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...atter  I knew she was determined to get inside my head.  And that is exactly what she did. She unlocked the front door, and went inside. Not without putting me into a drug induced fog.  When the session was over and I came out of my drug induced , auto pilot state. I grinned and asked her if she found anything of value in there. Did she enjoy exploring behind the door, was there cobwebs littering the space.  Had she  had found  anything worth booking yet another hour long appointment for the following week.  Her skin usually bright with a healthy shine, turned into the color of a piece of old crusty grey molded bread.  Small beads of sweat broke out out across the top of forehead.  She knew, she knew it all. I fought hard to keep a quirky grin from taking form on my face.  I never agreed to these sessions in the first place I told myself. It was the courts that insisted I go through with this.

Inside the mind of a mad man

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