James (Teumessian Trilogy Book 2) Read Free Page B

you are fit to continue.” Ray said, looking around the room to each of the candidates. “John, if you please.” Ray ushered his hand for John to speak.
    “James Gold,” John said, looking at James. “You are up first.” John pointed to the door. James stood up and walked toward the door. “Third door to your left,” John said, sizing up James.
    “Thank you, sir.” James replied, making eye contact with John before leaving the room.
    James swiftly made his way down the hallway. He was not a fan of therapy. His uncle had made him talk to a therapist when he was little and he hadn't enjoyed the time. James figured it was his Uncle Finn’s way of trying to help him deal with losing his father, but it never really helped. When James opened the grey door and saw the therapist, he instantly smiled. It was a woman. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. James stepped into the room and extended his hand.
    “Hello, I’m James, I guess we get to spend some time together,” he said with a smile firmly placed on his face.
    The red haired woman adjusted her glasses and sat back in her chair, “Have a seat,” she instructed, clicking her pen.
    “Okay then,” James said, withdrawing his hand and taking the seat on the brown couch across from her.
    “James Gold, only son of General Ulysses Gold. Orphaned at the age of 4 and raised by your Uncle, Finnegan Gold.” She read, staring at the file in her hands. James just sat silently. Was that a question? He thought to himself. “Graduated first in your class from high school.” She took her glasses off as she looked up at James. He instantly noticed her eyes, the lightest shade of blue. “So, do you have anything else to add to that?” she questioned, placing her glasses on the wood table next to her.
    “I can bench two hundred and fifty pounds,” James said with a smile.
    The woman didn’t react, her face stone cold. James could see he was getting nowhere. “Okay, you’re the therapist. What do you want to know?” he said, sitting back in the couch.
    “You are a mystery, Mr. Gold. We know very little about you,” she said calmly, resting her hands on her lap. “How about we start with what you remember about your father?”
    “Oh, the deep stuff. You know I am not really okay with talking about my father with you when I don’t even know your name,” James replied, crossing his arms.
    The woman took a deep breath, “You can call me Ms. Fowler.”
    “Do you have a first name?” James said, with a wink.
    “Rachel. Can we continue?” Rachel replied.
    “Okay, Rachel. I was only four; well, I was actually close to five when my father died. I have very few memories of him.” James said as confidently as he could. He was lying, and he didn’t want her to know he remembered a lot more. Telling a therapist you remembered the day your father died and being taken to a woman who was apparently your mother, only to watch her kill a man and then herself was a one way trip to a long string of therapy sessions. James had never told a soul he remembered it all. His uncle was a kind man who James never wanted to upset with bringing any of it up. James had always wondered if she really was his mother or if it was all just a sick game put on by his father’s killer. “So, I am not sure what you want to know,” James continued.
    “Do you have any memories of your mother? Or who she was?” Rachel questioned.
    “No….none,” James replied, trying to keep his composure.
    “Okay then, we are done. You may go,” Rachel gestured her hand for James to leave.
    “Wait, what? All you want to know is if I remember anything about my life before I was like five years old?” James replied confused.
    “That is all. You may go.” Rachel replied firmly, pointing to the door as she reached over to pick up her glasses with her free hand.
    James was silent. He couldn’t understand why they wanted to know things like that. He quietly got up and left the room, looking back to