Saphora: vol.1 Retention (The Athena Universe) Read Free

they had been talking about, she doubted that there could be so much from just the small conversations that took place. She had never seen what was in the files, and had never asked. But each time she met with Lupin, her curiosity of what could be inside grew.
    He placed the fat binder on the surface of his desk with a somewhat loud plop, before smiling up at her. She couldn’t help but narrow her eyes. It was things like that. The subtle references of mocking that made her hatred for him fester. It was like he was saying, “I have all this information – on you. And you’ll never get to see it.” But again, she set aside her feelings of distaste, and powered through for Fran.
    “How’re you doing?” he asked, looking up at her. She cleared her throat.
    “I’m alright, thank you. Yourself, doctor?”
    He laughed and proceeded to open the binder, flipping through the many sheets of paper, trying to find a specific area to stop at. She didn’t know what or where that was, but considering that they always started with the repeating of her dream and/or memory, she could only assume that it had something to do with that. He grumbled softly as he flipped through, before chuckling again.
    “You’ve been coming here for nearly three years, and you’re still so formal with me. Why’s that?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee and pushing his glasses back up onto his nose. She shrugged and answered simply.
    “Because you’re still in a forma l position,” he glanced up at her, setting his mug back down with raised eyebrows.
    “True … Why don’t we get started?” he said, having found the page he was looking for. She nodded, somewhat indifferently.
    “Have you been waking up out of breath still?” he asked. She nodded.
    “Yes. I woke up like that today.”
    “I see. And yesterday?”
    “No.”
    “The day before?”
    “No.”
    “The day before that?”
    “Yes.”
    “And before that?”
    “No.”
    “I see,” he said, scribbling away onto the page. Perhaps it was some sort of chart, taking note of her sleeping patterns. That was in fact what it was. But she couldn’t be certain. The binder was at an angle that prevented her from seeing it properly. She watched as he wrote, before he started talking again. “And have you been having any headaches when you wake up like that?”
    “No. Not usually.”
    “Mhm,” he hummed, writing again. “Well, they don’t seem to be worsening, just happening more often. You might start experiencing headaches with them if they keep happening so often,” he noted. She didn’t think that was the case, but she nodded anyway.
    “Have you been taking your medication?”
    “Yes.” Lie. She’d yet to take one pill in the three years.
    “Do you need a refill?”
    “No.”
    “Alright. Be sur e to let me know when you do,” she nodded. “Now then … Have you remembered anything, since the last time we’ve spoken?” he asked. She frowned, and shook her head. If she had, she would have been anxious to let him know, and hear his response, despite her opinion of him.
    “I see. Can you tell me the night you do remember? About the night you met Miss Mousescawits?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. She sighed. She had b een asked to repeat what she remembered in every visit, regardless of the doctor. She figured it was to see if the story would change at all. To see if she was lying. Or maybe to see if anything had been added, that she didn’t realize she remembered. Either way, it was a process that drained her. Because it didn’t matter what else she could remember about the night. It was before that night that she wanted to remember, if she was to remember anything. That night was unpleasant, aside from meeting Fran. And being made to constantly repeat it only worked on her nerves. If anything, she wanted desperately to forget that night.
    “I woke up in a kitchen … Everything had been destroyed, but a counter top. A marble counter top. This man walked