Supernormal Read Free

remarked, she was obsessing over the paint because she didn’t want to deal with being in another goddamn doctor’s office and the days running past like water in a sieve.
    She hated this.  Hated doctors, hated having to sit here while another one peered at her and tried to pull her apart.  That’s all a shrink was, just another doctor.  There to wrench open her head and make nice, neat little notes to put in her file.  Ashley wondered if the doc even knew what that file meant, down the line.  If she even cared, or if it was just another job to her.  Good one, too, cause when you were this messed up, the paychecks kept rolling in.  But to Ashley, that file was her life —it was the difference between being able to sit here and chat and then go back to Brody’s on her own, and being strapped to a gurney with needles in her arm.
    It would have to be poison.  Have to be.  Bullets hadn’t worked last time.
    Ashley heard Brody’s voice in her head, telling her to play fair .  Okay, Dr. MacNamara probably did know some.  Brody would’ve told her—not all, but enough.  Brody was fond of the “need to know” line, but he did actually mean it; he told you what you needed to know.  And the doc—Ashley swallowed hard—she didn’t seem completely heartless.
    “Ashley.”
    Dr. MacNamara’s mild voice brought her back, enough for Ashley to realize she was gripping the arm of the couch a little too hard.  The wood had started to splinter.  She forced her fingers to let go, relax.  She got them to let go.  “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be sorry.  Tell me what’s bothering you.”
    “Nothing.”
    “Liar.”
    Ashley looked up sharply.  The doctor met her stare straight on, but her face was impassive, like one of those freaky Japanese people-robots.
    “Brody's being a jackass,” Ashley stabbed at her, biting off each word.  “I get to be pissed off if Brody’s being a jackass.”
    “You get to be angry about a lot of things.  What is it this time?”
    Ashley gripped her hands together so tightly her knuckles ached.  Did they have to play these games ?  She was hanging on by a thread and the doc wanted to play Twenty Questions.  The doc knew why Brody’s a jackass, he would’ve told her why during their weekly Ashley’s-still-a-psycho phone call.  Ashley wasn’t that stupid.  Why did the doc need her to say everything out loud?
    Dr. MacNamara cocked an eyebrow and repeated, “What is it this time?”  She held her pen at the ready.  Ashley wanted to jam it— She cut that thought right off.  Shaking a little that she’d had it.  Shaken enough that she told the truth.
    “Ian offered me a job.  At the store.  Said I could come in, work off some of my tab.  Earn something.  Brody said no.”
    “Why do you think he said no?” the doc asked, making another note. 
    The scratch of pen on paper raked across Ashley's brain, and she hissed, “‘Cause he’s a jackass.”
    “Do you think he might have another reason?”  When Ashley didn’t answer, the doctor set her pen down and did that laser thing with her eyes.  “What would you do if a customer came in angry?  Yelling, confrontational?  They’ve been known to do that.”
    They both knew what she would do.  The answer hung in the air, waiting for someone to say it.  Please don’t make me say it.
    Ashley stared down at her hands and concentrated on the aches.  It hurt, coming to these sessions.  Physically hurt.  It was like all of her joints jammed up ‘til she felt like piano wire, wound way too tight and out of tune.
    She hated this.  Hating having them point it out, hating feeling stupid.  She was stupid, thinking she could get a job like a normal person.  Thinking she could have anything normal.  But, god , she’d wanted the money.  Wanted to pay her way, at least some.  All expenses paid came with a price.
    “There could be another way,” the doc said.  “Brody is concerned about how you will react to