This is actually the first draft of something I hope to make much better, and I hope you'll let me know what you think of it. Not my normal genre, or normal style, but something that kept rolling around in my head until I put it down on paper. I hope you enjoy it.
Tell Me Your Dreams
"Miss Bishop is here to see you."
Mark Centers frowned, checking the calendar on his desk. Crystal wasn't scheduled today. In fact, if he had his way Crystal would never be scheduled to see him again. One of those patients every psychiatrist hated. Nothing wrong with her that a good old fashioned spanking wouldn't have cured years ago. Too pretty, too rich and definitely too spoiled.
"Send her in Maralee."
Crystal smiled as she pushed her way past the receptionist, closing the door in her face. "Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Centers. Daddy will be so pleased with you, and I'll make sure there's a little something extra on your next check."
Mark watched as she took her seat on the sofa, hiking her skirt to show off a brief outline of pink lace. At least she was wearing underwear this time.
"We've talked about this before, Crystal. You can't just come in any time you want. You need to make an appointment."
Crystal Bishop put on her best poor little rich girl pout. The one that always got her what she wanted. "I want to tell you my dreams."
"We've also talked about that before, Crystal. I don't believe that telling me your dreams would be in your best interest. There are other areas you need to work on. Areas you keep avoiding."
Crystal wound a strand of long blonde hair around her finger. "You listened to Jennifer Dick's dreams and I know her father isn't paying you what my father is paying."
Mark sighed, closed the file and stood up. "It's not about the money, Crystal. Jennifer's dreams were different than yours, something that was beneficial to her therapy."
Crossing to the sofa he handed her a business card. "I've arranged for you to see a very good friend of mine. I think you'll be much happier there. She'll listen to your dreams if that's what you want."
Crystal took the card, stared at it for a moment and tossed it on the floor. "You're dumping me? Nobody dumps me, Dr. Centers. Nobody."
Mark watched the gentle flush spreading up her face. "I'm sorry, Crystal. I just don't think I'm the right therapist for you. Dr. Barnes is a lovely person, and she specializes in helping children understand their nightmares. You'll like her."
Crystal stood, face totally red now, eyes glittering in a way that bordered on insanity. Mark took a step backwards as she ripped open her blouse and placed both hands under perfectly formed breasts, pushing them towards him. "Children's nightmares, Dr. Centers. Do these look like they belong to a child? Do they?"
Mark couldn't help the smile that played around his lips, further infuriating her. "Looks can be deceiving, Crystal. You may look like a woman, but it's apparent from your actions you're very much a child." Turning his back on her he walked back to his desk. "Put your clothes on and get out. You can see Dr. Barnes, or you can find someone else, but we're finished."
"I'll destroy you, you bastard. I'll tell Daddy you raped me and we'll find others that will say the same thing. You'll spend the rest of your life in jail."
Mark turned to face her, his own eyes darkening, jaw setting as his fingers clenched into fists. "You'd do that just because I won't listen to your dreams?"
Crystal smiled at him, slowing buttoning her blouse. "I told you. I want you to listen to my dreams."
Reaching into his desk Mark pulled out a business card. He'd tried. God knew he'd tried. Handing the card to Crystal he barked out at her. "Read it. And if you still want me to listen to your dreams, then I will."
Crystal glanced at the card before sticking it inside her purse. "Now, why don't you get comfortable. I have several dreams that are truly just a little disturbing to me."
Mark took his seat behind the desk reaching for a notepad. "One dream, Crystal. Just one. And be as detailed as you can."
Crystal eyed him across the room before stretching out on the sofa in a provocative pose. "Should I lie down for this?"
Mark shrugged. "It's your dream. Tell it the way you want it."
Crystal pouted for a moment. He was angry with her. And he really wasn't as cute as she'd first thought. Maybe she would tell Daddy he touched her. Not raped, because she really didn't want to go through all those stupid tests, but he could lose his license for touching her.
Stretching she turned to face him. "Tomorrow's my birthday, so I'll tell you about that one. It's a horrible, horrible dream."
Mark nodded to her, jotting down a few preliminary notes.
"I always go home for my birthday. Especially this year, as I just know Daddy has bought me that little red Porsche I've been wanting so much. It's a long drive, and I'm tired and thirsty when I get there. And suddenly I see it. Parked in the driveway with this huge yellow ribbon tied around it. I'm horrified. Simply horrified."
Mark glanced at her, raising and eyebrow. "You don't like the ribbon?"
Crystal gave him a withering look. "The ribbon was fine, but Annette Jenkins got the same car for her birthday last month. I mean, she's had it for a month. Daddy couldn't possibly expect me to drive a car that Annette had been driving for a month. It's like showing up at a party with the same dress. I would simply die of embarrassment."
Mark sighed heavily. He could feel the fires closing in. He knew that in reality that was the end of the dream. To Crystal that would be the nightmare of all nightmares. But she wasn't going to leave it there.
"So I went in the house and Daddy was there, and mommy was there, and I told him, I said Daddy I told you I wanted the red Porsche. You'll just have to take that thing back.
Well, Daddy got all red in the face and starting spouting off something about my being ungrateful. Fortunately mommy totally understood and she told Daddy that I couldn't possibly drive the same car as Annette Jenkins. They would be the laughing stock of the country club if he allowed that to happen."
Mark wrote a couple of notes waiting for her to continue. The fires burned hotter.
"And then it got really ugly. Daddy and mommy were screaming at each other. But I wasn't worried because mommy always won. I knew I was getting the red Porsche before the day was out."
Mark looked at her, jaw set in rigged lines of displeasure as he closed the notepad. The fires had completely consumed him now. He no longer felt any compassion for her. His face twisted in an ugly smile. "So, I suppose you got your Porsche and everyone lived happily ever after."
Crystal felt the heat flooding her face. She'd wipe that smile off his face, and then she'd report the bastard.
"No, that's where the nightmare really began."
Mark relaxed his face muscles, opened the notebook and gave her a genuine smile. "So tell me your dream."
Crystal sat up, hands folded in her lap. "Daddy disappeared into the kitchen and mommy followed him. I was so upset that I called Annette and told her what Daddy had done. She was appalled, just as I knew she would be."
Her eyes widened, lower lip trembled slightly. "Daddy came out of the kitchen and he was wearing the cook's apron and it was covered in blood. He was carrying this thing and blood was dripping from it."
Mark leaned forward, watching her face. She was totally caught up in the lies now. She'd even managed a single tear. "What kind of thing?"
"You know, one of those meat hacker things. Huge and sharp."
"A meat cleaver?"
Crystal nodded. "And I was so shocked because I'd never seen Daddy like that before. And he said, aren't you going to join me for supper, poopsie?
That's what Daddy always called me when he was upset with me. I pointed at the apron and said, you're disgusting. And mommy is going to be really mad at you for messing up the floor."
Crystal stopped for a moment, savoring the rapt attention she saw in his eyes. "I had my hand out like this, just pointing at the bloody apron and he cut it off. I screamed and screamed and blood was spurting from my wrist. He raised the cleaver again and I ran for the kitchen. I knew if I could find mommy she'd save me."
Mark's voice was low, encouraging. "And was your mother in the kitchen?"
Crystal swallowed hard, eyes misting over. "She was everywhere. Daddy had hacked her up and, and..."
"Details, Crystal. Remember, I need details."
Crystal sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "We have this big shiny thing in the center and mommy's body was lying there only it had no head, no feet and no hands. There was this pot on the stove and when I got close I saw mommy's head there. He was boiling it. I screamed and tried to run, but Daddy was in the doorway with a shotgun. He looks at me and says, happy birthday, poopsie. And then he shoots me."
Mark finished recording his notes, watching as she shed a few more fake tears. "That really was a horrible dream, Crystal. And right before you birthday."
Crystal stood up, smiled and smoothed her skirt. "See, and I feel much better now. I'll stop by tomorrow and show you my new Porsche. If you're nice to me I'll even take you for a ride."
Mark watched her leave, his eyes dark pinpoints as the fires totally consumed him. He laughed softly, closing the notebook and locking his office.
# # #
The couple stood in the shadows as the gruesome scene played out before them. Blood splattered the marble floor as screams of pain and terror filled the room. They followed her to the kitchen, a scene of total carnage. More screams rang out until finally a single blast and blessed silence.
"You did everything you could, Mark. You even gave her the card. The choice was hers." Jenna Barnes picked up the discarded purse retrieving the business card and handing it to him.
A second blast filled the night.
Jenna placed her arm around him. "I think our work is done here. Buy me a drink?"
Mark smiled at her as the flames subsided. He'd never wanted this, but he had given her the card. The sound of sirens filled the night. "One drink. I'm working tomorrow. I have this little girl who has a dream about being adopted by a wonderful family."