RP log: Harley and Jeremy
Therapy time.
Sometimes Jeremy didn’t mind it. Others it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done. Especially now that he wasn’t allowed in Dr. Quinzel’s office, but forced to meet with her in a stark white observation room with their sessions getting tape-recorded. But considering all the people he had gunning for him, he was truly was giving it his all.
Problem was, the doctor herself seemed a little... off, lately. It was understandable, given the stress she must be under, but it worried him, a little. Jeremy wondered if she had any time off allotted to her, because it seemed like she needed it.
Regardless, he was ready for her entrance, in his usual seat at one end of the table, waiting for her to show up and sit in the seat opposite him.
The door opened quickly and without a knock. Harley had almost bumped into the guard outside, and nearly dropped the tape recorder on her way in. She was still trying to juggle it with her clipboard as she made her way over to the table. She appeared much more distracted than anything else, finally letting the tape recorder fall with a loud metallic thunk as she took a seat. It didn't seem to phase her. She ignored the possibly damaged recorder and Jeremy for several moments, humming some disjointed little tune as she scribbled something down on paper.
Finally she addressed him without looking up from what she was writing. "How are you today, Jeremy?" Her voice matching her appearance in sounding distracted by someone or something. She used her free hand to push back some of her hair, worn down for the day. Her glasses were off before she had even entered the room as well, folded and hanging from a pocket on her jacket.
Jeremy jumped a little when she dropped the tape recorder, but he regained his composure and nodded. “I’m okay.” He took in her appearance; she really did look better with her hair down and without the glasses. She was a lot less... Little House on the Prairie school marm that way. “You look, uh, nice.”
Maybe she was dating someone? Didn’t girls go all moony-eyed when they found a boyfriend? Helena sure had seemed more giggly than usual when they had started going out.
She looked up at the compliment, her lips curling up. She was wearing a much brighter, redder shade of lipstick today. "Thank you!" Her voice got higher, almost a squeak. She then caught sight of the tape recorder between them. She eyed it for a moment before turning her attention back towards her notes, writing once again. "Don't worry. I'll tell 'em the guard ran into me or somethin' and we couldn't tape the session. Not like it really matters much."
Jeremy blinked, unsure of whether that was a good or a bad thing... but he had to admit he didn’t like being recorded.
“Um, okay.”
"So, tell me how you've been spending your time." Her voice got absent-sounding again, her pen moving despite him rather than because of him.
“Uh, it hasn’t been too exciting... I’ve been reading a lot. People stop by to visit. I think Helena’s coming again this week...” He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Usually she hung onto every word, rapt.
“Um, if you’re... busy, or something, we could do this later...” Never mind that it was her job and he was a high profile inmate. If the doctor had better things to do, Jeremy would just as soon let her do them.
She was nodding absently until her ears caught him saying they could do this some other time. She laughed, a little longer and louder than what was probably appropriate. "Yeah, sure... You know Jeremy, you're pretty funny. Don't let them change you." She looked up for a moment, but past him. When she returned her eyes to her paper, her brows creased and she flipped the page, scribbling something new down on the next one.
“I wasn’t... making a joke, Doctor...” Jeremy resisted the urge to look behind him at what she seemed to be looking at, because he knew there was nothing there.
"I dunno about that, Jeremy. Pretty much everything is a joke. One. Cruel. Joke." She seemed to be drawing some harsh lines on the pad, to accentuate each word. "I mean, would you be here otherwise? Would I be here? Would anyone?"
That was a dangerous attitude and Jeremy knew it. It was the line of thinking that made you do anything and damn the consequences because nothing really mattered. He’d lived that way and never wanted to go back, so hearing it from his therapist honestly scared him. He sat up suddenly, his eyes widening.
“Are... you okay? Did something happen?”
Talk about role reversals. But he liked Dr. Quinzel and owed her a lot, so it genuinely upset him to hear her say something like that.
"I've never been more okay in my life! No, I don't think I've ever been happier..." Her voice trailed off as she looked back up at him, smiling. Leaning over the table, she then brought up hand to poke him in the nose. "The question is, what's gonna happen to you!"
Jeremy wasn’t able to follow what she was saying, but was tense enough that when she touched him unexpectedly, he reacted dramatically. He pushed way from the table and stood up, backing instinctively against the wall, staring at her.
He was torn between asking her what she meant and demanding that she leave. He glanced quickly through the window in the door while licking his lips, but could not gain eye contact with a guard.
He looked back at her, at a loss. “What’s gonna happen to me?” he repeated, voice cracking and making him sound humiliatingly adolescent.
She watched him backing up against the wall with the first real interest she had since entering the room. She let out a little giggle at the look on his face. "That... I know what that's about." She seemed amused. "I know what that's about." She repeated in an almost sing-song little voice.
"Sit down, and I'll tell you what's going to happen to you." She didn't even try to hide the smirk on her face as his voice cracked.
“No.” Jeremy put as much defiance and bravado in his voice as he could. This wasn’t the doctor he knew; this was... something else.
He knew about being something else.
“Tell me now or I’m calling the guards.”
"Call the guards and I tell them you're having a psychotic break and have to recommend something severe." She watched him, her voice taking a mock calm. "I like you, Jeremy. I'd hate to have to do that, but you're on the entirely wrong side of the table to be making demands. Now, sit down. Show's almost over."
Jeremy’s heart pounded wildly as he realized she was right; he had no power here. Swallowing hard, he inched closer and sat back down, never once taking his eyes off her. Then he took a deep breath and waited.
"Good boy." She watched him sit down and then looked back down at her clipboard. Picking up her pen, she started writing again, as before. "You're very nervous Jeremy, I would see someone about that if I was you..." She mused for a moment. "I still think you'll get out of here, you know. Of course, I think I'll get out of here too. Just a lot sooner."
Jeremy flinched when she called him a good boy. He’d been called that often in the past, mostly while on his knees. He was a second away from hissing Fuck you, but the knowledge of the power she had over him kept him silent. He looked down instead, picking at the edge of the table with his finger, hiding from her under his hair.
She was cracked. Completely cracked. He struggled not to panic, trying to block out all the ways she could make his stay here a living hell with the authority she possessed.
And he had liked her. Really, really liked her. For a moment he nearly teared up; a crybaby little bitch as always. But he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. He sniffled instead. but his eyes stayed dry.
Finally, without looking up, he said, “Well, good. You sound like you need a vacation.” Or her own cell in this place.
She went back to largely ignoring him, only bothering to respond to the word 'vacation'. "Would you believe I've never taken a vacation since I started here? Not even a sick day!" She continued writing. "All work and no play. Do you know what it's like to sit and listen to other people's problems all day long? It's time someone listened to me. Someone has." She paused, looking thoughtfully over what she had scribbled down so far.
He’d had people talk to him like this before too. Like he was part of the decor and they just liked hearing themselves speak. There was a fine line you had to walk and decide whether you should speak (and reinforce their ego) or keep quiet (because you’re not being paid to talk). Choosing poorly could be disastrous.
“That sucks,” he said finally. “You should have more time to yourself.”
She looked up, grinning. "You're right! And I think I will from now on. I'm going to have a lot. more. fun. I always knew you were a smart boy, Jeremy. I'm sure you'll go back to having fun once you get out, too."
Jeremy swallowed hard. He wanted to say, It was never fun, but the truth was... it had been fun.
He still wanted to cry.
“You leaving soon, then?” he asked casually.
"Tryin' to get rid of me?" She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "I think we've gone as far as we can go... here. But maybe we'll get to play again, sometime." She started to gather up the tape recorder and her notes. "Take care of yourself, Jeremy. Comb your hair, eat your vegetables. And give all my love to Helena." She spoke rather cheerfully, standing up.
Jeremy kept quiet as she talked her crazy talk, and just nodded, just waited for it to be over. Sometimes that was the only thing you could do. He did not look up even when she stood.
Harley gave a small wave before heading out the door. She started to hum again as she was a bit more careful not to run into the guard on the other side, who came in right after she left.