intake

[vagueposting]

Summary:

 

It's Sidorova's first time seeing a psych for her issues.

 

Content warning:

This selection portrays the following sensitive themes:

gaslighting, unreality, abuse perpetuated by a medical professional, mentions of parental neglect.

Reader, please exercise caution.

Good afternoon, Miss Sidorova.

Hi.

You were recommended to me in light of your poor performance and emotional issues in university.

I know as much.

You seem quite calm.

Yeah. Can't be any worse than that meltdown I had during figure drawing.

At least you're quite composed... (This'll make my job easier.) Now, tell me, Miss Sidorova, is there anything that has been weighing on your mind for a while?

I guess the deadlines have been causing me a lot of stress.

Your hands are tensing up.

Sorry. Promise not to call me crazy for anything I'm about to say? Actually, I don't want you telling my parents about this.

Whatever you share in this room stays here, unless your life is in direct danger.

Okay. I'm used to that sort of thing.

"Used to?" How so.

Some things just have to stay where they are.

...With that said, "whatever you share in this room stays here" applies to the fact that you can tell me things that you've been keeping to yourself. Considering these reports... you might've been, or still might be, dealing with something heavy. I'm here to help you. I want to help you.

So I can tell you anything, even if it breaks the law?

Yes, and, tell you what—I can't report you unless you are doing something that endangers yourself, or your peers. So you could tell me about any incidences of shoplifting you could've committed as a child, and I won't tip the police.

I'm not a shoplifter.

That's besides the point. Now, tell me, what has been bothering you as of late?



Miss Sidorova?

Childhood nostalgia.

What do you mean by that?

Can I have a sheet of paper? E-even if it's just leftover printer paper—and something to write on it with.

Here it is.

Thank you.

That map looks familiar.

Shut up, doc. I'm trying to concentrate here.
...So, when I was a kid, I had a few friends. We weren't really... close. We weren't like the kids in those children's adventure books, is what I wanted to say. We actually fought a lot. But we'd go on adventures. Adventures to three lands.
This area is "Wasteland." This mountainous region is "Veldt." And this archipelago is "Dalamarya."
Wasteland was torn apart by an earthquake. They all have these matter-of-fact names, because concepts would just... not work right there. I remember... the city of Oblivion. Nothing could leave that place unless a transaction had taken place.
Veldt was like, if those Amorsolo paintings—or like, all those descriptions of the Garden of Eden, right—? Imagine if they were real places, places you could actually go to. It was really beautiful... but dangerous. I still remember the route of the Wild Hunt. I remember being pursued on foot while madmen on horseback galloped through the trees and fields.
—Dalamarya. We sailed aboard a ship. The waters were beautiful. Teeming with life. But I remember: "This sea is cursed. Stay any longer and—

A child's imagination certainly is vivid. How often do you reminisce on these adventures?

I don't reminisce, doctor. I'm being haunted by these adventures.
All my friends blocked my phone number and stopped seeing me.
I keep saying "Hey, do you remember when—something, something."
I wouldn't get any sort of agreement.
Most times, I'd be looked at as if I said something stupid or weird.
"That never happened" or similar.
...And sometimes, my friends would act like we've never met.






Miss Sidorova, are you sure you actually met those friends you mentioned?

What do you mean?

When the university referred you to my clinic, they ran a background check on you. This included interviewing your mother. She said you were a lonely girl growing up.

I wasn't lonely.

We'll get there when we get there. How old were you when these "adventures" happened?

I was ten.
I kept having adventures until I was... sixteen, I think.
Eventually, I stopped seeing my friends everyday.
—Wait.
You don't believe me, do you?

I can't confirm or deny my views.

Just be straightforward with me.
Next—next thing I know, you're going to write some kind of case study about me.
And all your psych friends will laugh. "Oh, that girl is in college but she still believes in made-up things."
Those adventures really happened, doctor. They really—
You said anything I share in this room stays here, yes?
And you said you wouldn't call me crazy.
At least say it upfront if you believe me or not.









Miss Sidorova, I was informed your mother was often busy with work. Was she emotionally distant?

...Yes.