#but I've been also reading a lovecraft book after coming across it in my local library

[stars-are-shining-bright]

They should find a way to listen to all the mechanisms albums at once

[sardonicnihilism]

A Biography of the Woman Who Never Was

Part 3 The Young Adult

Chapter 1

Shannon sat across from the counselor and looked at her blankly. She was smartly dressed in an outfit that was too professional to be casual and too casual to be professional. Her hair was long and black, with streaks of silver, tied into a smart bun. Her glasses hung around her neck. She had small, gold plated, earrings but no other jewelry except her wedding ring. She wore just enough makeup to be noticeable but not so much it made her look cheap or gaudy. She was basically white bread made flesh.

"Hello Shannon," she said in the dry, emotionless tone you would have suspected, "what do you want to talk about? "

"Aren't you supposed to ask me about my childhood?" Shannon asked back sarcastically. "That is how this whole thing works right?"

"It can." The counselor's tone never changed, nor did her blank expression. "I have been filled in with a lot of your information from your mother. Your going on sixteen, smart student, good grades, attends church regularly, had issues with the law, you cut yourself, sexually assaulted as a small child, "

"OK, fine. Enough," Shannon cut her off. She squirmed in her chair with embarrassment and shame.

"Alright. So, as I asked before, what do you want to talk about?" Stacy coolie replied.

"Sure, alright. I'll talk. I started cutting myself because I thought it was better than cutting up the local animals like I was. I've tortured and mutilated countless of cats, squirrels, birds, bugs. I enjoyed it. The more I could make them scream in pain, the better I felt. It just got too hard to hide the bodies," Shannon said as nonchalantly as she could. She studied Stacy's face but it remained unmoved.

"Do you derive a sexual gratification from this?"

Shannon began to squirm again. She hated talking about sex and dating with other people. Even though Stacy was a counselor, she was a counselor with the church and she couldn't risk it. She would eventually come to see the absurdity of freely talking about killing animals but balking at discussing sex.

"No!" She answered sharply. She squirmed a bit more before going on. "I hurt. All the time. I feel nothing but rage and sadness. Hurting, killing those animals allowed me to get some of that out of me. It was like a relief valve that I opened up.

"After a while, I couldn't do it anymore. I saw in what I was doing to them as bad as what the world was doing to me. Instead of feeling release, I felt worse. I felt like I needed to be punished.

*I started out punching myself on the thighs. The bruises were naturally hid. The cutting came later. I found when I hurt myself, some of the emotional pain went away. So that became my new release."

"And why do you think that is?"

"I guess because it makes the emotional stuff physical and physical wounds heal?"

For the first time Stacy showed a reaction, her eyebrow slightly lifted. "That's very insightful Shannon. Not many adults have that level of self awareness."

Shannon shrugged. "Knowing doesn't help me not do it. Just like being fat doesn't keep me from over eating. I'm just doomed I guess. Or maybe God is testing me. Maybe he's punishing me, or getting me ready for greatness. Refining me in fire."

"So you believe in God?"

This question really took Shannon aback. Stacy not only worked for the church but was the wife of the pastor's son. Maybe this was a test she thought.

"Yeah! Don't you?"

Stacy's face cracked just a little again. For the first time, she looked to be the uncomfortable one. It was only for a microsecond though.

"No. I don't. Not in the Abrahamic one at least."

Shannon was stunned. How could she say that? "Wait. You're, "

"The pastor's son's wife. I know. I love my husband but that doesn't mean I share his beliefs."

"So why work for a church?"

"I want to help people. While not as lucrative as a private practice, it's far more affordable to my clients. That's why."

"Oh," was all Shannon could say. She felt as though the veil of reality itself had been torn asunder and she was now seeing things no one was meant to see.

"Are ok with that?"

Shannon simply replied, "I don't think my approval matters."

"I'm not asking for approval, I just want to know if you'll be comfortable with me as a non Christian. "

"Yeah, sure, of course."

"Do you have any likes? - any hobbies?" Stacy had fully pivoted back with no effort.

"I like horror and monsters. Heavy metal as well. I want to be either a writer or a musician when I grow up." Shannon felt too off guard still to put up her walls again.

"Do you play an instrument?"

"Not yet. My mom said she might try to get my a drum set for my birthday. But money's tight. My," Shannon paused, looking both confused and frightened, "a relative, my mom's sister, Kathy, said she would help pay for it."

Stacy made a note of some kind before continuing with her questions. "That sounds good. What about writing? Do you have any stories written?"

"A few. I draw a lot too." Shannon bent down and took a notebook from her back pack and gave it to Stacy.

Inside was drawing after drawing of monsters and demons. Some were quite pedestrian looking, but some were truly misshapen abominations with impossible anatomies. One Drawing was of a creature with three legs, two dedicated heads, a face on its front or middle leg, one arm, and wings. This was labeled *Darkness*. Another looked like a cross between a dragon and a fish labeled *Dagon*.

"Oh, you read Lovecraft I see," Stacy said as she turned the notebook around so Shannon could see what picture she was looking at.

"Who?" Shannon asked confused.

"Dagon. You drew him. From the Cthuhlu Mythos by H.P. Lovecraft."

"I thought Cthuhlu was from a Metallica song?" Shannon responded, still confused.

"You said you were in to horror right?" Now Stacy was becoming confused.

"Sure. Stephen King, Dean R. Koontz, Freddy, Jason. I never heard of Lovecraft before. And he's not Day-gon but Dag-gon. Short A sound, not long." She said while pointing at the picture. "He sort of looked like a dragon but not quite, so when I named him, I just dropped the R from dragon to make Dagon." Shannon was quite pleased now with her linguistic whit.

"Amazing. Well, Lovecraft wrote about creatures who looked like your drawings here. Including a story called *Dagon*. You might want to check him out." Stacy then thought for a moment and asked, "Are you racist?"

Shannon was legitimately offended. "Fuck no! I hate racists!"

"In that case, you might not want to read his work after all."

For the rest of the session they talked about horror books and films. Shannon knew Stacy was just trying to win her trust, but it felt nice just to talk to anyone about things she liked. She was also now bound and determined to read Lovecraft.