Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Microsoft Word

- Text Size +

Disclaimer: NBC/MTM owns the Pretender, I own the words
Author's Note: Special thanks to Schuyler



Into The Human Psyche
By Andrea





Mr. Madison looked up from the paperwork he was completing on a SB-140 when he heard a voice in the outer office.

"Mrs. Mazola?"

"I'm sorry, but she left," Jarod called back, through the closed door. Rising from the desk, he opened the oak door.

A young girl, maybe fourteen, was standing in the outer room. "What do you mean by left?" She asked, with narrowed eyes.

"She quit a few days ago; I'm her temporary replacement," Jarod explained.

"What?" She cried with a look of disbelief on her features. "I can't believe this!"

"Can't believe what?" Jarod questioned, curious.

The girl backed away, shaking her head. "You wouldn't understand. I'm late for class." She turned, as if to leave, but Jarod blocked her way.

"Try me."

She searched Jarod's face, and what she saw must have calmed her, for she started to talk. "I...I...Mrs. Mazola said she wouldn't leave like the others."

"The others?"

"At least once a year this school has a new counselor; no one can stand being here for a month, let alone a year. Usually, they have to stay, because of their contract, but after that they leave. Mrs. Mazola told me she wasn't like the others, that she would stay...I trusted her. I told her stuff I'd never told anyone." The girl spilled out quickly, not pausing once during her explanation.

Jarod nodded. He started to say, 'I see,' but she cut in.

"No, I don't think you do," She interjected coldly. "Now, I have to get back to class."

She moved once again to the door, but Jarod called after her, "What's your name?"

Her reply was so soft that he barely heard it. "Leeanna." Then she was gone, leaving a very puzzled Jarod staring after her.

-~-~-~-~-

Jarod leaned back in his black leather chair, thinking about what had just happened.

A young girl named Leeanna had burst into his office, looking for the previous guidance counselor, Mrs. Mazola. Upon hearing that she was gone, and wouldn't be back, Leeanna had quickly explained to Jarod about the school's lack of continuity in counselors, and how she had trusted Mazola. But the woman had left, shattering that trust.

Kicking his feet up on the desk, Jarod slid further down in the chair. He had just started this new pretend, not five days ago as a time of relaxation.

The number of students was small at the rural school; there were less than one hundred students in the eighth grade class.

Jarod, or Mr. Madison, had no real reason for being at the school. He had just wanted some time off from his usual stressing pretends to rest, and enjoy his freedom some more. One of his favorite ways to do both was to be around children.

And somehow, he had found something to become involved in. Removing his feet from the wood-imitation desk, Jarod pulled his keyboard in front of him. Logging into the school records he looked up the girl.

Her file was easy to find; she was the only person with such a name in the district. Jarod scanned the information quickly, committing it to memory.

She was an honors student, an active member of the Junior National Honor Society, helper in the office and library, an assistant to the computers teacher and to the technology coordinator for the district, a participant in English Festival and POP competition, Prep Bowl, and a member of the high school chess club, active in the Gifted & Talented Program. For a fourteen-year-old she had a pretty accomplished life.

But something was wrong...the only question was what.

-~-~-~-~-

Jarod studied the various information spread in front of him. Schedules, files, teacher notes. All of it told a new story, one different from the last. And there were the files from Mazola. Sloppily complied, of their different talks, they painted another side of Leeanna.

Yesterday he had printed a copy of her schedule, and asked each of her teachers what they thought. Jarod had been amazed at her schedule, with three study halls out of eight periods. But, apparently, she was above most of the classes, including the outdated computer classes the school taught.

Instead of classes, she spent her day helping out at various places, office, library, and computer lab. Jarod was surprised that the district allowed such a thing. But, in a way, he did understand. The school district was poorly funded, and over the years had cut back on many of the gifted programs.

Shaking his head, Jarod continued to look at the papers. Her algebra teacher had said that she picked up some concepts within minutes, others took days, or even weeks. The reading/English teacher had had nothing but good things to say; she didn't even make the girl work. Instead, she used her as a personal assistant. The history professor had said she was knowledgeable about tragic events in history, such as the Holocaust. Every other instructor had said the same thing: Leeanna was a very bright and intelligent young girl. Except for the biology teacher; Jarod had been befuddled over her. The only things out of her mouth were negative comments.

The computers educator had lavished praise, saying that the girl was an almost genius in the field. 'Give her any program, and within two minutes she'll know exactly how it works, and how to best use it.'

Mazola's notes had been confusing, at best. Jarod could make almost no sense of the hastily scribbled words, even with his experience as a pharmacist at reading doctor's writing. Hers was worse, if such a thing were possible. Jarod could only make out bits and phrases, such as 'tragedy,' 'difficulty coping,' 'death,' and one word that looked like 'suicide.'

That last word scared him the most...

-~-~-~-~-~-
FLASHBACK
-~-~-~-~-~-

Loud, clanging alarm bells woke Jarod from a peaceful sleep; he sat up in bed with his heart pounding. He could hear footsteps, both running and walking, going up and down the hall; voices loud and quiet, screaming and speaking in normal tones.

He almost reached for his dark gray robe, but decided to stay in his bed. Using the headboard to support his back, he leaned his weight against it and waited.

Eventually, he fell asleep, sitting up, still waiting for Sydney. When he woke up, Sydney was seated in the leather armchair, dozing himself. "Sydney," the young Jarod spoke quietly, "What happened last night?"

The sound of his prodigy's voice startled Sydney out of his light catnap, and he considered the best way to answer Jarod's query. "Well, Jarod, last night one of Raines' *special* Projects committed suicide. His name was Mobby."

Jarod remembered the name; Kyle had mentioned it once before he had left. "Suicide?" He repeated.

-~-~-~-~-~-
BACK TO THE FUTURE
-~-~-~-~-~-

Jarod shivered as he relived the memory, and he vowed to do something about Leeanna, and soon.

-~-~-~-~-~-

"Here, I promise you'll like this." Jack offered a joint to his girlfriend.

"I don't want it."

Staggering around drunkenly, Jack waved his hands in the air wildly. "Damnit, baby, you said you'd try one. That's why I brought you here, and you've only been drinking. Try it." He pushed the marijuana in her face.

She backed against the wall. "I said I didn't want it. Leave me alone, Jack!" As he moved to her, maybe thinking to corner her, she grabbed her backpack and ran out of the room, leaving Jack and its peeling yellow walls behind.

-~-~-~-~-~-

She walked into his office cautiously, ready to bolt at any second. "You can close the door," Jarod called from his spot behind the desk. She followed his request, slowing swinging the door shut as if she were trapping herself in a dungeon.

Taking her time, she measured out the ten steps to Jarod's inner office, using tiny babysteps. Finally, she stood inside the sparsely decorated room.

Jarod motioned to one of the chairs by his desk. "Please, take a seat."

Carefully Leeanna seated herself on one of the chairs, perching on the very edge. "Why did you call me here?" She asked bluntly.

"We'll get to that in time." Jarod paused, thinking of the best way to continue the conversation. "I've been looking at your schedule, and I'm concerned with what I see. Out of nine periods, one being lunch, you take only five classes. And those can't really be considered as classes, can they?"

"Are you saying that something's wrong?"

"No, no." He shook his head. "I've talked to your teachers, for the most part they have nothing but praise for you. How do you manage everything? I mean, your grades have never dropped to a B, and you do so much. Help out not only in the office, but the library as well. Assistant to Ryan Waters, the tech guy; and you even teach a few computer classes. Not to mention all the other academic activities you are active in. Frankly, I'm amazed." Jarod finished his little speech.

"That's very nice, Mr. Madison. However, I'm sure that you didn't call me up here, and interrupt my class just to tell me that you're amazed at the work I do." Leeanna said perceptively.

"You're right, I didn't call you up here just to commend you," Jarod admitted. "I was looking through some notes that your past guidance counselor left, and I was concerned by what I read."

"Those files are confidential!" Leeanna burst out, jumping up.

"Calm down, please. I couldn't read much of them, I could make out phrases and words, however. Has there been a death in your family recently?"

She backed up. "I don't want to talk about this."

But Jarod persisted anyway. "There was a single word, also. Do you know what it is?"

She shouted, "How the hell would I know that?"

Jarod ignored the breach of conduct, he only continued. "Have you been thinking about ending your life?" He asked quietly, concern covering his features.

"It's none of your business what I plan on doing." She stood, her face showing her anger. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Madison, I need to return to class."

Leeanna walked to the door, but Jarod stood in her way as he had two days ago. "At least take this card," he pleaded, "And call me if you need to talk." Jarod handed her a white business card with his name, cellular number, and address written in black ink.

She took the card, and replied quietly, "Thank you. But I don't think I'll need your help, Jarod," She said after a glance at the card. Moving to the doorway that was no longer blocked by Jarod's tall frame she disappeared from view.

-~-~-~-~-

Jack, and his girlfriend Leeanna, sat in a shabby living room with three of their friends, Sam, Nikki, and Jeremy. Sam and Jeremy each held a can of beer and a joint; Nikki was happy with some coke and rum. Leeanna alone of the four had no drugs or booze; she was watching her twenty-year-old boy Jack snort Pixie Stiks between swigs of wine. Of course, he'd tried to push something on her, but she had refused as usual.

"You know, baby, there isn't anything wrong with a try."

"I don't want any, damnit."

Sam got up from his seat on the green-and-blue sofa and walked up to Leeanna. "You know you'll like it once you try." He held his hand out.

She pushed his face-up palm away. "How many times do I have to tell you guys that I don't want any of this crap?"

"Well, if you don't want it, why are you here?"

She mumbled, "I don't know." Seconds later she added, "That's it! I'm outta here." Rising from her sprawled position next to Jack, she hefted her pack to her shoulders. "And I won't be back."

Jack pulled himself to his feet. "What do you mean, baby?" He grunted.

"What I mean, Jack, is that I'm not coming back. I'm through with you and your damn friends who keep trying to get me to do drugs." Leeanna walked to the door.

But Jack didn't like her answer; he was a possessive sort of guy. "Wait a damn minute. You don't just walk out on me. I tell you when you can leave." He stepped up to her and grabbed her arm. "And you, baby, aren't leaving."

She tried to twist her elbow out of grip but she couldn't. He was too strong. "Please let me go," She begged, her heart pounding.

Jack's friends sniggered; they knew what was going to happen. They'd seen it many times before.

"Sure, in a minute, baby." In reality, Jack was happy to get rid of the kid. At first, she'd been amusing, a fresh little kid. But she hadn't been like most of her friends, the ones who'd do anything to be here, with the popular high school dropout and his group of companions. No, she didn't want drugs, or smokes. Or sex. Occasionally, she'd drink, but only wine coolers.

After a while, though, she'd become simply annoying. So he'd let her go, but with a few 'reminders' of their time together.

Leeanna never saw him draw his arm back, but she felt the full force of his fist in her face. He lifted her chin with one hand, drawing her closer to his brawny body. Jack locked his lips on hers, enjoying her futile attempts to pull back. Finally, he pushed her out the door.

-~-~-~-~-

She ran up the middle of the asphalt road, not bothering to watch for cars. Eventually running out of breath, she paused by the side of the road, breathing harshly and thinking what she should do next.

"Is there something I can do?"

The voice startled her; a black Jeep had pulled up next to her without her noticing. Mr. Madison was seated inside.

Leeanna looked at him, and he stared at her face; it was apparent that she'd been hit recently. But there was no evidence of tears on her cheeks, no red eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Do you need a ride, or do you need to talk, maybe?" Jarod offered, hoping that the girl would except.

"Sure, why not." She dropped her pack in the back, and leapt over the door and landed on the passenger seat.

Jarod thrust the key back into the ignition, and started the Jeep. "Which one?"

"Both."

-~-~-~-~-

Unlocking the front entrance, Jarod led the way into the light green den, and he sat in the blue armchair in the far-left corner. Leeanna took a seat on the black leather couch against the right wall. "If this is too awkward," She began, "I could leave."

Jarod shook his head. "It isn't 'too awkward.' I'm just happy I found you before you got into an accident racing up the road like that without looking. And I did offer."

"Thank you."

"First, before we say anything, I'd like to tell you a couple things first." Jarod said.

Leeanna responded, "Shoot."

"One, I didn't read your file just to snoop on you; I was concerned by the way you'd burst into the office. You looked like you needed to talk, and you were disappointed when Mrs. Mazola wasn't there. Second, when I did read your file, a few things stood out. I called you to my office to ask you if you were considering ending your life. Angry at my accusation, you left." Jarod spoke quietly, while looking at the young teenager sitting across from him.

She seemed different from the girl he had seen at the school, in more than one way. Instead of the skirts and tanks, she wore a tight, belly-baring tee that showed a dolphin tattoo ringed around her belly button, and a pair of baggy jncos.

Swallowing hard, she replied, "I was angry. I have every right to be, too. All you shrinks think that you're so helpful, always trying to get me to talk about the past."

"The best thing to do is forget it, put it past you. We're always so unprepared for tragedy, for heartache. So unready that when it happens we're shocked, and unbelieving. You want to turn time back, to before the event happened. It's just better to forget, to live and let live. That's my philosophy," She added.

Jarod was surprised at such cynical words from such a young person. "What happened?" He questioned, genuinely curious.

Leeanna laughed. "Nothing important. Like that witch said, I just have 'trouble coping.'"

"When you say it like that it must not be true," Jarod said

"You're right: It isn't true. But see, you're like all those other damn shrinks, trying to get me to talk. But what if I don't want to talk?"

"That's perfectly acceptable. However, do you know what happens when you hold back all those feelings that you've been bottling away?" He asked, thinking that she might know the answer.

"Yes, I do." The teenager replied matter-of-factly. "You know...why don't you shrinks ever take your advice to 'Talk about it, it'll make you feel better'?" Leeanna said, changing the subject.

The question stuck in Jarod's mind, and he wondered why that was true. He *knew* it was, psychiatrists always told you to talk about it, to help resolve the feelings. But they never really practiced their own words. "I don't know," He said slowly.

She suggested, "Well, maybe if you took your advice, I'd feel more comfortable."

Jarod nodded. "If you think it will help, I will. And maybe we shrinks are right..." He seated himself more comfortably, resting his feet on the blue ottoman, and started. "When I was a child, only four years old, I was kidnapped from my parents. A Corporation called the Centre wanted to use me, to exploit me for their research. They took me because of the ability I had, to Pretend. Basically, that means I could become anyone, and the Centre used that aptitude to make themselves money."

"To say the least, I didn't have a normal childhood. Instead, I spent my youth doing Simulations for the Centre. I would be given information, and locked in the Lab until I completed the work. Many of the Simulations were brutal, horrifying." He said, shivers running down his spine as he recalled a particularly violent exercise.

Clearing his throat Jarod continued, "Of course, I didn't have many friends. In fact, I did not have any friends until I was twelve. During a Sim on sexuality I met the Chairman's daughter, Miss Parker. She was a year younger than I was. Our hands touched through the glass, and I said, hesitantly, that she was a girl. Before that time, I had encountered only one woman, her mother. Our friendship grew after that moment, that electrifying touch."

"And for a time, I was happy."

"What happened after that?" Leeanna asked, caught up in his story.

"Well, Mr. Parker decided we were too close, so he sent Parker off to boarding school. He also thought she was too much like her mother; who had committed suicide. She came back a completely different person. She became just like her father." He said sadly.

Her eyes widened; perhaps she knew of that. The change from a happy, innocent person to one as cruel and cold as the winter blizzards. "Why did you stay? Why didn't you try to escape?"

The answer to that was simple enough. "I had always been told, to get me to cooperate, that the Simulations I did were used for good, to help people. What a fool I was to believe that," Jarod voiced bitterly. "One day, another friend of mine, Angelo, told me the truth. I learned that the work I did was usually sold to, or contracted by foreign countries, terrorists, etc. Unknowingly, I sent hundreds, maybe thousands of people to their death just because I was a genius," He said angrily.

"So I broke out. Now, I try to somehow makeup for all the tragedy I caused, by helping the weak and abused, those who cannot help themselves."

Taking a minute to fully digest his story, Leeanna said, "So that's why you're here, to help someone."

"You do catch on quick," Jarod remarked. "Actually, this time I'm not. Being the temp guidance counselor at your school is a sort of break for me; I always enjoy being around children."

She grinned. "I don't think you'll get to much R/R around this school, Mr. Madison. You haven't seen half of what goes on there. Wait a minute," she paused, thinking of something. "If you were so valuable to the Centre, they wouldn't have let you go so easily, right?"

Jarod told her, "Please, call me Jarod. And yes, the Centre isn't letting me have my freedom without a fight. Remember Miss Parker?"

She nodded. "You're childhood friend."

"Yes. For the last four years, since I escaped, she's been on my trail, trying to recapture me, to take me back. I won't go back without a fight," Jarod vowed, not bothering to tell her about the time he had gone back, to save Miss Parker.

"You shouldn't have to go back at all." Swallowing hard, Leeanna continued, "Fair's fair. Since you told about your life, I'll tell you about mine. Not that it's anything impressive. Did it help you to get it out?" She asked.

Smiling, Jarod answered, "It did, in a way. Cleared off my chest a bit."

"Well, I'll try." Leaning into the leather, she started, "I pretty much grew up in the country, but I wasn't born here. Most of my family lives in the city, about forty minutes from here in a Blazer. My father bought our place before I was born; he'd lived in a semi-rural area as a child. We moved here when I was six or seven. It was only supposed to be temporary, but it's turned into seven years, five months, six days, and twenty hours. I adjusted quickly; I love the wide-open spaces. Our farm is forty acres, and my dad rents another twenty or so. But what I don't like is the kids here. They're too…too…hillbillyish. The only thing most of them are concerned in are tractors, and sports. The girls, of course, only care about the guys. There are a couple others, though, that are different. Smart like me, who actually care about their future."

"I always knew I was intelligent, above most others. When I was in first grade I read college-level psychology texts. I was always finished with my work first, with top grades. I had the work for the class completed in one day, a week at most, for the entire year. That's how easy it was. Eventually, I began to ask the teachers for extra assignments, and that's how I got where I am today, barely taking any classes and doing so much other work. I've subbed for absent teachers so many times I can't count; the school isn't too big on hiring substitutes. Besides, many won't come back."

"Your peers listen to you?" Jarod asked, amazed at what she was telling him.

"They aren't my 'peers' so much as my acquaintances. I have few friends; to most I'm simply not there. Oh, they listen, though. Like I said, I help out a lot. First period I have civics, second I work in the office, answering the phone and assisting Ryan if he is there, third is biology, fourth is lunch, then I have reading and English. Next, I teach the sixth grade intros course to computers, then I work in the library. Last I have algebra. If I don't work during one of the periods I mentioned, I sit in on a class. The district doesn't care, as long as I get my work done. But I'm sure you know that, as you've seen my schedule."

Jarod's eyes nearly popped out of his head. She was one busy girl..."How do you manage all that?"

"It's easy. But this isn't what I need to talk about. I just thought I'd give you a look into my life. Which you can see isn't as majestic as yours."

"My life was far from impressive," Jarod said, "But please, continue."

"As I said before, most of my family lives in the city, in Westbrook, about fifty miles from here. I'm not too close to most of them; my mother has two sisters, one has two kids, the other has seven. Her mother likes them much more than me; she shows it in more ways than one. She is actually mad when I get all A's, or if I get another honor in school. She believes I should allow other kids a chance, instead of always snatching it up. My father has a sister and a brother. I've always been closer to that aunt than the other two. My uncle has no children, never married. I'm the only grandchild that lived close enough to see my paternal grandmother often, the other three from my aunt live in Minnesota. She lavished me with love, happiness."

"When I was born, Grandma was in a coma," Here Leeanna stopped suddenly, and reached for the wildly colored afghan folded over the back of the sofa. Curling it around herself, she continued slowly, "The doctors thought she would die, as she had diabetes and a history of cancer. But the day I was born she woke up, after ten days of being comatose. She always said I was her reason for living. In November of 1999, she passed away."

"I'm sorry," Jarod told her softly.

"Don't be," she snapped back. "It all started almost half a year before that, in August. Grandma had fallen and broken her arm trying to get in the shower. Because she couldn't reach the phone, she stayed in the bathroom for hours, waiting for my uncle to come home from work. She stayed in the hospital for a few days, then moved to a nursing home. My mother and I wanted her to go to Southview, where they had rehabilitation and they actually made the patients help themselves; but Grandma wanted to go to Northvista, where her sister was. She'd been part of a large family, with nine brothers and sisters. Ann and Ethel were the only two left, and Ann was in the home. Once she went there, she never left alive."

"Her doctor should have seen it, but he didn't. For years her left arm had hurt, but he'd always said 'pop some aspirin and take a nap.' She followed his wrong advice. The pain was actually bone cancer. It killed her, and those morons at the damn home never saw a thing. My parents used to take me to visit every Sunday, even though I had a broken foot myself. One day, close to the end October, we were at the mall, passing time until we could visit. My father met Jason, a cousin who worked at Southview. He told my father not to take me to see my Grandma...I never saw her again till the funeral. By that time, late October, early November, she was incoherent and out of it most of the time. On November fifteenth she died."

Jarod repeated his earlier words, "I'm sorry."

But Leeanna ignored his expression, and just continued her tale, "I've never cried...You know what a realization that is? When my father received the call, from my uncle, my mum and I were watching as he got the news. He drew a finger across his neck, like a guillotine. Like a sword. That's how I knew. I didn't cry...The funeral occurred a few days later. I had to sit through eight hours of staring at the mahogany coffin, the pale waxy face. You see, Jarod, I'd never been at a burial ceremony before, my parents had tried to shield me from the horrors of the world. I never cried...through it all. I was a rock. A unemotional, unfeeling rock."

Jarod had noticed that she kept repeating, 'I never cried...' Those words were important, some key to something bigger. Plus her ruminations about being a rock.

"After her death, everything sort of fell apart for me. I didn't allow myself to feel pain, to feel sorrow. Mum gave me the option of missing a week of school, but I went, even the day before the funeral. Nobody here knew about her death, as she'd lived in Danville. Where my father grew up. When my teachers did hear, they were sympathetic, but I brushed them off. I got on with my life...or I thought I did..." Leeanna turned to Jarod. "Remember when you asked me if 'I knew what happens when you hold back all those feelings you've been bottling away?' And I said yes?" She questioned, in much the same way he'd asked if she remembered Miss Parker.

Jarod shook his head, "Yes, I do."

She stretched out a bit on the couch, so that she was lying down. "Good. I do know what happens...I've experienced it. It's painful, reliving the feelings that you thought were gone forever. In a way, it's worse than experiencing them the first time. Because you already know how they feel, how the sorrow and grief and pain cuts into you like a barely sharp knife, hacking away at your heart and soul. Mrs. Mazola tried to get me over this hump, but I don't think she did a very good job. I say this because I just know somehow that she didn't."

"Once, I screwed up the little courage I had left, which wasn't much, and I told her that I was contemplating suicide. Which I was, and still am. Sometimes, it seems like the perfect way out. Death at my own hand, deciding when to go. A couple of my friends have already done it, and they had horrible lives. Way worse than mine. So, in a way, I don't feel entitled to it. I feel like it would be too easy, that I haven't suffered enough. I told that bitch Mazola that I was thinking about maybe, when I could drive in two years, crashing my car into a tree. Or a ditch. I begged her not to tell anyone, even though she had to, if she believed I was truly suicidal and capable of doing something. I gave her permission to tell my mother, and she called her into her office. Earlier that day, just hours ago, she'd broken through the mask I'd hidden behind for a year, by making a minor comment about friends. Mazola told my mother that I was considering taking my life, but mum didn't believe her. She was angry at me, if anything." Leeanna laughed caustically.

"After I told Mrs. Mazola what I've told you, pretty much, she just wasn't like she used to be. Didn't want to talk to me...Sometimes I just needed to talk...but she was more concerned about her nephew. He's in my class, and you can't find a fatter pig anywhere. Soon, I began questioning myself even more. I stopped hanging with my 'crowd,' not that I'd done much socializing with them anyway, and started chillin with the 'bad kids,' the high-school dropouts, the ones who failed, the druggies, the smokers. They were my first *real* group of friends, who accepted me for who I was, not the capabilities of my brain. I fit in, you know? I began going out with Jack, the worst of the group. Twenty and he still didn't have a job. He showed me drugs, booze, crack. Not that I took most of it. The worst thing I did was drink. And now, I'm a fourteen-year-old alcoholic, hooked in three months." She laughed again. "I must sound pretty pathetic, huh?"

Jarod shook himself; he'd almost been to the point of simming her life. "No, you don't. I think that it is acceptable, based on what you've been telling me. Well, not acceptable, but understandable. Where were your parents during this?"

She grinned sardonically. "Now that my father has a new dog, a stray that showed up one day, he's just in love with her. My mother...all she worries about is Instant Messaging, and playing solitaire games. Besides, I can't bring myself to talk to them. Continuing on, anyway, when you found me by the side of the road today, I'd just come running from Jack. I was finally tired of being the good and bad girl, like a set of twins. I told him I was leaving, and he punched me before he let me go. Guess I'll have a nice little admonition from him for a while," Leeanna said, and pointed to her bruising eye.

"I've spent the better part of the last two years depressed, emotional, non-feeling, and suicidal. I'm tired of it, damn tired of it. I want to turn my life back around, and I will. But suicide will never be far from my mind, and I'll always try to be like a rock. Life is so much better that way." Suddenly, she got up off the leather sofa. Walking to Jarod's armchair, she held her bare wrists out. "You see, I've already tried once." Leeanna traced the shiny scar on her left wrist. "But I couldn't bring myself to let it happen. My parents don't know, of course. If they did, I'd be at Renway Pines, the local psycho hospital faster than I can count to five." Seating herself once more, she waited for Jarod to speak.

Jarod thought it might be best to bring up the 'crying issue.' "You said repeatedly that you never cried...care to elaborate?" He asked carefully, eyes searching her face.

"Why not?" She got up and paced the living room, her feet sinking into the burgundy plush carpet as she spoke. "For me, crying means that you let yourself feel, that I've let myself come down from that invulnerability that being a rock gives you. But one day, it had to come out." Her voice became softer as she recalled a past memory, "I was in Mrs. Mazola's office, and was redoing one of those career tests they make you take before high school; I hadn't liked the answers on the other one. A friend of mine, Skye, had been taking about the school trip for eighth grade to D.C. Of course, I wasn't planning on going, and I said as much. Mazola made a comment, something along the lines of, 'You can't survive without friends.' I immediately told her otherwise, that I'd been doing that for years. Then it all came tumbling out. I let myself cry, the first time in a couple years."

"I see," The Pretender said.

This time, Leeanna didn't snap back that he didn't. "Maybe you do," she replied quietly.

"Well, that's my life. Nothing glamorous. Nothing important." The teenager finished.

Shaking his head no, Jarod responded, "Quite the contrary. Everyone is important, whether they believe it or not. Leeanna, I think you already know this, but your behavior isn't healthful. 'Pretending' to be two people like you are; the girl next door, and the queen of bad; will eventually tear you apart. Yo-"

"It already has torn me apart...I told you that...that suicide is becoming preferable. But I want to turn my life around, Jarod! I'm trying."

"That's good, that you're trying. It's often the first step, realizing that you need to help yourself. Have you ever thought about a medium between the two? I see the way you are dressed now, like the kids you hang out with, and the way you look at school, like a little CEO. Maybe an in-between will help some, too," he suggested.

"Jarod, you were right, it *did* help to talk about everything that's been plaguing me for the past two years, to get it in the open. Thank you," She said sincerely.

"Thank you as well; it also helped me to tell you about me." Jarod told her truthfully. "Would you like to get something to eat before I take you home?" He asked, knowing that she was done talking now.

"Sure," Leeanna answered, starting to get off the couch again. But she sat quickly, as the familiar black halo of raging noise and darkness surrounded her...she barely heard Jarod's frantic voice as she dropped to the oblivion...

-~-~-~-~-

She descended from the blackness slowly, regaining one sense after another. She still felt cloaked the darkness, the comforting aura of haziness. "Leeanna?" She heard dimly.

She tried to say 'I'm okay,' but couldn't get the words out yet. But as the pounding withdrew from her ears, the echoing blankness from her eyes. She tried again, this time succeeding.

"What happened?" Jarod asked, concerned.

"I fainted," Leeanna answered quickly, "It's nothing. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," She said, rising to leave, but Jarod pushed her back down.

"You aren't going anywhere until I make sure your okay," he said, rummaging for a stethoscope in his black case. "When's the last time you ate," He questioned, suspicious.

She replied flippantly after a pause, "Maybe yesterday. Had a wine cooler a couple hours ago. Oh, Jarod, I already know I'm anorexic, too. I thought I was too fat a while ago, so I quit eating. But after the first few times I fainted, I realized I had to start eating. I must have forgot."

"The first few times?"

"Well, this isn't the first," and she laughed, a bit delirious.

Making sure she was sitting on the chair, and wasn't about to fall off, Jarod went for food.

Kicking the shiny white fridge closed with his foot; Jarod balanced two gallons of ice cream in his hands. Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough and Mint Chocolate Chip. Reaching for two large bowls, he scooped generous amounts of the freezy concoction, and literally covered the piles with Pez, sprinkles, sugar, and butterscotch syrup. Walking back to where Leeanna was seated, he set a bowl in front of her and a large spoon. "Eat," he commanded.

When she finished, Jarod talked to her sternly. "I told you before, Leeanna, that this isn't healthy. One day you'll regret what you did if you don't turn your life around, and soon. You need to talk to your parents, need to tell them the stuff you told me."

Leeanna turned her eyes to him. "I know, I know I have too. And I will, eventually."

"Please, do it soon," Jarod requested. "On a lighter note," he said, "Aren't you happy we took my advice?"

She nodded. "Yes, I am. Like I said before, it helped me a lot. Thanks, Jarod," She told the Pretender again.

Taking a glance at the clock, Leeanna said, "Would you mind giving me a ride home? My parents might be a little worried."

"Not at all."

Leeanna followed Jarod to the garage, where his Jeep was parked. She gave him directions to her house, pointing out roads as they passed. He paused outside her cedar-shingled house to turn to Leeanna again. "I'd like, if you don't mind, to know how everything goes, how things work out."

Grinning, she answered, "Sure, I'll tell you. But how am I going to reach you?"

For an answer, Jarod rummaged in the glove compartment, and pulled out a cell phone. "My number is programmed into it," He told her, handing the phone to her. "If you need to talk again, or if you've talked to your parents, please tell me how it goes, okay?"

Leeanna took the phone. "Jarod, of course I will. Just our talk helped me tonight so much. You shrinks are right. Talking does help." She hopped out of the Jeep, and pushed the door closed. Walking down the driveway, she called more thanks to Jarod, and goodbye.

-~-~-~-~-

"This is Sydney," the psychiatrist spoke into the phone. "Sydney, what do you know about suicide?"

Recognizing Jarod's deep voice, the doctor bit his lip. How could he answer this question? "I believe you know what suicide is, Jarod. The sometimes illegal taking of one's life. Some people see it as a solution, they think that by killing themselves everything will change. Often, it is associated with depression. Why do you ask about this, Jarod?"

The Pretender replied, "Because today I met someone, a young girl, who had been 'battling' with the thought of suicide, or self-murder, for two years. I met her in my pretend as a guidance counselor. She asked me why shrinks never take their own advice."

"Which is?" Sydney asked.

"Talking about what bothers you. Tonight, I took that advice…and it does help, Syd. Do you remember Mobby?"

"One of Raines old projects?"

"Yes. One night, I couldn't have been more than thirteen; alarms went off all over the Centre. Scared and worried, I waited for you in my room. When you finally came, you told me that Mobby had killed himself. Then, I didn't understand…now I think I do."









You must login (register) to review.