The Vampire's Apprentice

Clancy sighed, truly saddened by her decloration, but not surprised. "I will be going in with you, at least this time," he said quietly, "and I will force you if I need to. Please do not make a scene. Please."
 
Kitty did not yield. "Force me you will. I'm not going in there." Then she sighed, grumbling, "but I will not make a scene if it can be helped."
 
He leaned closer. "Kitten, this is for you," Clancy said, his tone surprisingly tender. "You are hurting and you are frightened. I do not like seeing you like this." He sat up when a professional looking woman with her silvery hair pulled back in a bun opened the door.
"Mr. McCleary, please,, come in!"
Clancy stood and turned to Kitty. He held out his hand quietly.
 
Kitty turned her head away, refusing. She didn't reach to take his hand. It was only delaying the inevitable, she understood that, but the girl was not going to give in.
 
Clancy sighed. "Very well," he said softly. He reached down, grabbed her around the waist, and picked her up. He shifted her around so he could hold her legs then turned and walked toward the startled coucilour.
 
This was ridiculous. Her arms remained stubbornly crossed and she glowered at some far off point in the distance. The one thing she did not do was choose to fight him, per the promise she would avoid creating a scene.
 
"I... see there is some tension between you two concerning this visit," the lady said, stepping out of the way and indicating the couch.
"I hope the rest of your observations are half as astute as that one," Clancy said blandly as he carried Kitty over and set her down on one end. He took the other end.
 
"I'm not talking." Kitty said, blunt and irritable as possible. She crossed one leg over her other and made a statement of looking toward neither of them. "Leave me out of this."
 
"Mr. McCleary told me that he was insisting on this meeting out of concern for your mental health as well as your physical wellbeing," Mrs. Turner said as she took her seat across from them. "He seemed to be very worried about you and said you have gone through some hard times. That is all he told me, not wishing to betray your privacy. He expressed a desire to help you but felt he was not up to the task. How do you feel about that?"
 
"I'm not talking." She repeated. The faster this was over with, the less time she would have to express her hatred of the place.
 
"Will you at least explain to me why it is you seem so uncomfortable here? Aside from apparently being tricked into coming," the woman pressed gently. "I wish to understand your anger."
 
"I. Am not," Kitty shot a glare in Allison's direction, "talking. And yes, I am very hurt at being forced to come in here." her gaze was briefly directed at Clancy before she went back to staring at the wall.
 
"Mr. McCleary, why did you force her to come here when you knew it would cause her to feel betrayed?" Mrs. Turner asked in a calm tone, turning to him.
Clancy hesitated, but if he expected Kitty to talk and be honest, he would have to do the same. "Because no matter how angry she became with me, I felt it was worth damaging her trust to get her help. I would rather her distrust me and find healing than have her trust me implicitly while slowly rotting away inside."
"That is a brave and bold statement," Mrs. Turner said with a slow nod. "Still, it is a harsh thing to have someone you care about hate you."
"Yes, but it is even harsher to walk in on their corpse after they fed themselves a bullet," Clancy said bluntly.
 
Kitty grumbled something about preferring to rot, but said nothing else otherwise. She had no intention to speak to either of them for the remaining duration of this visit or during any possible visits in the future. "Not. Happening." was pasted clearly on her forehead.
 
The woman nodded. "It sounds as though you are speaking from experience. Will you tell me about this friend?"
Clancy shifted uneasily. "This session was supposed to be for her."
"Yes, but," she gave Kitty a glance that seemed almost amused, "clearly she is unwilling to speak. It would be a shame to waste this hour, and you do not wish to rot yourself, do you?"
Clancy shrank back, mumbling softly.
 
Had she been in any better mood, his discomfort would have instigated a snicker, but at the moment she was bent on remaining dead silent, waiting for this "hour" to be over with.
 
Mrs. Turner also sat silent, waiting patiently.
Clancy finally admitted in a stiff voice, "The last friend I allowed myself to have went through a trauma similar to Kitty's. Not the same, but similar. They refused to talk about, acted as if it never happened, and they were so cheerful, I thought they were fine. Then they killed themselves."
 
"I'm not planning to kill myself. If I was, I'd have to also want to do something irrevocably stupid and jeopardize a certain something." It was hopefully clear to Clancy by the way she said it and the head tilt in his direction what and who she was referring to. "I wouldn't even have to worry about suicide. Though, I must say this conversation is making me heavily reconsider the idea," and who else might be brought down in the process.
 
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"Perhaps you may not be considering it directly, but many people who are in your situation do not!" Clancy snapped in a sudden flash of anger. "Not to mention, when I met you, you were showing clear signs of suicidal tendencies in trying to discover a creature that was most likely to kill you, and you were happy with that." He stood and gave Kitty a mocking bow. "Forgive me for being concerned for your well being! I am so terribly sorry I dared to cross that line. Now, if you are so intent on acting like a spoiled child, then I shall act like your father and order you to stay in this room and talk with this woman who intends to help you. I shall return when you have finished."

His outburst concluded, Clancy turned and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Stay" and "talk" had been laced with a layer of hypnosis, but it was little more than a strong nudge. She would feel compelled, but not forced to comply.
 
Stay she did; talk she stubbornly, stubbornly refused to comply with. Even the strong, forced desire to speak was repressed by her unwillingness to touch the topic, and this way it remained for the duration of the hour. Every time something would come up she wanted to say, she cut it off and bit at her tongue. Not a word escaped her lips.
 
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