PsychopathThe first time she heard the word she had been sure her ears were playing tricks on her. But then it came again, louder this time
"Hey Psyche! Psychopath!"
It was a handful of the boys in her class, maybe four or five of them at most. They had never talked to her outside of the classroom before, preferring to kick around the slightly-deflated soccer ball around on the frosted glass. But it appeared they had found a new game to play today.
She blinked them over; they wore odd grins. Smiling usually meant happiness but these weren't quite smiles. They were more like...she wasn't quite sure, but she found her fingers quivering slightly, wrapped around her magazine.
"What do you want?"
The boys' eyes widened, as if they were a bit surprised she had answered. The biggest one, their leader Jacob, took a step forward, soccer ball still in paw. His mouth curled into that not-smile again and was about to say something when the school bell rang.
"You're in luck Psychopath- run home to your insane asylum."
The group of boys seemed to find this hysterical, howling with laughter and slapping Jacob on the back. Psyche, needless to say, didn't, and trudged out of the schoolyard rather quickly. Something in the pit of her stomach hurt.
When she arrived home, at the clinic which was very much
not an insane asylum, the door fell victim to her foul mood. She had hardly meant to close it that hard but now the glass was scuffed and scratched. Already there was a bit of a draft wafting in. But Psyche had no time nor patience for door repair at the moment- she had other plans to make. She told the doctor she was too tired for therapy today, which, as it was something she only ever said when she was sick, prompted the man to tuck her up in bed and bring her lemon tea despite protests that she was perfectly fine. But his insistence that she sleep and subsequent shooshing of her neighbors did give the kit plenty of time to think.
And think, and think, and think she did. She overthought and underthought and thought around and thought behind and thought all over the place. She thought and thought an thought until Psyche knew exactly what to say to those boys tomorrow.
When the sun rose sleepily over the Alaskan peaks and the school bell rang and all the little children filed in, there hung about the room the usual morning chatter which Psyche, as usual, tuned out. But there was an underlying newness to the everyday chatter- excitement, mischief, a bit of malice perhaps. All that was lost on the young kalon of course, all but the word that seemed to slip from each of her classmates' tongues.
"Psychopath." She couldn't concentrate all school day with that word slithering in her ear and wrapping itself around her horns. She had a plan, she knew how to deal with it, bu then why was this horrible knotted feeling still stuck to her gut?
Break couldn't have come soon enough but when it finally did Psyche followed the gang of boys out onto the tundra where they usually played. The openness, the lack of trees or anything to separate the land from the sky set her heart pattering faster. She was scared yet she refused to acknowledge it and this odd form of bravery let her waltz right up to them in the middle of their game.
"What're you doing Psychopath? Can't you see we're in the middle of a game?"
Jacob said it so offhandedly that Psyche was caught off guard. Maybe he really didn't get it and they could clear things up?
"I'm not a psychopath. I have alexthymia, it's different. You see- psychopaths have emotions they just don't understand or care about other peoples' emotions. Alexthymia just makes it hard for me to understand emotions mine or yours or-"
The boys were glancing at each other and then back at her. One of them twirled their paw next to their head, another just laughed. This was what she hadn't been prepared for- the reactions. She had been hoping for some understanding nods or the like- certainly not this.
"Like, like right now. You seem bored? Or amused? Maybe- understanding? Maybe?"
"One of those is right for sure!"
They treated Jacob's comment as if it was the funniest thing in the world and Psyche suddenly felt very small.
"But basically they're very different. Psychopaths understand and don't care, alexthymiacs just don't understand."
"So you're a stupid psychopath?"
"And I know a couple of psychopaths actually. They're very nice, very interesting. What goes on inside their heads. They're scared you know, scared of how the world sees them. Guess most kalons are."
"Are
you scared Psychopath?"
This wasn't what she had planned on. Nothing in her mental notes had accounted for Jacob leering down at her and flicking her antlers roughly. He wore this terrible, terrible grin like some great white shark.
"I-I don't know. I think-"
"Well you should be."
The next thing Psyche knew she was laying prone on the ground, staring up at the endless, cloudless sky. Something thudded against her side- a soccer ball, she realized. And then it came again and again and again. She closed her eyes and curled in on herself, waiting for it to pass, knowing she wouldn't be able to fight back.
"We like to call this Soccer Therapy."
"Heh, maybe you'll beat the crazy out of her! That's what they do in the asylums you know? Shocks and whips n' stuff!"
"No they don't! We talk and-"
"Oh, you want to talk about your problems now? While why don't you just run back and see who takes the word of a psychopath?"
Then mercilessly the pack, for that was what they were- a pack of wild animals, departed with the bell. For the rest of the day they made no acknowledgement of what had gone down on the field and neither did Psyche. They were right about one thing, the teachers wouldn't take her word over theirs. Would her da- Dr. Boreas react the same way? What if he did? What if everyone did? Who would listen to the crazy girl?
"Did you hear? They say she wants to be a psychologist! Imagine the tortures she'd set up!"
The seating pair behind her were talking in loud whispers and made no attempts to keep their conversation private. Besides her, her seating partner scooted as far away from Psyche as she could, perching on the very edge of the bench. Psyche kept her eyes forwards and pretended not to notice. She didn't care, she didn't care, she didn't care.
But a small tear found it's way down her cheek and Psyche couldn't deny the emotion she now recognized. She was sad.
