Who the hell is Mara, then? Who am I...? I massage my temples, annoyed. So many questions and absolutely no answers. The only thing I'm sure of is that I won't be able to find anything out by being trapped here!
"Do you understand?" gently asks Dr. Epstein. "The nurse who is taking care of you mentioned you want to leave the hospital, but Clarissa, I don't think you are ready."
"I need to leave! You won't be able to achieve anything by keeping me trapped here!" I yell, frustrated. "I can read as many stupid cards as you have, do as many tests, I don't care, it's meaningless! My memories are gone, and I have been in here for weeks, with no progress at all!"
"I don't think that's true," he says. "First, your physical recovery was spectacular. I discussed it with your doctor earlier. He has never seen someone transferred out of the burn unit so quickly with the injuries you had."
I already know that. They call it a miracle, but it doesn’t feel like that. My body knows what to do, and is healing itself better than any of their ointments or treatments. All of my deeper burns have now changed to lighter ones. Not only do I not feel any more pain, but the process isn't leaving any scars at all. My skin looks as new and smooth as a baby's. They even tried to take some samples to study, but once they removed the skin from my body, it went back to being as burnt as charcoal, which was even weirder.
I'm not burnt by my own fire and my skin heals fast. So why would I have trapped myself inside of a fire?
"If I'm so fine, why not let me out?" I say. "I can even keep this stupid bracelet on if it makes you feel better!"
I can't take it off by myself, and it tracks and records my body temperature at all times. According to Bonnie, this thing was custom-made for me. My personal thermometer tracker or something. It sure is better than the handcuffs, but it's not like it's invisible either. I feel like I'm a ticking time bomb or a prisoner.
Dr. Epstein makes a serious expression, takes a few more notes, and raises his head again to look at me.
"It's not that I don't want to allow you to leave, Clarissa. However, you have to understand that this isn't only about your security, but that of others as well. Since your admittance to the hospital, you've burned two beds and injured several members of the staff as well. This isn't a trivial matter."
"That was weeks ago," I protested. "I haven't hurt anyone or burnt anything in weeks, I can control myself now. Bonnie can tell you, I won't injure someone again!"
He sighs, shaking his head.
"Clarissa, I think you appreciate Miss Bonnie very much. Just like your friend Kelsi, you wouldn't hurt people who don't upset you. However, things are different for people who don't agree to your demands. We both know you have been showing some anger management issues, and this is not helping me trust your self-control."
"When, then?" I retort. "You can't keep me here forever just because you don't trust me! If you never let me experience the outside world, how would you know if I can control myself or not?"
He clicks his ballpoint pen, one, two, three, four times. It's annoying, but I'm more annoyed at the fact that he's not answering me. I want to tell him to hurry up, but I need to keep my emotions in check. I'm already on edge, my hands feel hot. I know I can call my flames out at any second. It's as if my fire is reacting to my anger. I could blast this annoying guy, watch him burn down to ashes, walk out that door, and–
"Clarissa?"
I flinch.
"S-sorry," I mumble.
"You looked lost in your thoughts just now. Do you want to share what you were thinking about with me?"
Oh, that's not the kind of thing I can tell him. That my instincts are telling me to do whatever the hell I want, including getting rid of my psychiatrist by burning him like a piece of toast and breaking out.
"Nothing," I lie.
He frowns a bit, pushing his pen against his lips.
"I've noticed you seem to have those short episodes of absences regularly when you're with me. Does that happen often?"
"I'm not sure..."
It's the truth this time. I'm not even sure what those are supposed to be. It's almost as if I'm... someone else, for a few seconds. Like another voice taking over in my head. Where the heck does that come from? Every time, it's like someone else is in my head, whispering... I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
"Clarissa, talk to me. How do you feel right now?"
"Frustrated. I have a hundred questions and no one is willing to give me the answers I want."
"How about we list your questions down, then?"
I glare at him. Really? After weeks of being locked in here, he thinks everything can be solved with some stupid chit-chat?
"I want to see my sister."
