"Hello, Mr….?" Dr. Reynolds greets, raising her pitch as the sentence ends.

"Octavian. " Octavian replies, settling into a wrinkled leather chair.

"And you're here because…"

"My friend put me up to it." Octavian says, way too quickly. A nervous sweat trickles down his neck. Frantically, he wipes it away, only to find the smelly substance on his hand. Octavian glances from his hand to Dr. Reynolds in a panic.

"Let's get on with it." Dr. Reynolds sighs, then crosses her arms.

"Well, my girlfr-" Octavian clears his throat, eyes full of fear. "My acquaintance doesn't like it that I slice open stuffed animals in order to get prophecies."

"To get what?" Dr. Reynolds inquires, an eyebrow raised. She places a hand on Octavian's and he shrivels away from her. His hand twitches slightly.

"Nothing." Octavian can suddenly hear everything really well; the clock ticking, the air vent blowing, his breathing, and the silence.

"So, slicing stuffed animals is a hobby of yours?" Dr. Reynold's voice is as smooth as the espresso color of her hair. Octavian can tell that she is sincere with every word she speaks.

"You could say that."

"Does this give you some sort of…. sense of power?"

"Well, you see…" Octavian is hesitant at first, then begins to ramble. "My mom is Beyonce. Yes, THE Beyonce." Dr. Reynolds gasps. "Yep. And she is very strict because she wants me to be well off one day, just like her."

"Mmmmhmm."

"So, I basically have no power over anything. And once I went to this, ah, summer camp, I experienced a sort of freedom. I guess I kind of took it too far." Octavian swipes his palm over his sweaty forehead in relief.

Dr. Reynolds was gazing at the clipboard in her lap. "According to your file, you can also be a bit cruel at times, especially to your friends. Is this true?"

Octavian cringes. "Wow. Reyna said some mean stuff about me."

"This is all to help me understand each patient's situation." Dr. Reynolds reassures, ice blue eyes full of concern. "I think I've come up with a treatment for you, Mr. Octavian."

"Really?" Octavian questions in disbelief. This was the third therapist he had visited.

"Your friend, Reyna, is to take away all of your stuffed animals and weapons. If you have a sudden urge to tear apart a teddy bear, call me."

"Thank you. I hope it works." Octavian stands up, brushes off his backside, and shakes Dr. Reynold's hand. He exits the room with his treatment papers under his arm.