She scowled as her adviser talked. Thoughts ran through her head, unhindered.

“You’re the moron. I’m not stupid. I know what I know.”

She never should have told him about the voices she hears when no one else hears them. The people who talk to her that no one else can hear or see. She should have kept that to herself.

“Know what, Mr. Peterson?” She blurted out in the middle of his monologue, “I think I’m cured.”

Grabbing her book bag, Karen flounced out of the office without so much as a ‘Good Day.’

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