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Well, hmmm...it appears you've stumbled upon part 4 of Love Lost. Strange...it's a hard part to stumble on...did you mean to do that? Oh, that's not good...no, no, that's not...but you did it, you've stumbled upon it...you certainly definitely did...are you sure you meant to do that?! Ooh, you could get in big trouble...who do you think you are?! No, you know I'm kidding. ^ - ^ Still, welcome to part 4. Now read it before...I've run out of threats.
This was one of Dr. Kaufmann's most difficult to understand cases. Apparently, not only did Cheryl have some major momma issues, she wasn't so mentally stable when it came to her father's death, either. How could she deny her father's passing? It was perfectly logical; car accidents happen and so do fatal injuries. But she was acting as if Harry's demise had never happened. Kaufmann had a big mystery on his hands...things within Cheyl's mind that he hadn't yet reached.
"Well then..." Kaufmann began, his fingers loudly tapping against the table as he gave a puzzled look to Cheryl, "Apparently, we need to move on to another subject...our last topic made you..." His voice lowered. "And I..." His patient glared at him. "...very stressed. So, let's press on, shall we?" He stood and paced away, his voice calling out, "Don't worry, I'm just off to fetch a little something!"
What a pathetic little cockroach, Cheryl angrily thought to herself. She hated this shrink. He was rude, hypocritical, egotistical, and altogether annoying. But something inside Cheryl forced her to stay in that comfy leather couch and she groaned in frustration.
She heard Kaufmann skimming through a few papers-files, perhaps? She pondered for a moment what he was grabbing. Then she noticed his whiskey on the table and smirked, swiping it off and watching the glass hit the floor as the drink spilled everywhere.
Kaufmann walked in with another sheet and...colored pencils in his hand. Cheryl was bitterly puzzled...what, was she in preschool instead of therapy now? Her "teacher" sat down in his little chair and grinned. "It is time for you to let out your inner child, release your feelings into art." Kaufmann chuckled, sliding the paper across the table to Cheryl and noticing his cup was on the floor.
"Sorry, sir, I slipped." Cheryl grinned as Kaufmann sighed, lifting the fallen glass up to the table. "And what do you mean, 'let out my inner child'?"
"You need to let out your...creative, child-like side." Kaufmann started to explain, his eyes beaming with anticipation as his elbows comfortably met his knees. One of his hands gestured toward Cheryl. "Whether you're a little evil punk named Laura, or a scared, traumatized, leech-drinking orphan named Walter...don't worry, I'm just giving examples. They're not real children."
"Oh...okay..." Cheryl was slightly startled...did he say "leech-drinking"? Oh well, that didn't matter...
"I need you to color in this picture, needless to say," Kaufmann gave that all-too-familiar smirk as he pointed at Cheryl's assignment. "It's called 'A Happy Family'. Does it remind you of yours?"
Cheryl examined the house, the car, the mailbox, the middle-aged couple proudly displaying their household. The woman's smiling face reminded her nothing of Dahlia; the man's smile did bring her to think of her father. "...Yeah, kind of..." Cheryl stated blankly as she picked up her pencils.
"Goody good good!" Kaufmann's excited tone almost made Cheryl jump. "Oh...sorry...well, I'm off to get another round of whiskey. You work on that while I'm gone." With this, he gave a slightly agitated glance as he lifted his empty glass and left the room.
Cheryl decided to take out her anger toward the annoying, snotty Kaufmann through her artwork. For the house, all over it, she drew Kaufmann's corpses, some of them with their throats slit, others throwing up something green, even more with some of their limbs missing. "Heh...haha!" Cheryl cackled as she looked at the final house, covered in corpses and blood. "Best paint job ever."
She looked up nervously. Kaufmann was still gone. Then she got to business on the car, coloring it green and putting another dead body of her shrink in the driver's side. She put a decapitated Kaufmann head in the mailbox. "Woohoo!" She couldn't control her laughter.
Finally, it was on to the old couple. "Ew, elderly people. I need someone...younger." Her hand flung over to the elderly woman, quickly annihalating any wrinkles with the streak of a pencil. She had turned the old woman youthful. Then she deleted any chance of feminine traits. Now the "woman" was a young man. She made the man muscular, a red cape draping proudly behind his feet, sleeves drooping over his arms. For a final touch, she gave him slick white hair and leather gloves. "...Hmm...I'll call this one...Dante..."
The old man was a lot less trouble; but she still destroyed any chance of wrinkles and aging and made this young man a little more youthful than the other. His outfit was much similar to his friend. The final touch was different, however, and she found it much more epic to give him a demonic claw. It beamed mostly red, but there were blue streaks reaching down to the fingertips. "And this one...Nero..."
Dr. Kaufmann came sauntering in, carrying a new cup of alcohol as he plopped down into his seat. Cheryl stopped her drawing and looked up at him. "...You're done?"
Cheryl nodded and he took the sheet. Examining her masterpiece, Kaufmann's face went from confused, to horrified, to confused again. "Um...what a lovely...family home..."
Harry examined his home, corpses painted almost everywhere on the household. "Hmm...this is my house?!" At first, Harry was shocked, but then he remembered that he could barely remember anything and that was probably why he was so confused. "Well then, better get Cheryl..."
He trudged up the steps, reached his hand out and gripped the bloody doorhandle, and twisted. It was locked. Then he decided to slam his fists against the door. "Cheryl! Open up! It's me, your dad! Open-"
A man quickly jerked open the door, almost making Harry fall over. "...Hey there. Whaddya want?" The man towered over Harry.
"Uh...my daughter! That's what I want! Give her to me! CHERYL!" He bellowed out his daughter's name, trying to elbow past the man but to no avail as he was shoved back outside.
Now the man was angry. "The name's Dante, not Cheryl. ...You're lookin' for a kid, huh?"
Harry gave a disgruntled scowl as he glared at the man, no longer aghast by his muscular stature. "Yeah! Give her to me!"
"Well, we ain't got no girl here...however, if you want a kid...I'll be right back." Dante slammed the door right in his face, and Harry placed his ear against the door. Muffled punching sounds were heard, along with yelling...Dante must've been arguing with someone.
The bickering went on for a while, but Harry couldn't make out any words and uncontrollably went over when Dante opened the door again. "Ha, that's watcha get for eavesdroppin'..."
Harry stumbled up, his hands flexing into fists. "Now where's my DAUGHTER?!"
"Once again, I dunno." Dante smirked, looking over his shoulder and grinning. "But if you want a kid, here he is." He grabbed a young boy by the ear and yanked him over. "Nero, check it out. This guy's lookin for his daughter. You fit the bill."
"I'm not a kid or a daughter or whatever!" Nero hissed, slamming a clawed fist into Dante's stomach. "Now get this weirdo outta here!" He stormed away.
"This isn't making sense, Dante..." Harry cried in a pleading tone, meeting Dante's gaze as his lips quivered. "...All I want is my little girl..."
"Well, ya won't find her here," Dante harshly scoffed, slamming the door, once again, in Harry's face. Harry rammed his fists against the door once more, repeatedly beating away at it. He wanted his little girl and he was going to get her.
The door had officially become the victim of Harry's beatings. He kicked it and bashed it like there was no tomorrow, his energy literally being pounded out of him. "CHERYL!" He repeatedly screamed his daughter's name until he was worn out and stopped destroying the door. "Cheryl..." He slumped over to the steps and sat down, his head in his hands.
He sat there for hours, on the doorsteps, in the freezing cold blizzard. He didn't care about the cold anymore...he just wanted Cheryl. Suddenly, sirens burst through the area and a police car drove up, lights flashing brightly in the darkness. Harry glanced up at the driver's seat and immediately recognized Cybil's smiling expression.
"Thank God...the cops...Cybil, these freaks are in my house!" Harry screamed, his hand angrily pointed at his home.
"Your house? ...No, Dante and Nero moved in there...err, 14 years ago, I believe." So Cybil knew these punks? Harry was dumbfounded as he watched the woman exit her car and strut up to him. "That's why I was so confused when I saw their address on your I.D."
"But...but NO!" Harry bellowed. None of this was making any sense. "...I was supposed to find my daughter!"
"Look, Harry...I know you're confused. But I know nothing more than you do." She patted him on the back and guided him to her car. "What do you say we get you out of the cold and take a nice lil ride to the station, huh?"
"Damn cops..." Harry grunted as Cybil opened up the passenger's side door for him. He just couldn't understand what was going on...he had gone through all this for nothing...what was going to happen to Harry next?
Yeah, what IS going to happen to Harry next? Part 5, anybody? Hmmm? Yes? No? Maybe so? Leech water?