Chapter 22:Help
Weakest chapter so far, no doubt.
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Patient: Cynthia Shirona, Aged 8.
Signs of depression, lingering trauma of accident, night terrors, antisocial tendencies.
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In a small, cozy looking office, a short, grey-haired woman sat in what looked like a very well-loved armchair, smiling kindly towards a tiny, sad-eyed bundle of blonde hair dressed in tee-shirt and shorts.
"Hello, Cynthia." The old woman greeted the girl as she sat down. "My name is Bertha Rowan, I'm a friend of your grandparents. Do you understand why you're here?" She asked softly as if the child was a skittish buneary.
The girl nodded, her head slowly moving up and down like a rusty bobble-head.
"Good." Bertha said. "Is there anything I can offer you? Water? Some chocolate? Maybe tea?"
Cynthia shook her head, still moving her neck like a paralysed slowbro.
"Alright then." Bertha picked up a notebook and pencil from the desk next to her chair. "I understand you've been having bad dreams?" She started, hoping to get an actual response from the melancholic child.
Her wish was granted when Cynthia dragged her eyes from her shoes and looked at Bertha. She held in a sad sigh. How many children had she seen with that same look in their eyes.
Far too many, by her guess.
"C-can you f-fix me? I don't want 'em anymore." The little one stuttered, her quiet voice barely carrying across the silent room. "I keep waking up Emmy, and it makes her cry when I scream." She pulled her legs into her chest, making herself seem even smaller. "I don't want Emmy to cry 'cause of me."
"Cynthia," Bertha used her most soothing and assuring voice, one that was well-practised over the years. "I can't promise that the bad dreams will go away quickly, but I do promise that I will do my best to make sure that they won't ever bother you again. All you need to do is trust me and allow me to do what I can to help you. Can you do that for me?"
Cynthia stayed still and silent for a couple of minutes before giving another slow nod.
Bertha made a show of cupping her ear. "I'm sorry, dear. I'm slightly deaf in this ear, did you say something?"
"I... I trust you, Ms. Bertha..." Was Cynthia's meek response, the child looked as if she was exerting a lot of energy just to speak at a normal sound level.
"Thank you, Cynthia. I'm glad you'll let me help you." Bertha removed her reading glasses, setting them aside. "How we ask a few questions, so we can get to know each other? How does that sound?"
Cynthia gave another shy nod, then spoke when Berth playfully tapped her ear. "I mean- I mean yes."
"I'll go first. I see that you have a pokeball. What sort of pokemon is it?"
Cynthia gave a tiny smile, brightening at the question. "My grandpa caught her for me on my birthday, she's a gible. Do you want to see?" She asked, her pale hand already reaching for the shrunken sphere.
Bertha smiled back. "I'd love to." She said, gesturing to the open floor between them.
Cynthia released the small dragon-type, who rushed over to her owner the second she left her pokeball. "This is my friend, Gible. Gible, this is Ms. Bertha." She said, lovingly petting the gible's chin.
"It's lovely to meet you, Gible." Bertha politely nodded towards the pokemon.
"Gib, gib!" Gible returned the greeting.
"Do you have any pokemon, Ms. Bertha?" Cynthia asked, seemingly more interested in the conversation.
"I have six, but they wouldn't fit in here, I'm afraid."
"Oh." Bertha noticed that Cynthia looked interested in pokemon, like most children her age, seeing as she had now perked up slightly. "Are you still a trainer?" She inquired.
Ignoring the unintentional slight at her age, Bertha replied. "No, no! I stopped being a normal trainer years ago when I became the Champion of Sinnoh." She explained.
"Oh, okay... Does "Champion" mean you're any good?" Cynthia asked, slightly confused by the new word.
Bertha bit her lip and gave a modest shrug. "I'm pretty tough. So, about these nightmares?" She pressed. "Do you want to try talking about them?"
"Not really... But Grandma says talking helps..." Cynthia said uneasily.
"Take your time, it's important that you learn to talk about them at your own pace."
Cynthia twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers nervously. After taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she spoke slowly and quietly, the memories robbing her of the small amount of light in her eyes.
"It always starts the same. It's cold and I can't see anything, it's all white. Emmy's screaming, but I can't hear Mommy or Daddy, I try to scream too, but I can't. I can't see, I can't shout, I can't do anything..." Her voiced hitched and she was forced to fight back tears.
"It's okay, sweetie, take your time." Bertha reassured her.
Cynthia nodded gratefully, taking another minute to steady herself. "Emmy gets quieter and quieter until I can't hear her and then it gets darker until everything's black and it gets hard to breathe." She inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. "And then I wake up and I scream. I always scream."
Upon seeing the haunted look in the little girl's watery eyes, Bertha Rowan realised that this case could take possibly years to get to the bottom of it.
Unfortunately, she was right. She hated being right.
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Patient: Cynthia Shirona, Aged 12
Severe anger issues, mild superiority/inferiority complex.
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Bertha watched as Cynthia angrily ranted to herself, staring out the window over Jubilife City. She had to sigh to herself in disappointment.
Even after years, Cynthia was still so angry, so full of hate at the world. She had hoped that she had helped Cynthia back in the Unova region, but it seemed that she failed.
It was truly a shame, the enraged snarl on her face and the thick foundation on her face really detracted from the natural cuteness of the girl.
She had tried her best over the years, but everytime she tried to help Cynthia with her issues, more seemed to crop up. She had taken to wearing dark clothes, black enough to absorb the light around them, giving the girl a shadowy, suffocating aura. Her face was caked in chalky-white foundation, covering her pale features. Her eyes were surrounded by eyeliner, giving her a look of permanent exhaustion. Her hair was much longer than Bertha had last seen it, it now reached to just over her knees.
Bertha ignored the ravings of the child, doodling away in her notebook, putting the finishing touches to her sketch of a drifloon. She put the notebook down and tuned back into Cynthia. "...even says that to someone who just beat them?! What a freak!"
"Ah... Yes... Then what happened?" Normally, she would be paying more attention to her patients, but since Cynthia had wandered in after hours and Bertha wasn't on the clock, she would just be a sound-wall for the girl.
"What do think? I told him to fu- I mean, get out of my face!"
"Nice save." Bertha smirked.
Cynthia sat down on the couch in the office, angrily crossing her arms. "What a weirdo! Who tells a twelve-year-old girl that they love her after she beats them in a battle?"
"What? You don't believe in love, Cynthia?" She asked idly.
"Not when the guy is like half my height!" Cynthia snorted scornfully. "Besides, it's all a load of tauros cra- I mean, nonsense."
"Nonsense? What do you mean?" Bertha enquired, now switching into "serious therapist mode" at this piece of information.
"Well, it's not real. Love, I mean." She muttered, tugging at a small, loose string on her coat. "If it fades or dies, then it's not real love. And everything dies." Cynthia concluded darkly.
"And what book of emo-poetry did you borrow that from?" Bertha smiled, her heart breaking a bit from the bitterness in Cynthia's voice. "I'm afraid that's what love is, Cynthia. It's quick and it's fleeting, but it never really dies or fades. Because real love lasts forever, even when someone dies, the love that someone had for them still exists, no matter what. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Cynthia frowned, levelling a empty glare at Bertha. "That's the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard." She said, her chilly voice even and unflinching.
"Language, dear." She admonished her sternly, feeling her cracking heart split in two.
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Cynthia Shirona, Aged 15
Apathetic, somewhat nihilistic demeanour. Possible return of depression.
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She found Cynthia on the roof of the Champion's Tower, staring out onto the rest of Shouri Island, looking rather foreboding.
Over the past three years she had ditched the heavy makeup, allowing her blossoming beauty to shine through, but kept the dark clothes.
"Cynthia," Bertha called out over the empty roof. Cynthia was either ignoring her or unable to hear her over the rushing wind. "Cynthia!" She repeated loudly.
Cynthia gave a start, turning to Bertha with a saddened look in her eyes. Well, eye now that she had started wearing her hair differently.
"Bertha, what's up?" Cynthia asked, attempting to give a convincing smile.
"Not much, I just came to say good morning to the new Champion." Bertha crossed the roof, placing a comforting arm around Cynthia. "How are you, dear?"
"Not- Not good, I guess... I was talking to Emily last night. She wasn't very happy to hear from me." She answered shakily, trying to covertly wipe a falling tear from her face.
"Oh, honey! Come here!" Bertha wrapped both arms tightly around her, hoping to comfort the girl who was slowly starting to sob.
They stood there for about ten minutes, until Cynthia managed to sort herself out. "Bertha... I was thinking that I'd take a week off and go back to Celestic Town and... and..."
"Cynthia, it's fine. You don't need to explain anything to me. You do what you need to do, I'll hold the fort for you.
"Thanks." Cynthia nodded gratefully, wiping her reddened eyes. "I was thinking... About what you said a while back, about love?"
"I think so? What about it?" How long ago had that been, two or three years?
"You were talking about how love was fleeting, and I realised that if you really love someone..." Cynthia paused. "You have to grab onto them and never let them go. You have to keep them by you forever and never let them get away from you." She said, conviction lacing her words.
"Well, that's good, I think?" Bertha spoke uncertainly. That sounded slightly obsessive...
"So, I was thinking that I'd leave now. I'll see you in a week, I guess." Cynthia said, moving to the stairs on the other side of the roof.
"Cynthia?"
"Yeah?"
"Good luck with your family."
Cynthia gave a genuine smile. "Thanks." As she descended the stairs, a single thought was on her mind.
Never again would she have someone she loved taken away from her. Never.
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Cynthia Shirona Aged 23
Happy
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Bertha knocked on the door of Cynthia's apartment, holding a small package beneath her arm. It was Cynthia's birthday, which was always a sore spot for her. But it seemed that since Cynthia had taken young Ash under her wing, that certain time of year had mostly lost the negative connotations she associated with it.
Mostly.
After a few minutes and more knocking, a messy-haired Cynthia answered in a black robe, tied haphazardly in a loose knot. "Bertha?" Whadda want?" She slurred, never having been a morning person by any stretch of the word. "It's eight in the morning on a Sunday!"
"Well, excuse me for wanting to wish you a happy birthday!" She replied with mock indignation.
"Birthday? It's my birthday?" Blinking tiredly, a look of realisation entered her half-closed eyes. "Oh, yeah... I forgot."
"How on earth did you forget your own birthday?"
"I've been busy..." Cynthia answered evasively.
"You haven't left your apartment in three day, what have you been..." Bertha tried to ask, but was cut off by a voice from Cynthia's bedroom.
"Cyn, come back to bed! Aren't we trying to beat our record?" Ash called out.
"Just a second, Ash! Just waiting for the massage oil to heat up!" Cynthia shouted back without thinking. She blinked twice, her tongue struggling to come up with something to say. "So, yeah, super busy." She whispered, sounding absolutely mortified.
Bertha laughed uproariously, passing the wrapped package to Cynthia. "My, my! You've come a long way since we met!" Bertha gave Cynthia a tight hug. "I'm glad you're finally happy, dear."
Cynthia briefly returned the hug and smiled. "Thanks, you know, for the first time in a long time... I think everything's going to be fine."
"I'll get out of here, you clearly have some other things to take care of. You go back to what you were doing, or rather who you were doing."
"Uh, yeah..." Cynthia laughed awkwardly. "See you later."
Bertha made her way towards the elevator, laughing to herself. "Bertha?" Cynthia asked as she walked.
"Yes, dear?"
"I just wanted to say thanks.. For always being there for me. Thanks."
Bertha laughed to herself again. "I always knew that some good sex would mellow you out."
"Good? More like great! Now I better make sure that massage oil doesn't explode." After the first two times... Ugh...
"See you soon, dear." Back on track, Bertha descended the elevator, content. Cynthia still had her issues, like her mildly obsessive behaviour when it came to Ash, but then everyone did. And she was a Champion after all, they were all a little mixed-up, some more than others.
*Cough* *Cough* Alder "I bet I can fight that hydreigon bare-handed" Adeku *Cough* *Cough*
But hey, she was finally happy, and really, that was all Bertha could hope for her. Cynthia was like a daughter to her, after all.