"Your office smells funny."

She peered back at me through her tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses. It was a slightly annoyed stare but she tried to hide it with more of an inquisitive look.

"And why do you say that?" She said, tapping the round pink eraser of her pencil on the top of her big legal pad of paper.

"Oh I don't know," I said as I wrinkled my nose. "Everything else that has met my nose is always so moldy and damp that anything else would smell funny." I leaned forward and propped my elbows on my knees. "But that's just the thing about places like this. Everything is so bland. Nothing ever changes." I leaned forward farther. "Yeah, what is with this place? I haven't even been here 2 months and I'm already in the ICU? What am I going to do? Transport myself back there? Nothing can take my mind of that place! Everything has to be simple and uniform because it takes all our minds off of what really happened!" I slammed my fist into the arm of the sofa. My cuff clanked loudly as I gerked my hand back up. A tiny dust cloud curled around my knuckles and tickled my nose. I let out a short, heavy breath for effect.

She looked down at her paper, pencil flying as she wrote down my actions. "What do you mean, 'off of what really happened'? Could you explain that for me please?"

I rubbed my head softly. I didn't like the short, shaved feeling of my hair. I bet I looked like a boy with my buzz cut.

"What do you think I mean? Seriously, aren't you from the CIA or something? One of those people that investigates supernatural interferences and stuff like that? I don't need to explain myself. It all happened." I crossed arms and sunk back in to the couch.

She put down her paper on the dark wood desk behind her and removed her glasses. She had old looking eyes that had little wrinkles on the sides. They were a honey color rimmed with something along the lines of...oh lets say a burgundy because that color isn't used enough in life. She let out a soft sigh.

"Ilom, do you know what you name means?"

"Of course I do. When my parents give me a name like Ilom, I really question their sanity and wonder what possessed them to name me that. It means 'My enemies are many.' Quite frankly, I got off easy. My sisters got Rhaxma and Delu. I mean, it may be a boys name, but at least it doesn't mean 'peacefulness' or 'the only girl'."

Her eyes drew back slightly at mention of my sisters. "Tell me about them. Your sisters."

I drew in a big breath and held it for a second. My eyes danced around the little office, taking in how ordinary it was. She wanted me to tell the whole story. She just hadn't asked yet.

---

"Well, I might as well start form the beginning. Delu was the first born, hence the meaning of her name. Mum didn't want any more kids. They were in their first few years in Africa when I came along. I was supposed to be a boy, so when I came, they had all these sickeningly cute blue and green hats and shirts for me. That's why I ended up with a boy's name, because my parents didn't want to go through the thought process to get me a new name. I was 3 when mum got pregnant again. We were moving again, to London this time. Mum got a job at the university. I remember her being really mad and dad threw a vase at her. Right after Rhaxma got out, Mum and Dad split. He moved to the other side of the world, in a little apartment in Japan.

Needless to say, Delu and I blamed Rhaxma for Mum and Dad. I mean, I was 4 and she was 7, so we couldn't blame it on much else because we couldn't think of anything. But we learned to like her and with time, became somewhat of inseparable. Rhaxma could dance, Delu could write, and I could sing. When Delu was twelve, she started writing music and we would have little performances for mum and the neighbors.

When I was 10, Rhaxma went missing. We were walking to the Stop-and-Shop by our house. It was barely a 10-minute walk. It was rainy and we had mums big black and white umbrella. We were on the sidewalk when she ran ahead this the umbrella. I didn't mind the rain, so I saw little point in chasing after her. She was laughing and yelling my name. I looked up at her just as a big blue van splashed up a huge wave over her. I laughed as I lost sight of her under the big white wave.

But…But when my laughing subsided…she wasn't there. The umbrella was wrapped neatly in the middle of the sidewalk, completely dry.

I ran all the way back home. Mum was terrified. Delu didn't believe me.

We had her funeral 6 months later. Delu and mum moved on quickly. I was hesitant to move on because I knew she wasn't dead. People don't die from cars wings when it rains.

From then on I put very little emotion into anything I did. People at school didn't talk to me and I didn't talk to them. I was cynical and quiet. Who cared what I thought anyway?

We moved out of London into a more scenic area when I was 13. Delu was furious because she had to leave all her friends behind. Notably, I was indifferent about the situation."

---

"What else happened?" She asked, jotting down the last of what I had said. I looked at her. She had to be at least 40. Probably older. Her hair was pulled back into a bun on the back of her head. She reminded me of what a strict teacher would look like.

"What does it matter?" I looked straight at her face. "You don't care. Nobody does, only to prove that I belong in this hell-hole you call a hospital."

She sighed heavily and shook her head slightly. "Ilom, lots of people care about you. I'm here to prove that you are stable enough to go back out into society. Now please resume your story."

"Why? And it's not a story. It all happened."

"How about…what happened when you went to visit your father?"

"…Wait…How did you…oh…never mind. I don't think I want to know."