I now present to you….

If anybody asked why they saw seventeen-year-old Liz Myers walking into psychiatrist Dr. Doughty's one-story office building at the corner of Heild and Birch, she would tell them that what they saw was simply a figment of their imagination and that they needed immediate medical attention.

But, in truth, Liz really did walk into psychiatrist Dr. Doughty's one-story office building at the corner of Heild and Birch, signed in at the counter, sat on a leather couch and talked to Dr. Doughty. In fact, she went through this routine twice a week, and had for a while.

Currently, Liz was sitting in Dr, Doughty's waiting room, reading a pre-teeny bopper magazine, waiting for her appointment with her crackpot of a psychiatrist. With her thick, dark hair carefully hidden away under her older brother's baseball cap, and her expensive, oversized, Gucci sunglasses perched on her nose. Liz sat and waited, trying her best to be as inconspicuous as possible. If anyone from school were to see her here she would die of embar—

"Mrs. Myers," the receptionist called "Dr. Doughty is waiting for you in her office."

Liz gathered her Kate Spade handbag and headed down the hall, her brown sandals padding across the expensive royal blue carpet. When she reached the designated room she entered and sat on the plush, leather couch in front of Dr. Doughty.

"Let us pick up from where we started last week shall we? Your mother, lovely women by the way, said you have been acting a little strange. She said stress, or maybe even a little anxiety."

Her mother? A little stress? Some anxiety?

"Well Mrs. Dough—," started Liz.

"Dr. Doughty," corrected Dr. Doughty.

"Well, Dr. Doughty, did my mother tell you that I'm taking four A.P. classes, I'm the class president, captain of the swim team and chief organizer of the senior class trip all of this to get into my dream school, Harv—"

"Dear, I'm just going off of what your mother-"

"Did my mother tell you that my father ran of to San Diego with a 23-year-old immigrant from Sweden?" she paused to take a breath. "Or that my mom is getting married to a man with two kids in a few months?"

Liz grabbed her bag and walked towards the door, turning towards Dr. Doughty. "Yeah, I guess you could say I'm a little stressed and hell, maybe even a little anxious," she gave Dr. Doughty a smile and shut the door.

Though the door was closed, Liz still heard Dr. Doughty's voice loud and clear, "Same time next week!"