Abraham Rogers had become a psychologist for a variety of reasons, chief among them that he was uncomfortable with the rigidity of psychiatry as a profession and its propensity to solve psychological issues with pharmaceuticals. He had his clients call him Abe, as he felt the Doctor moniker was too heavy handed for his type of treatment.
He fancied himself a proponent in a long line of humanistic psychologists who offered unconditional support for anyone who needed to work through personal or professional issues.
As he sat in his dark office, shades drawn and lamp set to its lowest setting, he ruminated about the use of the word human.
His practice had suffered as of late.
The market had become saturated with recent graduates and despite a growing despair on the horizon, his billable hours began to decrease.
He had to consider a new kind of client.
The buzzing sound from the intercom on his desk woke him from his thoughtful pose. Standing, he depressed the button.
His secretary’s voice did not match her appearance. The brusque tone suggested a woman solidly built with a perpetual scowl. Eve was the very picture of carefree youth: bright blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair.
“Dr. Rogers, your 11 o’clock appointment is here. Should I send him in?”
Abe liked to meet his clients in the waiting room.
“I’ll be right out.”
Taking the three long steps from his comfortable seat to the thick oak door, Abe smiled––though managed little more than a self-conscious smirk.
Rhys was a mere specter of a man. His porcelain skin was accented by a burgundy shirt and dark pants. A pair of polarized sunglasses hid his eyes as he turned his head to the approaching Dr. Rogers.
“Good morning, Rhys. Shall we?”
Rhys stood with a smooth and effortless movement. His lean frame was hidden beneath layers of superfluous clothing despite the humidity outside of the office.
Abe had become accustomed to the strange turn his life had taken. Every academic had to specialize at some point in their career. Abraham Rogers’ practice had become a respite for the strange.
As he took the seat across from the couch, Abe gestured with his hand. There was something to the necessity of pleasantries in his particular profession.
“How are you doing this morning, Rhys?”
The leaner man seemed not to acknowledge Abe’s presence in the room; instead, he seemed keen on a sliver of light that emerged through the thick drapes behind Rogers’ desk. “Can we do something about that light?”
Abe nodded and attended to the drapery, tugging and moving it until the shaft of luminance was expunged from the room. “Is that better?”
“Quite,” came the terse reply.
With a huff, Abe was seated once more. He crossed one leg over the other and placed a tattered notepad on his knee. “Where would you like to start today?”
“Must you use such a raggedy journal, my good doctor?”
“Abe.”
Rhys waved a dismissive hand, his pale fingers tracing the air irritably. “Of course, we must maintain a conversational tone here.”
“Would you prefer to call me Dr. Rogers?”
Rhys exhaled and adjusted one of his legs underneath his body. “I would prefer to accomplish something during this session, Abe.”
Abe knew that Rhys grew impatient with a surprising quickness, though the vexation passed after a moment if allowed to marinate in the darkness.
“Have you given any further thought to the treatment we discussed?”
If Rhys had wanted to speak about a course of treatment, it was not revealed in the pursing of his pink lips. “I understand your propensity to use the flavor of the day, Abe, but I fear my affliction cannot be overcome with simple exposure.” He paused for effect. “It is that precise contact that causes me harm.”
“Do you feel like you are afflicted, Rhys?”
Rhys took off his sunglasses, revealing equally pale eyes that swam in shadow. “Do I not appear afflicted to you?”
“Who has burdened you with this affliction, Rhys? Who do you hold responsible for this suffering?”
Rhys’ long throat did not pulse, nor did his heart beat faster. One would have to have the appropriate equipment to have elevated blood pressure.
Vampires lacked the requisite parts.
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