MS. CLAY-   BRIGHT HOPE COUNSELING CENTER<br/><br/>Ms. Clay stared at Rachael, the tempest within her reaching a boiling point.  "Special needs?  I have many needs.  One of them is not to be treated like I'm about to rip your head off."  Ms. Clay tried to sigh, and just had a brief fantasy of biting the psychologist's head off.  As her hate intensified, a tiny, almost inaudible crack issued from Rachael's desk, where a pen had mysteriously cracked, and started spilling its ink into its insides.  Though in reality, there was only a tiny bit of ink coming from the pen, like blood oozing from a minor wound.  In the eyes of Ms. Clay, the room was quickly being covered with a gusher of ink, and more horrible things.<br/><br/>The unexpressive woman closed her eyes, angrily trying to will herself to breathe faster.  Her pupils contracted, only very slightly, and she leaned back on the couch, trying to force herself to relax.  "You can give me everything I need, if you're willing."  Ms. Clay whispered softly, opening her eyes to see a room covered in blackness.  Her heart finally started pumping faster in fear, as the darkness within her desperately cried out for a fix.  "All I want, all I need, is for you to suffer.  For you to feel pain.  To cry."  Ms. Clay whispered, scooting closer to Rachael and placing a hand on her shoulder.  "Just lie down, close your eyes, and let me tell you a story."  She whispered, staring at Rachael with needy eyes.  "The story will be terribly sad, and at the end of it, you won't want to live anymore."  Ms. Clay whispered, moving closer and closer to Rachael, lightly stroking her back.  "Just relax and don't worry.  At the end of it all, you'll remember that the story was about my life, and not yours, and I'm confident you'll find a way to shake off the depression in a week."  Ms. Clay said in a soothing voice, trying to compete with Rachael to see who could calm down the other more, her warm, soft skin pressing against the therapist's with a feather touch.