Chapter 3

"Don't diagnose immediately. A doctor's biggest mistake is to think he knows more than the studies carried out over decades, you're not special and you shouldn't think you're the greatest when you have the biggest cards up your sleeve to pass sentence on your patient." I opened the door in the middle of the explanation, not looking up into the face of Mr. Clark, who paused his words dramatically until my ass was pinned to the chair. "You need boundaries, your diagnosis must go beyond the voices in your head. You can end a person's life with a wrong diagnosis."

I tried to keep quiet, what I least wanted was to attract even more attention after my tardiness fiasco. I took my notebooks out of my bag and my suspicions were right, I had lost my pens on the way to the classroom. I closed my eyes and took a few breaths before weighing up my options.

Ask Jess or her friends, use my phone to take notes, which was expressly forbidden by Mr. Clark, or just let the class pass and try to remember it later.

"Suppose you're having mental problems, and you conveniently need to see a psychiatrist." The class continued and Mr. Clark walked nonchalantly down the aisles of desks until he stood next to me. "Will they trust your early diagnosis, or will they order tests to even minimally prove what you're supposed to have?" Slowly, he fumbled in the pocket of his dark gray jacket and placed a pen next to my notebook while part of the class answered his question. "Exactly, professionalism comes way before your guesswork."

I blinked a few times to understand the situation, I hadn't demonstrated anything, I hadn't even informed him that there was nothing for me to take notes on from his class. As soon as I arrived, I simply took out my notebooks and put them on my desk.

I received a gentle squeeze on my shoulder and a glare from Jess and the gang.

"We're done for today, see you tomorrow. Remembering what I told you at the beginning of class, I'll also be giving you philosophy this semester and the rules during my class won't change."

The students got ready and slowly left the room, I had to face Mr. Clark's gray and irrefutable gaze, as well as his henchmen who were eating me alive with their eyes, I got up already knowing that the rest of my week would be sweet torture.

"Thanks for the pen, sorry to interrupt the class in the middle, it won't happen again."

He handed me the roll call sheet and I handed it back after signing it.

"Work, home, college. I remember how it was in my day, Miss Taylor, I've already told you that I only assign students who I see potential in and who I'm sure have finished their postgraduate studies. But you should cut down on the number of hours in your shift, or you'll end up missing not only my classes, but you'll do a lot more harm than you think."

"Yes, I know." I swallowed the small lump that settled in my throat. "Like I said, thanks for the pen, it won't happen again."

I felt a bit hysterical and had to take a few breaths to keep my heartbeat in tune with my breathing. He looked at me slightly and smiled, creating a few thin expression marks under his eyes. I held out the pen, hoping he would take it so I could get out of there as quickly as possible, but he just took off his glasses and ran his hand through his dark hair.

"Take it, maybe then you'll remember not to be late for your next class."

I coughed a thank you and broke through the queue of girls behind me, blocking the way out of the classroom.

...

I found myself biting the cap off that pen, just thinking about absolutely nothing. I stayed like that for a while, as far as I can remember. It was just after signing the chart of one of my patients, I was caught between an unconscious limbo and the fixed vision of a black dot on the wall of the room.

Exhaustion was now taking away my attention, if I carried on like this, I might not be able to deal with any patients. Mike was right and I hated to admit it.

But I needed the money those extra hours were paying me, not just for the love of my profession, of course. Studying wasn't cheap, especially in my field and with rent on my back.

I nibbled a few more times on the pen that was still stuck between my teeth. I needed a job that paid better, and even though I loved my patients, I had to figure out how to survive before the money couldn't pay for anything but college. It was a way of getting by, but it was even harder to get a job in the field I worked in.

"Are the records ready?" I nibbled a little more fiercely on the pen cap.

The sound of heavy breathing invaded my eardrums and my mind ignored it, that black spot on the wall shouldn't be there.

"Sarah?" The taste of plastic was somehow addictive, maybe that's why everyone had this annoying craze. "Sarah!"

I blinked more times than would be considered normal, Mrs. Jones staring at me with a scowl that would make horror movie lovers envious. The deep-set eyes under the drooping eyelids were just the charm of her terrifying look, the head of the nurses was a little taller than me and didn't admit mistakes in her supervision.

"They're here." I handed her the papers and she exhaled with her lips open. "They've been ready since early morning."

She measured me with disdain as she did every day and went back to her room, sulking. I sighed and just sat on the empty bed in my room with my pen in my hand. Today would be the last lesson of the week with Mr. Clark and I found myself thinking about how I would return a pen with its cap completely bitten off.

Shit.

I've been in a frequent trance over the last few days, and sometimes these trances would bring my gray eyes almost to blue behind those Ray-ban glasses. Trauma, that could be it. Fear of not doing well enough in his classes because of the pressure he had unconsciously put on me.

I was being forced to be the example of the class, and only now, away from his incisive gaze, was I able to see that. Would it be rude of me to look for another philosophy and psychology teacher? It certainly would.

...

I arrived before the class started and regret was the first thing I felt when Jess and her lackeys entered the class. I took so many deep breaths that my brain couldn't cope with the increased amount of oxygen which made me slightly dizzy, now I was sure that Mr. Clark had given me a little blonde death sentence.

But was she supposed to look at me in that slightly murderous way? No. Jess was younger than me and it looked like her money hadn't just been used for college I doubted she even worked, especially with nails that long.

I didn't have time to get ready, I barely had time to moisturize my hair, which I needed. She, however, seemed to spend hours in the salon and I only wanted an hour so I could go to the gym and shed the pounds I'd gained from eating processed, pre-prepared food.

She smiled mockingly at me and I could only think that in some past life, I would have been Judas himself to be so unlucky.

"Sarah Taylor." She clicked her tongue and I had to hold my eyes to stop them rolling back in pure debauchery. "Do you need pens? Do you want me to give you some so you don't interrupt class again?" Translated from: "Did you bring your pens so you wouldn't attract the attention of the teacher I desperately want to give it to so I get good grades?"