Cat stood up to leave and so did her mother, but the two doctors remained on their seats.
“Catherine, could you wait outside for a few minutes? We need to talk to your mother,” Victoria said.
She froze. What could her psychiatrist want to say without her presence? Was the straightjacket coming? She shuddered and Ophelia caught up.
“Don’t worry, Cathy!” She chirped. “We aren’t doing anything behind your back. Look, I’ll go with you, Vic, you stay with Mrs. Wallenstein, okay?”
Dr. Coleman nodded and Cat was led outside by the psychologist. She kept a wary eye locked on the woman. “The next office is empty, I doubt Dr. Stone will mind if we use it. Shall we?”
Cat nodded. Then entered Dr. Stone’s office and Catherine remarked something about a lack of shelves full of pottery.
“I’m so proud of you, Cathy!” Dr. Whitman said. “It takes a lot of courage to open up and talk about that like you did. Both of you,” she said the last sentence seriously. She smiled and rubbed Cat’s head. “I find it amazing that you have each other in here to support one another. It’s like having your best friend with you all the time, isn’t it?”
Cat frowned slightly.
“I’m on your side, seriously. And don’t worry, Vic won’t put you in a straightjacket. That’s a thing of the past, thankfully lost in the last century,” she joked. “I know you went through a lot. What happened to you was terrible but you displayed enviable resilience. It feels like the world is out to get you, doesn’t it?”
“Tell me at any time if this gets too uncomfortable for you and I’ll stop, period. It seems you bought an enviable collection of sex toys.”
She blushed a bit. “Yes. As I said, I had no idea what would work and what wouldn’t, so I went for diversity.”
“I think you did the right thing. Tell me, Catherine, how do you feel about yourself now, compared to how you were before the accident?”
Cat sighed. “If you are talking to Catherine, she tagged out and doesn’t want to answer right now. She’s hearing though,” she winked at the end.
Ophelia closed her eyes for a few seconds, then put on a business smile, “I understand. I withdraw the question, Catherine. In the meanwhile, can I talk to Cat?”
The girl groaned, “This is not a phone call where only one person can get on the line at a time, we’re both conscious all the time.” she replied, a bit angered by the probing attempt to manipulate them. “Look, you separated us for a reason. What’s going on and please go straight to the point. We’re all tired. What’s Dr. Coleman doing with my mom?”
Cat had nailed her assessment. “Catherine, we...”
“I’m just tired. I’m not angry at you or even disappointed. I understand better than you that I’m a juicy case study of the basket kind and if you are to help me to the best of your ability, you must get the full picture. Your questions are welcome, it’s just that we’re too tired to delve deeper into the mess that’s in my head right now. So, can you take a rain check?”
She regretted sounding so passive-aggressive but she didn’t retract her words. Ophelia thought for a while, then nodded.
“Vic is telling your mother to stay out of your private life. Her invasion of your room was inexcusable. We are happy that you feel curious about your own body and are not rejecting your sexuality even after what happened to you. Well, you are but we worry about Catherine.”
Now it was Cat’s turn to beam her business smile. “Thanks for your concern. With your help, we’ll sort our issues out.”
She didn’t blame Ophelia. The psychologist looked young, maybe in her mid-twenties, with probably less than two years since she graduated. She didn’t think she was unprofessional but again she didn’t work at an ethics board.
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“I understand your concern, Mrs. Wallenstein, but you need to give your daughter the space she needs. I’ll be honest, invading her room and throwing a tantrum was the worst thing you could do. This was never about you. Your daughter was trying to get out of her shell and you reopened her scars. She’s eighteen, an adult by law. Were she not a rape survivor, it would be perfectly normal to be curious about her sexuality. But she is a survivor, through and through. Most victims of sexual assault never reconnect with that portion of themselves and she was trying that on her own. You may have set her recovery back by months. Did you understand the gravity of what you did?”
Mrs. Wallenstein hated being scolded more than anything. Cat was right, everyone was tired, and Dr. Coleman probably had her own opinion regarding the utter lack of family support during Cat’s recovery at the hospital. Seeing the egotistical woman treating her estranged daughter as a pet, a possession, or a toy enraged her. If Catherine was a minor they’d be talking to state CPS [1].
“Do you fear God, Dr. Coleman? Don’t you understand I was just trying to save my daughter from eternal damnation?” The bitter widow spat back.
Hi, Cat (formerly William) here. I’m sorry for breaking the narrative but I’d like the reader to keep those words in mind. That my mother really believed in them was the epitome of a saying about how to pave a certain road.
Victoria loved when a family member claimed religious beliefs (no, she didn’t), especially someone so hypocritical as the woman before her. Mrs. Wallenstein was more concerned about declaring her daughter mentally incapable than helping her heal. So she discreetly sucked on her teeth and withdrew.
“I understand, Mrs. Wallenstein. We’ll do our best to help Catherine.”
“You better,” the woman replied haughtily. “I’m not paying you to lead my daughter to sin, Doctor. Farewell.”
The door closed, and Victoria Coleman nodded but couldn’t smile. Indeed Mrs. Wallenstein wasn’t paying a dime.
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At Catherine’s request, they added piano and ballet lessons to their weekly schedule. Cat needed to get a basic proficiency on those two skills if they wanted to keep their mother from discarding them in the loony bin. As much as it hurt both of them, they feared Mrs. Wallenstein’s recovery was a hoax. An elaborate one, as both mother and daughter attended religiously the virtual meetings of the AA women’s group, despite the girl being under the legal age of drinking. None of the women in the group minded it, and some of them even praised her for being there to support her mother.
The controversial treasure trove of “perdition tools” as Mrs. Wallenstein dubbed them remained unused. She couldn’t find the mood.
Two weeks later, Agatha obtained the Employer registration with the IRS. She came to the mansion with the papers, bringing along with a New Jersey notary official to incorporate the Wallenstein Foundation. Livestreamed on social media and under the scrutiny of more than a hundred thousand viewers, the charter was signed and the Foundation board invested in their positions, with Mrs. Wallenstein as the foundation chairwoman. Once the notary publicly recognized the foundation by issuing a Business Registration Certificate, Catherine steps forward to become the first donor. Cat wrote the giant check giving away all the settlement money she gained from the sexual assault case once it was officially confirmed to be tax-deductible. They didn’t hope to gather cookie points with the Heavens by making a public donation. It was business as usual.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The website went live and was immediately DDOS’d by hackers using Chinese IP addresses. If they were actually Chinese, it was anyone’s guess. After a goofy improvised skit where Cat and Agatha fumbled for the phone, the hosting provider fixed the issue, and the site spiked in traffic, promoting a crowdfunding campaign to raise awareness and actual funds. Dr. Esther Hill accepted the first grant from the foundation on behalf of the NGO that helped Catherine while she was in a coma.
The notary left with the paperwork, and Cat sat with her mother and Agatha to answer questions from viewers. It was a ploy to keep the Livestream going and try to go viral. The viewer count had spiked during the donation ceremony but it kept a steady six digits. Agatha was all smiles, signaling it was beyond her expectations. With the lawyer's help, they ignored the probing questions from the media that sneaked into the Livestream to try and turn it into an interview and answered those that came from real fans.
With the Foundation established as a private corporate charity, Mrs. Wallenstein was finally ready to go live on national TV.
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Because the show producers’ insistently requested Cat came along but wouldn’t appear on camera. Catherine nonetheless insisted they came properly dressed, coordinating with their mother but in a slightly more modest outfit. She also demanded they used the studio makeup artist to prepare them as if they would go on camera.
The live show started and the host took the stage.
“Greetings, America! I bet all of you heard the name ‘Wallenstein’ being thrown around. Here in New York, it’s what everybody is talking about! The tale of a brave and resilient girl that survived the worst the world threw at her and still had the guts to stand up and do her best to help others in the same situation as her! Today we brought her mother, Mrs. Wallenstein to introduce the Wallenstein Foundation. The institution is less than a week old but has already granted over four million dollars to other charity organizations focused on women’s health and victim support!”
The studio audience cheered. Standing next to Cat’s side, Mrs. Wallenstein couldn’t wait to go on stage and bask in the spotlight.
“We also have a mystery guest that insisted to come here and meet Mrs. Wallenstein on live television! What surprises does this guest bring with them? Don’t miss it! And now, here she is. Mrs. Wallenstein!”
Watching from backstage, Cat was surprised her mother was called as the first guest. Everyone knew the first guest of such shows was the least important one. She also wondered who would be this mysterious guest but she’d find out anyway in a few minutes. Her mother went on stage as if she was about to receive an Academy Award. Smiling, waving, and with glistening crystal moist eyes that never teared up because she wouldn’t dare ruin her makeup. She sat on the couch and talked with the host about a lot of things, mostly surrounding Catherine’s ordeal and the foundation.
The interview died down, and the host let it without calling it off. It was clearly a ploy to increase shock as they called the mystery guest. Cat glanced at the other side of the stage when Catherine screamed in terror.
Trapped! That’s how Cat felt as she recognized whom the specter was screaming about. There was exactly one creature that triggered that reaction on her.
“And here he is, our mystery guest, Mr. Roger Marthan!” The host announced and the black-clad lawyer turned religious leader that was actually a demon in disguise entered the stage.
Cat had to avert her eyes to keep her sanity. Catherine would see the demon for what it was if she looked at him. Instead, she focused on a TV monitor tuned to the live feed. The camera picked Mr. Marthan and Catherine screamed again.
Without any other recourse, Cat decided to look at a particularly interesting knot on the MDF board before her. The interview went on but she didn’t pick the details. Mr. Marthan proved to be every bit as charismatic as you’d expect from a lying conniving demon.
“Well, you see, Emilia,” the demon answered a question about the controversial (an oxymoron, as it was a demon speaking) plea bargain, “I firmly believe that everyone should be punished for their sins. I did defend my client by getting him the least punishment possible. I have no doubt that he would be sentenced to the full twenty-five years if he went to trial. Miss Wallenstein was assaulted by him, while helpless nonetheless. I did what I felt was both right and the best for my client.”
“What about his involvement with the terrorist attack on the George Washington Bridge?”
“I’m sorry, but I no longer represent him. I also don’t talk about open cases. So," the demon clapped his hands, "enough about him. We’re here to talk about helping the victims, not punishing the guilty. I find it laudable that Mrs. Wallenstein has started a foundation on her daughter’s and every other girl that survived such a heinous crime. These sinners really deserve to burn in hell.”
The demon's words burned Cat's ears, raising in volume to unbearable levels as if he was shouting right next to her. She wanted to run away but found that her legs didn't answer her commands. They talked a while more about the charity, about helping the victims, and what the viewer could do to stop such crimes from happening.
“And now you created a religion! What prompted you to switch careers?”
“After the last case, I did some soul searching, on Miss Wallenstein’s behalf, and decided criminal law was not for me. That’s why I decided to help people in my own way.”
The girl's head spun. She was getting sick. Catherine started to scream in their mind even without looking at the demon. Some nefarious magic was at work. Around her, everyone went on their way unaware of what was happening.
“And your church has a very controversial name. What is it?”
Roger Marthan laughed, “Yes, I can see why people would think that. It’s all in the name, right? The Church of the Theoretical Satanist has a catchy name but our purpose is the same as every other church. To help people find the salvation they deserve. And let me tell you the first dogma of our church. The practice of Satanism is strictly forbidden!”
Cat felt bile rise in her throat. Was it the demon's subtle influence, weaving magic into his words? Was her the only one that could feel its nefarious influence?
“But why ‘Theoretical Satanist?”
“If there’s something I disgusted by more than sinners, Emilia, is ignorance. I see churchgoing people damning their souls every single day because they don’t know right from wrong. That’s not why Adam ate the forbidden fruit or Prometehus shared the divine fire with humanity. Mankind must understand what leads to Hell and what doesn’t. Therefore, to understand Hell is to understand what can keep one away from Hell. That’s why one of our military’s precepts is exactly ‘Know thy Enemy’. People must understand and demystify Hell. I look upon this Earth and I see benighted people that sin without the knowledge they’re sinning. That’s bad because they lack the understanding of what they’re doing,” the demon replied.
And of course, Cat conjectured, if people knowingly sinned, their value to hell increased. That was the only reason she could think of why the demon was doing that. She’d later learn that the demon thought people stupid, with reason. If they thought they knew how far they could go without damning themselves, they would be more inclined to tip their toes in the waters, metaphorically speaking. After all, people that avoided ever lighting a stove suffered fewer burns from the appliance. Overconfidence was what he wanted to instill in people.
She didn’t hear the honeyed words the demon spewed, as Catherine kept urging them to run away.
Finally, the ambush interview came to a close.
“I heard you have a surprise for Mrs. Wallenstein,” the host cued him in.
“Yes! The Church of the Theoretical Satanist is proud to pledge, over the next year, twelve million dollars in donations to the Wallenstein Foundation! A million dollars each month, starting now!”
Two scantily-clad models walked on stage carrying a giant check for a million dollars and handed it over to the demon and Mrs. Walenstein.
“We’re also throwing a fundraiser party at Times Square on the Foundation's behalf,” the demon said.
Cat glanced at her mother, smiling next to the demon, her genitor's face a rictus of Pride and Greed. She saw a flash of the creature’s true form, became sick, and threw up.
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[1]: Child Protection Services