S. Brook Counseling & Therapy Clinic

September 10th X288

So that’s what happened. Dr. Ronaldo rubbed his forehead.

“Yes.” Florian paused. “But the real reason I came to you was to tell you about something else.”

Dr. Ronaldo’s soul quivered its thorns. The dark urchin spirit was three feet tall, standing on its long, firm quills.

After all these years, Florian no longer feared the spirit; she cherished it. She had spoken with Dr. Ronaldo countless times, and she understood him maybe more than Ronaldo knew himself.

Without knowing of her actual struggles, Dr. Ronaldo had supported her all these years. He was one of the very few people Florian considered a true friend.

“There are a few things that don’t make sense.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure Mayor Banquet accused you of those things? Did he say he suspected you?”

“Well, not really. The mayor heavily implied it. I could tell just by looking, and his attitude was extremely egotistical. It was suffocating.”

“I understand you were nervous. Could the reason be that you were scared of him?”

“No! I’m not scared of him!”

“Then why are you so frustrated?”

She paused for a moment. “He was mocking Sergeant Nowell and me. Mayor Banquet was treating our efforts like they were utterly meaningless. I even got the feeling that he didn’t even care for his daughter’s safety.”

Dr. Ronaldo took a deep breath. “You’re overthinking it again.”

Florian worried Dr. Ronaldo wasn’t taking her seriously. The dark urchin’s spines loosened and wiggled; it had to be on point, not sluggish. She needed him to be engaged.

“I’m not overthinking it.” Florian set down her backpack and pulled out dozens of her old journals. “Here.” She handed the first journal to Ronaldo. “Do you remember these?”

“These are your journals from way back. Your drawings were always so interesting. Why are there so many?”

“I never stopped.”

“There’s like fifty notebooks.”

“Fifty-four, covering three years.”

“This covers only three years? What have you been writing about?” Ronaldo opened the first binder.

It had unorganized drawings, notes, tables, and data. The other notebooks were labeled daily records, observations, and tests, each with corresponding dates.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy. I may need to make a key for some of the abbreviations I used.”

“What is all this?”

Florian stood up and looked Dr. Ronaldo in the eyes. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“Please listen to me until the end. I’ve drafted many ways to tell you this. I planned on telling you sooner, but I kept pushing it back as things kept resolving themselves. But now, I fear for not only my life but my loved ones too.”

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Dr. Ronaldo got a serious look on his face. “All these years, I knew you weren’t telling me something. . . Deep down, I thought my therapeutic practices were not helping. I felt like I didn’t earn your trust. Not enough for you to be comfortable to tell me. Now, after seven years, I’ll listen like I always have and forever will.”

Florian mustered up her remaining courage. “I see things no one else sees. These things are manifestations of one’s entire being. With this information, I can partially read thoughts and actions before they happen. I can understand individuals to a certain degree without them saying a word or even using sign language.”

Dr. Ronaldo seemed like he didn’t fully understand.

“I can see an individual’s soul.”

“Soul? Like a ghost?”

“Actually. . . I don’t know what they are. All I know is each person has one, and it’s connected to their mind and body.”

“Are you serious?”

“Each one is unique. Many have animal features. They are like a physical representation of a person’s state of mind. The actions and appearance of people’s souls provide me with information that is difficult to explain. After living with them for years, I guess I’m used to them now.”

“Okay . . . where do I begin? I’m not surprised you prepared all these books to help convince me this is real. Nevertheless, I still have so many questions.”

“It’s right in front of you. Seven years of evidence and notes of my discoveries. I broke down the mechanics to the best of my ability in these journals.”

Ronaldo skimmed through a few entries. Inside were detailed encounters dating back to when Florian first met Sergeant Nowell and Dr. Ronaldo. He was calm and collected as he analyzed the strange concept put in front of him.

“So that’s why Honest felt something was off about you. I should apologize to him.”

“You believe me?” Florian was surprised.

“Of course I do. You had something like a sixth sense when it came to understanding others. You always had an altruistic nature that drove you to care about others before yourself. For some reason, you always went above and beyond even when it involved total strangers. Besides, the sheer amount of detail is astonishing.” Dr. Ronaldo held up the drawings. “Are these what the souls look like?”

“Yes. Sergeant Honest’s soul was scary at first, but as I got to know him, I learned he was grieving for someone.”

“I see. I can’t disclose Honest’s personal information, but if you ask him, I’m sure he’ll have no problem telling you. Will you tell me about Miss Fumblehouse’s soul?”

“Hers is a turtle. It’s like she’s scared all the time. She hides from everyone. She’s tough to convince once she sets her mind on something. For some reason, her soul is always in the place of the plush she carries around. It gives the turtle a plush-like appearance; there could be something significant about it.”

“Impossible. Has Miss Fumblehouse told you anything about her past?”

“No. I never asked.”

Dr. Ronaldo adjusted his glasses. “One day she’ll tell you herself. She sees you like family.”

Florian blushed slightly. She felt a huge weight disappear as she shared her secret. The dark urchin released threads that interweaved through Florian’s journals, exactly what Florian wanted.

Dr. Ronaldo’s voice cracked slightly. “What does mine look like?”

“I don’t think telling you now is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Just a gut feeling.” Florian was a little scared that Ronaldo’s soul was quivering like never before.

“I understand, maybe some other time. I’m excited. This ability of yours is truly a gift. It could change the world of psychology forever. Have you considered becoming a psychologist?” he asked. “Like how Dr. Steinsbrook took me in as his apprentice. I could teach you as my protégé.”

“I-I’ll think about it.” Studying under someone she could trust didn’t sound bad to Florian. “I do want to help others. Like the way you do. I don’t know yet.”

“That’s good enough for me, as long as it’s something you like to do. You do that,” he said. “Say, what does your soul look like?”

“ I. . . I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean you don’t have one?”

Florian’s voice trembled. “No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find mine. I searched and I searched, but after all these years, it hasn’t shown itself. Everyone has a soul, except me. At some points, I wondered if I was even alive.” Tears rolled down her face. “I can see all of these souls at the cost of my own. Is that it? I’m jealous, all right. I’m so envious that I firmly believe I don’t deserve a soul.”

“That. Right there. That was floating in your head all this time?”

“Yeah. . .”

“I was worried why your depression persisted after all my efforts. I couldn’t figure it out for seven years. I’m so glad you told me.” Dr. Ronaldo started to weep as well. “Listen, you are alive, and you have a soul. I don’t know why you can’t see your own when you can see everyone else’s, but listen here! I will work with you to find your soul, no matter what it takes! You got it!”

“Really?” Florian couldn’t open her eyes from all the tears.

“Yes, like it or not, from today onward, we are partners.”