A horse is a horse

Section: The maniac doctor looking for weed.

Chapter: 1

Genre: Yaoi

Translator: Everianne

                    There was something weird in that all. When I was a teenager they used to let me get away with it, say I’m childish and I need to grow up to know some kind of stuff. But even now, while I’m physically and mentally mature, I keep returning to this place.

                    Why? I have no idea. I don’t know answers to a lot of questions: why I haven’t deleted phone number of my grandma who is dead for five years, haven’t been visiting her grave, why I isolate from my siblings, and finally – what pays my attention to that house, abandoned from ages.

                    I’m an atheist since I can remember. Existence of God, as well as reincarnation, hypnosis, clinical death, OBE and even soul didn’t sound believable to me.

                    Despite that, I feel a pleasant, warm aura coming out of this house. Maybe its surroundings isn’t delightful – never-ending thickets around, but it always reminded me of an oasis in the middle of the African jungle. It was giving me a chill every time I needed it the most. I’ve been running away from home and hiding there really often. Silence gave me the opportunity to think over a lot of problems.

                     I have never had any problems in my family. Things such as alcoholism, drug addiction, prostitution, pedophilia and others I knew only from the media. We haven’t had any financial problems. Why did I keep escaping then? That’s another question I cannot answer.

~~*~~

"If your life would be a a movie, then what genre would it be?" asked she with a screeching voice, staring at me from behind the glasses.

                    My parents came to a conclusion I should get rid of addiction of frequent visits in the abandoned house and changed my psychotherapist. I didn’t argue with them, I was rather an observer, learning many things about the human psyche. Sometimes it was even hilarious.

"A biographical one" I laughed. "It’d probably be a boring drama without any moral".

"Do you think your fate doesn’t give you lessons thanks to which you don’t learn on your own mistakes?" she asked. And again, I got the feeling she’s trying to act like being intelligent.

"I wonder which answer to choose: a) I don’t believe in fate, b) I learn from mistakes of others, c) I don’t make any mistakes".

"And everything’s clear!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "Your frequent visits in that house have surely something to do with egoism or nihilism!".

     I gave up.

" Goodbye."

... even though I was trying to be an optimist.

                   In spite of that all, I felt happy. I knew happiness is independent from material goods. My wealth ends on distorted worldview, loads of parents’ complaints, eternal idyll of 17-year-old life. Sometimes I had a feeling I should have some remorse while everyone around is telling me I’m collapsing. Anyway, I thought without evidences they can only go out of my area. They said my way of looking at this world would guide me to inevitable mental death. Because I was honest with myself? Maybe. Simply, I didn’t want to pray to God in worse moments, I didn’t demand impossible from myself, didn’t make unreachable goals. Well, I was convinced I live conciously and intelligently. However, other people thought of me in a negative way due to being morons. I was different, that’s why the psychotherapist had to make me dumb and filthy, like the rest. Sorry, Martin, you weren’t born idiot, now you have to suffer.

                   Besides parents and psychotherapist, teachers were also the ones who were trying to change my worldview. All because I wasn’t really acting educationally and I had unclever way of coming across problems, which always ended with negative grades. I was a bad student, and the guilty one was my independence. My motto was to tell my thoughts, not to tell what everyone wanted to hear. Teachers need to hear compliments. As a product of the photosynthesis they give off positive grades. Things just don’t disappear.

                    No matter what, I felt happy. At least to the moment my parents stated they decided to change a psychotherapist (who knows what time in a row). I was about to get used to that dinosaur and, to be honest, I didn’t mind her glitching me. Parents probably haven’t seen any changes in my behavior and that wasn’t obviously the best result for them, ‘cause they still wanted me to get rid of my sick views. They gave me this to understand right after I came back from the old, abandoned house. As if it was not enough, they made an appointment barely an hour after my comeback. His office was on the suburbs, so not even a minute passed when they gave me a piece of paper with how-to-get-there hints and threw me out of the house. Literally.

                    I have great sense of direction, that’s why I appeared in front of the building a moment before the planned hour. I decided to have a cup of coffee in the vending machine standing in the corridor. So I stood next to a stranger, who was adding some sugar to his own coffee, and patiently waited for my turn. He didn’t look like he was going to stop though. He was stirring it so phlegmatically, gosh! I thought I’d be dead. It was boring me slightly, so I spoke to him:

"Excuse me?"

                    He didn’t reply. Still was stirring his coffee. He probably didn’t even spot my presence.

"Excuse me, sir, I’d like to make myself a coffee" I stated, pushing him a bit to the right.

"Ah, sorry, sorry. I died for a while, but I’m completely alive now" he answered, giving me a meaningful look.

                    He was not so tall, brown-haired man, well, in principle his longish hair seemed to be a color of hot caramel, but I’m male, so I shouldn’t pay attention to such details. His skin color was pretty dark, his nose enriched with a few freckles. Eyes most likely in a dark green color, but I wasn’t quite sure. He looked like a cynical, well-educated person, but made an appearance of an idiot. I wonder if he was doing it conciously and purposely.

                  Forgetting about this weirdo I finally managed to make myself a Tchibo and drink it quickly, burning my throat by the way. I took a deep breath and looked at my watch. Only few minutes left to a certain death. I sat in a waiting room and celebrated the memory of my previous psychotherapists with a few-minute silence, enjoying the GTA V ad in TV at the same time. When these few minutes passed, I slowly got my butt up from the chair and came to the door. The doorplate telling "PSYCHOTHERAPIST dr Alexander Carter". I hesitated for a while, but my hand has already managed to open the door. I came in shyly and...

                     Oh, what a fucking shame. What else could I expect? Spontaneous, surprising actions have always happened to me (let’s say they were... random). Time to accept it and live with it!

                    I sat in front of him and gave him an annoyed look.

"Not too much sugar?" I asked ironically.

"Don’t be afraid, I’ve seen cuter boys before" he said.

                     I died! For the first time in my life I had completely no idea what to say. He surprised me from the beginning, shattering my corpse with dagger of his retort. This fucker.

"There’s written some bullshit in your files about some abandoned house. Admit you’ve found some marijuana plantation there."

"I’m during the searches, sir."

"How long have you been lurking there?"

"Since childhood, doctor. I was born with thc in blood."

"I understand. Something besides craving?"

"I’d eat a donut."

                    He smiled slightly. He found it funny I guess. When I saw him at the vending machine I thought he’s an idiot. Now, sitting hardly a meter away from him, I realized he’s super ultra total idiot. He gained exp in such a short time, what a talent.

"Lack of self-confidence..." he muttered faintly. "What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"My reflection."

"Are you good at physics?"

"Supposedly."

"Ok, so we’ve got the first problem over."

                    I started to wonder if the psychotherapist change was in fact that bad idea as I thought it’d be at the beginning. This man seemed really intriguing and I knew I must take advantage of it before my parents react. I could imagine it easily – after three meetings with Carter they come to a conclusion it doesn’t bring any improvements to my behavior and then state they found someone who is more suitable. No way. I couldn’t allow it to happen. I had to keep this dude by my side. Even if someone different had to cure me. There was only one way forward.

"Hey, Alex... smash me."