An appointment? Bah! (Dr Sentino)

[Rebecca Davenforth]

Rebecca had been here for nearly four weeks now, and she'd hated every second of it. It was a hundred times worse than what her father had done, at least he'd treated her like a person, even if he had acted as though she was a second class citizen. Here, she wasn't even that. She wasn't human in the eyes of the staff, and she was certain of it. Why else would they forbid her from doing such dangerous things as wearing clothes? They obviously didn't want her to get better, whatever they might say, or they wouldn't be doing this to her. Chances were her dad was paying them to keep her here though, at least that was her assumption, but so far, she hadn't hit anyont. Much. Not enough to leave a mark at least. She'd had a handful of disciplinary issues, but nothing like as many as her restriction level might suggest.

Today, she was hoping to get something done about that. Her doctor had sent a note (She was a little surprised they trusted her with paper, given that the other draconian limits placed on her life here) telling her to drop in any time she wanted to, and what better time was there than this? So far today she hadn't got into any trouble, She hadn't broken any rules, and she was bored out of her mind. Of course, the last part had been true ever since her arrival here. All she wanted to do was go home, back to England, back to her uncle, and their racing team. Was that really so much to ask? Probably, but maybe, if she didn't punch the doctor's light out, she could at least get them to let her wear actual clothes. Scrubs were beyond a joke.

Resisting the urge to make inappropriate comments to the ever present staff, orderlies or something she assumed, likely paedophiles given the amount of time they seemed to spend watching her and the younger girls, she made her way along to the doctor's office. Normally, she'd rather gargle razor blades than talk to someone like the woman she was going to see, but something had to change. if she didn't get some freedom, and some clothes, she was going to really go crazy. A month bored out of her mind should have been enough, right? She hadn't killed anyone, or herself, they HAD to relax the restrictions!

After knocking at the door, she opened it and stepped inside, not wanting to wait around. the quicker she gout out of these hideous green scrubs and back into jeans, the better. "Hey, you said to come by any time, so, here I am." she said, her usual scowl in place as she made her way towards the desk, sitting down on whatever seating was available, not waiting for invitations. "It's been a month, can I get some fu- some clothes yet?" she continued, managing to cut herself off just before she swore. Talking the way she usually did was probably a bad idea at a time like this. Playing nice was harder than she'd expected.

[Dr. Jocelyn Sentino]

Jocelyn dropped her head. She was tired. Tired, exhausted... in despirate need of a vacation. Alas... the Vacation wasn't in the plan yet. Is it ever? Overworked, understaffed, overly crowded, you name it, they've got it. Quite a depressing factor that tends to get to eveyrone at one point or another. It was easy to understand that many of the staff often ended up apathetic and at times even less then pleasant, to put it nicely. She could understand the staff so well.... unfortunately. Yet, unlike many of those who tend to give up, Jocelyn was determined not to. Planing on doing everything in her power to keep her self from becoming one of those. She prided herself on being able to do her best to help the patients, and actually carying....

"I have got to figure this out...."Jocelyn cringed her nose slightly as she stretched, pulling away from teh computer. She had been typing up papers and reports that whole entire morning...afternoon... what ever it was... lost track of time too.... it was kinda rediculous. But, work demanded that, and like it or not, Jocelyn was putting up with it. Some research proved helpful too. Why did she ever agree to take on any new patients? Especially difficult ones? But... in any case, she was determined to make it successfull. Get through the mental and phisical barriers... and prove, that someone can trust another. Even if only a little...but that trust can be there. She belived that realizing that was a first step in the healing processes. The only problem was getting there. Some took longer, while others only a couple of days. Some of her new patients proved to be ones of the longer end.... Joooy..... But, at least if nothing else, she will not give up on them. That is for sure.

With a cuss word under her breath she rechurned to typing, when she heard teh knock on the door. Before she could say come in, a young girl strode in, scowling, heading streight for the couch, and sitting down. Jocelyn raised one of her eyebrows as she glanced the girl over, as the other spoke. She didn't cuss. Good....now which one was she.

Good afternoon. A pleasure seeing you in my office. Now what can I do for you, Ms...?Jocelyn paused, her tone calm and steady, allowing the other to introduce herself. Regain teh control of hte situation, and stir it in teh diraction she needed. Sometimes the hardest thing to do, when you hardly looked intimidating. Well... at least not like some big, mean, grumpy doctors here. Yet, she managed.

[Rebecca Davenforth]

Rebecca honestly wasn't surprised at the doctor's reaction to her arrival. There was no way the doctor had too many patients to remember, and an equally small chance she had any other British teenage girls on her books, but the chances of a doctor actually giving a shit about a patient? Pigs wouldn't just fly, they'd land on mars before that happened. All she wanted was her clothes back though, uf she could get that, somehow, she might just about be able to stay sane long enough to get a phonecall out to the British embassy, or even to her uncle, anything to get her out of this place, out of this country, and back where she belonged.

"Becca Davenforth." she replied, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of her voice. At least her accent came through clear though, southern England, Sussex to be precise, not that she expected anyone here to recognise that. She'd be surprised if they even managed the right continent, given what she'd seen of the patients and staff here so far. "You sent a note. I'd have brought it with me, but your goons would probably think I was gonna try and pull some stupid stunt with it." she continued, giving a shrug. "You are my doctor, right?" she added, the scowl deepening for just a moment.

"As for what you can do," she began, leaning back on the couch and stretching her arms out either side, "I want to get my clothes back. I've been here a month, I haven't started a fight," she'd been in scuffles, sure, but she hadn't started them, nor done much more than trade bruises before the staff showed up. "I don't need to be in high security. I'm sane, more or less." she added, somewhat optimistically. Odds of this doctor actually listening were...slim to say the least, but hey, she was trying, she was even staying civil! Idly, she wondered if her father was paying these people extra to keep her in with the people who could barely stop drooling on themselves long enough to think; it wouldn't be a surprise at all, and was just more reason she needed to get some kind of communication out.

[Dr. Jocelyn Sentino]

Jocelyn smiled, nodding a bit as the young woman introduced herself. It was evident that the patient before her, was frustrated, and rather anoyed, though, at the least, she was making an effort. Now, about the file.... Glancing away for a moment, she pulled up the file, glancing over it, reall quick to refresh her memory. Clothing.... ehhhh, it was a slippery question. She was a high risk, and those were... iffy... perhaps they could start with something small... as a good-will gesture. Depending on how this meeting will go.


"Pleasure to finally meet you Ms. Davenforth, I'm Dr. Sentino. As for the goons, it's their job. Some tend to take it a bit far.... I hope that you are not hurt. Jocelyn smiled slightly, though her tone was still calm. Is that an English accent? South England if I am right? Her smile widened ever so slightly. The memory, took some digging around within the confines of her memory. Thank you tutors though... if nothing else, they taugh her history and geography, quite well. Science and other stuff good too, but that's beyond the point.

Well... I don't know about other doctors, but if you are sane, then I have no intention of keeping you here. After all, we are here to help those who need it, not make sane people insane. How ever, I would ask for a few sessions, just to determine that you are infact sane, and do not require help. Jocelyn paused, leaning forward on the desk a bit, as she clasped her hands, resting her arms on the wooden surface, carefully observing the young woman beofre her. They named people High risks for a reason. And most of hte times, the reasons could not be taken lightely. Although, it was not unheard of the patients going down in rank, if they earn it.

As for the issue of clothing... We usually keep patients within certain limits for a reason. How ever... if you are up for it... we can try to have a trial run. Perhaps start with a t-shirt, of some pastel colors, no writings or inapropriate pictures, but something to give you some variety. However, should you get into any trouble, or try anything that would be less then sattisfactory, you'd loose that privalage. How does that sound? The doctor asked, as she offered. It was a half way point. Self harming, could happen reguardless of what you dress the patient in, they had plenty of those examples. Scrubs were given for reasons. So...perhaps a shirt, of same texture and similar colors could be a good start. If she could prove herself, that she is trying to control herself, and that she will not be going against any regulations or doing anyting improper. Yet, should she go against it, any privilage would be revoked, and she would have to work to earn her trust.

[Rebecca Davenforth]

"It's their job to take far too much interest in teenage girls. yeah, I got that part." Becca replied with another shrug as the doctor spoke. This was still going about as well as she'd expected it to, much longer and she'd be drooling with the best of them after this quack shot her up with god knows what. Thorazine maybe? Followed by a nice session of electric shocks? It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest. These people were determined to wreck what remained of her life. "Yeah. Angmering. that's where I should be now, not here. I guess my father hasn't finished destroying my life though." she added, working ont he assumption the woman had read her file. It was a pretty big leap of faith to think that, but she had to have at least glanced at it before she sent the note, right?

"Meaning, you're gonna keep me here for what, six months, a year maybe? keep me out of another season, drive away any hope I have of ever racing professionally again, right?" she asked, frustration rising in her voice, her fists balling as she tried her best to maintain control. Not an easy thing to do, and not something she'd ever bothered with before. This so called doctor didn't care about her, that much was blatantly obvious, but there was at least something in her words Becca could use; or at the very least, she could try to. Whatever happened, the teen was convinced she didn't deserve her rank in the slightest.

"That sounds like you're not listening to a word I say." she replied through gritted teeth. "You just said you don't try to make sane people go nuts, so why the fu- why can't I have my bloody clothes?" she continued, still managing to censor herself. "What, exactly, are the reasons you have for refusing to let me dress myself? You treat me like I'm subhuman, you offer me fucking pastels, and you try to claim that's a fucking choice? I want MY clothes. Racing shirts; band shirts; jeans, not fucking pastels and scrubs. What is the problem with a Team Lotus shirt, or a McClaren shirt, or a Team Aon one? Do I look like the sort of person who wears fucking pastels?" she continued, not seeming to realise she'd started swearing again. This was just hows he spoke when she wasn't struggling not to, she was still sat down, and though clearly getting angry, hadn't lashed out. Yet.

"I'm here because I wouldn't go with an arranged marriage, and you cunts are gonna treat me like a fucking psycho child. I want a phonecall to the British Embassy. I know they have a team to deal with this shit. I don't care how much he's paying you, I'm going home. You get me?" Her anger continued, but still she remained seated, and she believed everything she was saying. If she'd stayed with her father and played nice, odds were she'd have been proved right too. She hadn't given him the chance though, so it made perfect sense to her that this was the punishment he'd handed down. Worse than when she'd spent a week in her knickers, worse than when he'd brought her over to this country even. "I just want to go home and race. Explain to me Exactly how that makes me insane."