A Tiny Little Dot

NINE YEARS BEFORE THE EVENT

"Come on, Virginia," Sheryl, my guardian, says. She grabs my hand and leads me into the Campus Clinic of Pine Rest to see my new therapist.

As we enter the building, I observe the room. Everything is neutral colors. The walls are a creamy brown and the carpet is shades of brunette. There are couches all around with people sitting in them. I look over to my left. There is a man sitting in a chair. He is rocking back and forth and mumbling to himself. He scratches his cheek and looks at me. I gasp and hang close to Sheryl. "I'm scared," my seven-year-old self says quietly.

"There's nothing to be scared of. You're just going to talk to this nice lady." We walk up to the front desk. "Virginia for Dr. Pam White, please."

"But why?" I whine, kicking my feet.

"You're just going to talk about a lot of things..." Sheryl trails off. She doesn't want to say any more in case I get upset like the other day.

TWO DAYS EARLIER

"Sheryl! No!" I scream as I pull away from my guardian.

"Come on," Sheryl pleads. "You need to go to bed!"

"But I don't wanna!" I cry. I throw myself on the laminent flooring and smash into the bookcase next to me. Tears run down my ruby red face and I shout as I thrash my fists on the ground. "Why do you do this to me?"

"I'm not doing anything to you, sweet heart." She has a pleading look on her face. "It's just time for bed. All little boys and girls have to go to bed early just like you," Sheryl says in sweet, motherly voice.

I stop wailing and look her dead in the eye. "I'm going to tell the CPS lady that you're being mean to me and then she'll take me away and give me back to my mommy!" I wag my finger and give her a threatening look.

Sheryl has had enough. She grunts as she tries to pick me up but I just start crying even louder. She then tries pulling me across the ground but that just makes it even worse. She falls back on her butt and in a huff. I stand up and walk over to her. I push her as hard as I possibly can. "No!" I scream again. I then run to the bathroom and lock myself in.

After a few minutes, I hear Sheryl at the door. She knocks. "Virginia? Can I come in?"

"No!" I yell. I rest my head on my knees. I'm curled up in the corner of the bathroom. The bright light bouncing off the green walls hurts my tearing, red eyes.

I hear Sheryl sigh and what sounds like her sitting on the ground. "Look, Virginia, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to be taken from your mommy and given to me. Your mother is very sick right now and once she's better, you'll be taken back to her. But for now, you're with me. You can continue to be mad and throw temper tantrums or you can be nice to me. I would like it if you were nice to me. I don't think you're having much fun acting like this."

There is silence while I ponder her speech. I then stand up and stride to the door. I open it. "I guess I could be nice."

"Good! I'm glad!" Sheryl says, pulling me in for a hug.

I sit down on a blue couch next to Sheryl in one of the many waiting rooms. I stare up at the skylight. It's plastic and keeps making a cracking noise beneath the bright sunshine. I squint my eyes as I start to see spots. I look around. There is a woman with dark brunette hair pulled back into ponytail reading a book in a brown chair a few feet from me. She is in blue scrubs. She must be a nurse.

As I wait, I grow restless. I try not to get upset because I know Sheryl will be mad. She just reads the People magazine in her hands. I have nothing to do but sit here and wait. I watch as the nurse is called in to her appointment by a short, thick man with thinning gray hair wearing charcoal gray pants and an heather gray polo with little pink designs on it.

"You must be Virginia," a tall, thin lady with pale skin and short, fiery orange hair says, bending down to my eye level. She is wearing an ankle-length green corduroy skirt with a white sweater with small matching green flowers on them. On her feet are brown clogs with black socks. She dresses much like my teacher, Mrs. Rugg.

"Yes," I say grumpily.

"Well, I'm Dr. Pam. I'm going to be talking with you today. Is that alright?"
I look from Dr. Pam to Sheryl and then back. "I guess." I stand up and follow Dr. Pam into her office. The walls are an espresso color and the carpet is tawny. There are two gray chairs with a table in the left corner closest to the door. Dr. Pam's desk resides in the far right corner of the room. A bookshelf with board games, toys and self-help books is over in the far left corner. There are drawings from other patients hanging on the walls and door. Dr. Pam's desk if full of bright orange files and small motivational posters.

Dr. Pam sits in her office chair and I sit in a comfy chair. "Now, Virginia, we're here to talk about your temper trantrums." She puts quotation marks around "temper tantrums."

"What about them?" I ask, completely oblivious.

"Well, can you think of anything that started them?" Dr. Pam folds her hands and places them in her lap.

I look around the room and then down at the carpet with a blank look on my face, thinking. I memorize the colors and patterns. I then look back at my therapist. "When I went to live with Sheryl."

Dr. Pam nods. "Okay. What do you feel when you start one of these temper tantrums?" Little did I know that this question and the answer would be the beginning of my long career of therapy, medications and a life of depression.

I hear what the counselor is saying but I'm not really paying attention. I see something fly over to my right. I look over. A tiny little dot is suspended in the air. It's almost too small to see, but I stare at it intently, confused and in awe. I then answer the question, still focused on this strange little black fleck. "I feel mad and sad. I feel like I want to hurt someone. I want to smash everyone in the world!" I slam my fist into my hand. I then look back at my therapist with dark eyes. "I want to destroy them all."