Information

Athazagoraphobiac
Legacy Name: Athazagoraphobiac

The Bloodred Kora
Owner: Kirabelle

Age: 12 years, 1 month, 4 days

Born: March 27th, 2012

Adopted: 12 years, 1 month, 4 days ago

Adopted: March 27th, 2012

Statistics

• Level: 9
   
• Strength: 16
   
• Defense: 19
   
• Speed: 11
   
• Health: 28
   
• HP: 22/28
   
• Intelligence: 3
   
• Books Read: 3
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Store Clerk

{ωєℓ¢σмє тσ ѕανισя ρѕу¢нιαтяι¢ нσѕριтαℓ}

"Gallicolumba."

"Yes, sir?" A woman's hazel eyes rose to a familiar guest from the stack of papers scattered upon her desk. Amid the mess was an idle computer screen to the left, a classic mug of writing utensils to the right, and a picture frame that held the image of a young girl besides it. "Is there a problem?" Her voice held great concern as she adjusted her thin spectacles, pushing them up to the bridge of her nose to assure him he had her full attention.

"No, in fact, I have the opposite set of news. I have an idea and I would like to run it past you. That way, we can both start off on the same page." He paused, glancing at the clock on the wall. What he had to say would take much longer to explain than the limited amount of time they had before both of their shifts were over. Running a finger through his dark blond hair, he turned back to the woman. "Would you prefer we speak about this over dinner? It's quite important and I need your help. Why don't we meet at my apartment? You can bring Calathea along as well. I'd hate to see the kid eat all by herself. She's growing up, isn't she? Let's say...8:30?"

A moment of silence ensued and the man smirked, "Is that okay, Cissandra?" He asked again.

"O-oh! O-of course." A flush of pink washed over the woman's cheeks. Accidentally, she had occupied herself in staring into his olive shaded eyes. She had known Trinnean for several years now, but this event never ceased to occur. Cissandra glanced to the picture aside her and pursed her lips. "Yes. She is growing older by the day," she spoke matter-of-factly. "I regret to admit, I wish I didn't neglect her as much as I do. Hopefully this'll make up for a little bit, right?" Turning back to face Trinnean, her eyes pleaded for his assurance. "We haven't had dinner together in quite a while..."

"I'm sure she knows her mother cares about her."

"I hope so..."

"Don't worry about it, okay? You're doing the best you can as a single mother. You can always ask for my help as well, you know that."

His offer had stood for two years now, ever since Mr. Galicolm had died. His death was due to depression; he had taken his own life. The situation had been traumatic for the family, and Trinnean stood by their side the entire time, having been good friends with her near the end of their college life. Mrs. Galicolm had felt like she failed in aiding toward his recovery, but Trinnean made sure she knew it was not her fault, and that some situations ended badly regardless of what was done. "...Yes.." A soft smile crossed her features. "8:30 then. If I might ask, what is it we're going to discuss?"

Trinnean had turned to face the door of her office, readying himself to leave. "What would be the fun in telling you that?" He turned back to shrug and chuckle. "I'm kidding. I feel I've discovered a cure for any mental illness we may encounter. Don't get your hopes up, it still requires tweaking but I know if I've got your brain on my side, we'll be able to trump what we've never been able to before." The man's voice was confident and sure, and his words impacted the woman by the look of surprise on her face. He spoke no more, however, and opened the door, briskly walking into the hallway before she could fully react.

Cissandra rose from her desk, considering following after him for more answers, but instead seated herself and let the words sink in. A revelation and even a complement. She laughed silently then resumed her work. Merely seconds later could she find she was too excited to even think about working. It was no matter, in ten minutes her shift would end and she would then be on her way to discover what Trinnean's words truly meant. Then together, they would create a revolutionized version of treating serious mental illnesses: Extraction.

{тωσ уєαяѕ ℓαтєя}

Date: 04/07/25
Name: Fairlee Snowden
Age: 21
Race: Caucasian
Height: 5'3
Weight: 120 lbs
Doctor: Jay Lloyd
Diagnosis: Athazagoraphobia
Treatment: 0.25mg Xanax, One hour four days a week psychotherapy
Additional Notes: Refusing verbal communication and medication. No improvement noted. Self bodily harm visible.

His writing suddenly stopped and he flipped the written page over to the next on his clipboard. "Okay." The silence that filled the room was suddenly broken by Jay Lloyd's husky voice. "We'll pick this up Thursday at 4:00 p.m. Will you sign this for me?" He handed his silent patient the clipboard, holding out a blue-inked pen. Reluctantly, she grasped the pen and wrote sloppily the signature "Fairlee Snowden". The girl laid the clipboard and pen on the coffee table that separated the two. Then, silently, she stood up and left the room. As the sound of the door closing rung sharply, the man sighed deeply. "God. How long is she going to keep that up?"

Fairlee Snowden had a serious case of Athazagoraphobia, the fear of being alone. It was unknown when this fear developed but was assumed some time in high school by her parents. Speaking of her parents, they would be meeting Friday to discuss what should be done with her. She refused to speak with Jay, all four months of her starting the program. Medication was impossible. The first dosage had to be taken by holding her down and forcing her to swallow the pill. He was running out of options. The way she was going now, he'd have to recommend her to Savior. Her arms and neck were covered in scratches and cuts, definitely not the kind to simply be an accident.

Dr. Lloyd rummaged through his pant pocket, remaining seated in his pastel yellow cushioned chair. Managing to pull out his phone, he observed the time before dialing a number he called often enough to memorize. He liked to believe he was old-fashioned in that sense. It was rare people ever knew a phone number besides their own, and even that was considered uncommon. He placed the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing of the other line. In a matter of seconds, another picked up the phone and answered casually, "Jay, I was just about to phone and ask how that new patient of yours was doing. She's a burn victim, right? Pretty traumatic."

"Yes. She's doing fine. I like it when people cooperate. On the other hand, some people are still not doing even that." His voice hinted annoyance but held it's composure. It wasn't professional if you let your emotions get in the way of your work.

"Still? That one's the Athazagoraphobiac, right? She's still refusing treatment? You'd think she'd actually comply after this long. Poor girl found in her own apartment bawling her eyes out. Her parents found her like that, right? And they were the reason she was placed in therapy?" The other sounded rather happy despite the current situation.

"You ask too many questions you already know the answer to. You've talked to her parents, and you know that they considered extraction but wanted an easier route. And, well, I think it's time we abandon the alternative. She needs to be sent to Savior before she hurts herself terribly. Nathaniel, she has wounds on every inch of her arm. She won't take the medication and her parents aren't exactly forcing her to either."

"Are you sure you're not just being impatient?" That was one of Jay Lloyd's downfalls. He was too impatient. If there was an easier way to take care of things, he'd do it. In all honesty, he had no idea why this man decided to become a psychiatrist. It didn't match the man's personality at all. "That sort of thing takes time. You could perfectly as well transfer her to a different doctor you know. There are plenty that would be willing to help her."

Anger now seeped through the phone line. "Impatient? I've taken offense. I've done all I could for her. You can't treat someone that doesn't want to be treated. Deny me if you want, I'll just speak with Trinnean myself. The way this is going isn't going to end well if I just let it be. Doing something for her benefit is better than nothing at all." He grunted. "I thought you asking him would be better than me."

"Now you're just acting childish. Because I'm his brother doesn't mean he's going to offer me any more lenience than he would you." Nathaniel found it difficult to believe he had done all he possibly could. But he was right. Letting the situation go could only make it worse. Before he would speak with Trinnean though, he had to make sure the patient's parents were willing to go the extra mile for her recovery. While the patient was old enough to deny it herself, her option seemed to only lead to death. And that option was out of the question. "Fine. I'll speak with him after you speak with her parents. We need their consent before we say anything. As a matter of fact, I would like to speak with them myself. Set up an appointment for the same day as yours. I will meet with them afterwards. Now, I apologize but I better get back to work." Due to the sudden foul mood, Nathaniel hung up before Jay had a moment to object.

Outside of work Nathaniel and Jay were fairly good friends. In the office, however, their views differed. Nathaniel preferred to take a situation slowly and deal with it's problems one by one. Jay wanted to fix the problem as soon as he could so that all of the situations occupants could go about their daily business the very next day. But the latter was a more ineffective way of working. This difference often led to arguments between the two. While Nathaniel worked in the Savior Hospital with his older brother, Trinnean, Jay worked at his own office near the hospital. Only if the situation was dire would Jay recommend a patient to the hospital. This fact was the only reason Nathaniel complied.

~

The end of the week soon arrived. Niven and Odelia Snowden found themselves seated comfortably inside Dr. Lloyd's office.

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