Book 2 Chapter 53 - When to Hold Your Tongue

Miss Asher is exhibiting signs of extreme emotional strain.
Student displays sudden and sharp shifts in mood and behavior.
Growing hostility for academy staff is progressing as predicted. 

Client anxiety continues to climb. Due to increased efforts
to mask emotional responses, I can only speculate.
But I believe client connection to recent events may have
inspired a previously absent sense of shame.
—Caleb Shepard, Violet Asher’s DAP Notes

“You seem agitated today, Miss Asher,” Shepard said. He rested his chin in one hand and leaned forward in his chair. Violet had her arms crossed and was looking toward the door, refusing to make eye contact. “Is there something on your mind?”

Violet scoffed. “That might be a bit of an understatement,” she answered. “But you could say that, yeah. I’ve got a lot on my mind. And for the past three days, it has all been trapped there. I couldn’t do anything about any of it.”

Shepard nodded in understanding. “You’ve been through some traumatic experiences, and you're a girl who likes to take action. It must have been frustrating to be confined to bed after everything,” he replied.

“Obviously,” Violet replied with a roll of her eyes. She huffed, then allowed her gaze to finally drift toward her therapist. “Isn't that exactly what it's like for you? Do I really need to explain why I’m irritated?”

Shepard paused. He sat up straight and crossed his own arms in a mirror of his student. “I find it can help to put your frustration into words. Think of it less as explaining it to me, and more as a way to release some of the pressure that's been building up,” he deflected.

Violet pushed forward, all but ignoring the suggestion. “But you do know what I mean, don't you? Isn't this exactly what you have to deal with constantly? How do you handle it?” she insisted.

Shepard tilted his head curiously and slid his arms apart. He folded his fingers together and rested his elbows on his lap as he examined Violet. She could tell he wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but he wasn’t ready to give up control of the exchange just yet.

“I believe everyone struggles with that feeling sometimes, yes,” he agreed. “Or at least something similar. But there is no formula for the best way to process it. Universal as the experience may seem, I don’t have one single answer for it. Everyone has different challenges and different perceptions of the issue. Different circumstances. I’m afraid my personal preferences aren’t the most productive thing to spend this session on. I’d much prefer to focus on you, and how you are currently responding to recent events. I can offer my perspective, but I need to know yours first.”

“I thought I could talk about whatever I wanted in these sessions? Did the rules change after my most recent brush with death, or were you maybe being less than honest with me?” Violet challenged.

Shepherd held one hand up in a sign of concession. “No, no. As always, this is your time. I will spend it with you discussing whatever you wish to address. I am simply offering what wisdom I can, considering my experience, in response to the trouble you are currently having,” he answered.

“I’m sorry. That sounded like a lot of words with little meaning. Can you speak plainly today? I don’t have the energy for emotional mazes,” Violet said with a sigh.

Shepherd barely narrowed his eyes as he examined Violet.

“I’m not certain that is true,” he replied. “It’s one thing I’ve always liked about our sessions, in fact. You seem to always have unending attention to spare for... emotional mazes. I’d say it’s more accurate to describe you as... uninterested in any route through the maze but your own. Don’t you think?”

“That’s hardly fair. I just asked to follow your example, and you’re the one who told me to find my own way. Then I ask to avoid playing games, and you ridicule me for wanting to find my own way,” Violet accused. “This is what I’m talking about. I ask a question, and you deflect, insisting I don’t need your answers. I don’t ask, and you insult me for failing to follow your lead. This is a maze, and I am too tired to find my way through it. Can’t we just... talk like two people for once? I thought we were making progress toward that.”

Shepard paused. Violet could see him looking to the side as he always did when recording notes. His expression didn’t change, and Violet almost thought he was unfazed by her words. But the silence stretched for long enough to reveal the truth. 

“Few students at this academy have had experiences quite like you have over the past week. Not one alone. One would leave anyone dizzy, but two brushes with death in such a short time period… it's understandable that you’d feel aggressive. Or... distrustful, if perhaps a better word. You have been failed by both this academy and, to my understanding, a previously close friend. Renewed suspicion of me is understandable. I am trying to help, though. I promise,” he responded in a calm voice. He was like still water in the rain, and Violet watched him with a growing anticipation.

“Few other students? Are you supposed to be sharing such details with me? I don’t know how I feel about a therapist who so easily confirms or denies things regarding his students. Or... is ‘clients’ the better word? Either way, I would hate to think you tell other people about our sessions,” Violet replied. 

She caught the slightest hint of irritation in the twitch of his brow. Her outrage had been ridiculous, of course, seeing as he hadn’t actually revealed anything. But that was sort of the point.

“I do not share student details, no. And I do understand why you may be feeling hostile, as I said. But I do ask that you refrain from accusations. At least the ones you don’t genuinely believe,” he said. 

Violet held back a grin. There was open irritation in that response, as much as the man tried to dress it in understanding and gentle tones. She was starting to get under his skin. Which meant she was the one in control. Or she would be soon.

“Exactly!” Violet replied. “So many people come to you for help. Day after day. Students... or children, really, come and speak to you. They tell you about their troubles. About the danger they are in. About the fucking abuses by Mr. Bouvier and whatever other teachers let us down. You are a therapist at a training camp for child soldiers, Mr. Shepard. 

“As much work as they put into making it look like a school. As much as they pay you to make sure our heads are just clear enough. At least to point our carefully fostered bloodlust in the right direction. That's still what this is. This is a government-sponsored camp for hurting children. And those same kids come to you. They tell you every little cruelty and fear they suffer under,” Violet lectured, her words like a faucet over an overflowing cup.

“Miss Asher...” Shepard said, trailing off as he planned his response. But Violet didn't give him the chance.

“That is my problem. That helplessness you must feel. I’ve suffocated under it for days. The knowledge of pain, and fear. The reality of this place has settled on my shoulders, and it's cutting into my skin. While I was recovering in bed, my friends were training for the mist. To face the monster and the neglect that's already almost killed them. My best friend just lost her father, and I’m not sure if she should grieve or celebrate. The last friend I have from home hates me and accused me of monstrous things. Whether in the mist or on campus, I feel like they are all so close to death.

“And I can't do anything about it. Especially as I was confined to the infirmary. I just had to sit and live with it. I have been letting the danger fester, and it's only so long before it takes someone I love. Someone I care about more than I care about myself. You see? It's the same thing, isn't it?” Violet continued. Her voice grew frantic as she spoke, like she was bleeding instead of speaking.

Shepard's brief annoyance had vanished as she spoke, and concern had peppered his face. “Violet. This is...” He trailed off, and a heavy breath pushed its way through his nose. He stopped and planned his response as sharp blue eyes tracked him. “Power is a matter of perspective, sometimes,” he finally said. His words were slow and deliberate, like he wasn't sure he should lend them his voice. “What you want to do may not always be an option. But that doesn't leave you powerless. It just means you have to accept that some things are out of your control. Which lets you pour everything you have into whatever you can change.”

Violet responded to the advice with eyes like an overcast sky. She was silent and cold, but there was rain in her intent.

“You never share what your students tell you. That's what you said, right?” Violet asked.

Shepard scanned her eyes like he was reading a book. “Of course not,” he answered.

“Even when they tell you their father was trying to kill them?” she pressed. “Even when that father is hired to work at the school she attends?”

Shepard sighed again. “If I believe someone is in legitimate danger, I will of course take whatever action is necessary. That is one of the first rules I shared with you, Violet,” Shepard explained.

“If you believe,” Violet mused. “Right. So what if it's not so obvious, then? If a boy is terrified of the job he's been drafted to do? If sending him into the mist with a dozen other children is a risk to all of them? If a kid with no ill intent tells you he'll freeze when people are counting on him. What about then?”

“My job is to evaluate such dangers and prevent such risks, yes. That's exactly what I mean, Violet. In such a case, I wouldn't clear the student for field work. That is one of many ways I work to keep my students safe,” Shepard assured.

“And when Bouvier sends them to the mist anyway? When he hires the man who may be trying to kill one of your students? When he overrides your advice and lets kids rely on a liability to protect them? What have you done then?” she snapped.

Shepard didn't respond right away. He didn't reel, as she'd hoped. But he was clearly sinking. Violet was burying him, and she could see his failure to keep his head above ground. It was a long silence, and there was a slow calculation behind the words Shepard was preparing to speak. 

Violet waited until he finally opened rigid lips, then she shook her head and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, cutting him off before he could begin to speak. “I’m sorry, that wasn't fair. I understand why these rules are in place. They protect us as much as they hurt us. It's just... I don't feel safe here anymore. I feel useless, and weak, and hopeless. And I just wonder. Don't you ever just want to... tell someone everything? To share what you promised would always be private? You could save lives if you did. It must be tempting sometimes. When you see what Bouvier is doing. When your advice is ignored, and someone gets hurt. If it were me... I’d break. I’d find someone I could trust, and I’d tell them every private danger offered by every student. How do you not? That's all I’m asking. Given the opportunity to do actual good, how do you hold your tongue?”

Violet watched the insect of a man squirm. She knew the answer to her question, of course. He did exactly that. His choice of confidant was... questionable at best. The main Asher family certainly wouldn't care if students were hurt. But she doubted his motives for spying were magnanimous. So long as he got paid, that would be all he cared about. Even so. Hearing her say the words... it was obvious he was feeling uncomfortable.

She almost wondered if he’d confess to it. Or defend the behavior. She thought it was most likely he’d double down and insist he’d never share therapy notes. It didn't matter. She only cares that her words drew blood. And they were.

Still, he surprised her with his response. 

“Is there something you'd like to do that you aren't supposed to?” he asked. “To help people, I mean.” A full deflection, and one which tried to put her on the back foot. 

She batted it away, making direct eye contact with a pointed stare. “You don't do that, do you?” she pushed. “Share our transcripts? Because, I’m sorry, but... there have been rumors.”

Shepard lifted one hand to his lips as he considered that. Violet had him on the hook, and she could see it. 

“I shouldn't have said that,” Violet whispered after a moment. “It’s just. Everyone thinks there is something suspicious about you, is all.”

Violet felt it the moment the words left her mouth, and she saw it in the sudden shift in Shepard's demeanor.

It had definitely worked.