Take A Ride With Me [Bryson]

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

Four horrible days at that house. One week here. Zilya was still counting the hours she spent here as though there were finite and one days she would be able to say 'not long now till I leave'. She knew that would happen but it would still be one long year before she got to that point and then she would have to get her uncle's help to get back to Russia, finally start her hormone treatments and hopefully still be able to get work and earn enough to live by herself and not have to ever see that man again.

Zilya couldn't believe that she had ever thought that seeing her father after eleven long years might be a good thing. It was complicated but she should have known better. In all that time, her mother barely ever spoke about the man and she just assumed that he might be okay with what she was but she had been so very wrong. The reasons why he never visited or why they never even spoke were obvious now. Her mother was just protecting her from the hatred that she would no doubt get from that man.

It didn't matter though, Zilya would simply try not to think about it. She had her first one on one session with one of the psychiatrists today. This wasn't going to be one of those let's all confess out sins type group therapy session with a counselor. This was going to involve her having to talk about her specific problems and there was no way out of it. She couldn't simply say she didn't want to talk and skip her turn.

Zilya didn't like the idea of having to talk to some strange old guy in glasses who would scribble on a clipboard and act like he knew exactly what was going on with her and how to help. Where would he start she wondered. The gender identity disorder? The anorexia? Would he really be able to help? She doubted it.

It didn't matter though. Zilya was determined to be in an incredibly good mood. She had several boxes in her room filled with fun stuff. Having set up the speakers for her ipod she plugged it in and smiled when some rnb music came on. As the music was playing, she moved a little to it as she went about looking for something to wear.

With all her clothes here, there was no excuse for looking bad. Especially not when looking good led to feeling good. Finally deciding on a simple black dress that fitted her perfectly, she finished up her make-up, left her hair down, putting a simple red flower in it to match the red shoes that she slipped on before looking herself over in the mirror. Yes, this will do, she thought before picking up her ipod, slipping on the earphones and walking out the door.

Even walking down the hallway, she looked like a model on a runway, it was just second nature now to walk and look good. It was habit for her and she saw no reason to change that at all. The music helped though, giving her a beat and putting her into a better mood. It made her feel good about herself and she needed that if she was going to fake like it was all good and get out of that session as quick as she could.

It was no surprise that no one had caught on yet. Zilya actually had curves and with her thin frame, she did look incredibly feminine and a stuffed bra always helped too. Getting there, she was told to go right in. Zilya turned her ipod off and rolled the chord around it before knocking on the door and waiting to be told to come in before opening the door and entering the room.

Outfit

[bryson michael preston]

Impressions were everything and that was why Bryson was in this office right now. He had a wonderful portfolio and his impressions were genuinely priceless. This was a very big step from him. He was born and raised in the very hot stateof Arizona. He then went on to attend Irvine, College of Education and Psychology in California. He graduated from the University with honors the same day his first born child Aimee Marie was brought into this world. That was the best day of his life beyond belief. Though, him and his wife split up due to differences, but were still friends. She had primary custody of Aimee, because Bryson believed that every child shouldn't be weened from their mother like that. He did in fact miss her terriblee.

This job though this was his calling. He loved children and he liked teenagers despite the contrary to his teen years which involved bullying and much time working hard for this benefit that was paying of and turned into a career. Teenagers were all very much alike as they were different. They were all trying to make meaning of this world and what their purpose was. They made hastey decisions. What wa right what was wrong? Sometimes it didn't involve those two questions and sometimes it did. Bryson wasn't here to give them answers he was here to diagnos them, listen, give them ideas, but they could only answer for stuff themselvesin the end. In correct terms he was here to analyze their psychological way of mind. That sounded a lot more easy then it was, but for Dr. Preston it was no chore. He loved what he did.

Reading over the file of Zilya Alexi Raskoniov, he made a few assumptions, but well sometimes in this line of work that wasn't a bad thing and then sometimes it was. This girl was a boy who was raised into a girl with the female state of mind playing heavily on her being. It read here that she was a model in Russia and a hit sensation, but recenetly her mother passed on her father had possible caused some trauma to the girl, because he wasn't accepting. He kind of shook his head at the story it was rather disturbing in the sense that a kid was a kid no matter who they turned out to be. Bryson's father had kicked him out when he learne her was bisexual and his mother went with him even if the two were still madly in love. It tore apart his family. He shook it off. He couldn't be emotionally inclined to this story! He had to be professional.

He took a sip of his coffee and looked at his watch. He mad his way over to the big red chair they gave him to sit in and well the other person had the option of sitting or laying down on the couch in the room. Just like clock work he heard a knock on his door. "Please, come in.'' he chimed in a professional manner. He had already written the date down and got comfortable whichhe thought presented a good cozy environment for one to speak in. He didn't want to start writing right when one walked in the room, because that would make them self conscious. That wasa no no. He also was comfortable so that the mood may set in on the other individual. It didn't always work, but it was a techniqe he learned.

Dr. Preston looked up as he heard the door open to kind of get his first impression of his client as he stood up for a sense or respect. He was kind of in awe at the figure walking through the door. It did not look anything like he had pegged it to look like. No it wasn't masculine by any means. It she wasn't...The girl looked rather breath taking in her attire. He took lightly disguised breaths because he had to be professional. Did his first client have to come in looking so amazing though? "Hello, I'm Dr. Bryson Preston." he said extending his hand once she was close enough introducing himself properly.

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

Appearance was important to Zilya. For someone who's entire image relied heavily on a facade, she had to be careful about these things. One little slip up and everything falls apart too easily but the years of practice had paid off. Zilya was not going to make any mistakes, she didn't need that after everything that's happened.

At the door, Zilya heard the words and entered. Her lips parted as blue-gray eyes scanned the room with curiosity and interest. She didn't know what to expect but everything seemed to fit quite nicely into any ideas she might have had about what this room would be like. The walls were a pale color but not the harsh white that seemed to find its way around most of Hawthorne. It was very professional with it's wooden shelves and large dark wood desk. The things in this room seemed to be typical of what one might except, right down to the leather couch to sit on or lie in should the person feel inclined. It was almost as though she had walked onto the set of a psychiatrist's office but this was real life.

Zilya brushed aside her hair and pushed it behind her ear. It was curled enough to add to the vintage look she was going for today. She looked a little older than her eighteen years but her face screamed of an innocent and lack of worldly knowledge. Being locked away in her own safe little world, the girl hadn't seen much of life but it never mattered to much to her.

Shutting the door behind her, Zilya finally got a good look at the man that she would be seeing more of during her time here. She smiled and moved closer as he introduced himself. She was tall, standing at just over 6' in her heels but it seemed to suit her slender form. She shook him hand and smiled again as she told him her name.

"Zdravstvuĭte, I am Zilya," she said, greeting him in her native tongue. Her voice was sweet despite the harshness of her language and the slight deepness to her voice hardly affected the feminine quality of it at all. Removing her hand she stepped back and sat down. All those etiquette classes had paid off. Ankles together and to the side, hands on your lap. Zilya stayed perfectly poised and waited for him to tell how exactly this would go. Would there be questions? Would she simply talk? Either way, she found that this was less of a problem now. The man in front of her seemed to put her a bit more at ease. He was young, closer to her age than some of the doctors here and he seemed nice enough. Zilya could hardly picture him as being the sort of person who might judge her too harshly but then it was always hard to tell.

[bryson michael preston]

Professionalism and appearance went hand and hand for Bryson. He was trying to mantain a reasonable sense of well proffesionalism with these individuals. He was here for that purpose. Though, he thought about it for a moment and the two of them had this in common she was trying to keep up her appearance as well. This would give people less ways to criticize her being. If in fact they even noticed at all it could be just a way to hide it all completely either way he would give them both a passing grade. That was if he was a teacher.


This was set up more like a movie then Dr. Preston would have liked. This was suppose to be a zone where people didn't feel like they were in a movie to act out. Well, then they were suppose to act out their emotions just make or give him as much as they possibly could with the time that they had to speak to him. When he first got here he couldn't help but chuckle. It was like he was a couples counsler or something off of one of his favorite movies. A big red chair. Was that suppose to give him some sense of empowerment? He wasn't an authority figure. Though it might seem like that too some of the people he would meet here and he could understand that, but he wasn't going to try and be anything of the sort. He was just here to make it better whether they bought it or not that was there gig and partly his as well.

The guy didn't want to pass judgements when she walked in the door though. He observed her body language and such. She was really classy it seemed going with the vintage style that made her look older then she really was. Here it said that was deceiving though and looks were always deceiving. She had been a mama's girl and very sheltered despite living the modeling life. He fully studied as much as he could before hand. Preperation was key.

Heighth was very interesting here as she wore high heels. This made him feel very short but he wasn't intimidated by it. He wouldn't get intimidated by much. He had heard everything in the book his high school years and working in this field you weren't allowed to get intimidated and if you did you shouldn't show it. People used that to their advantage. He didn't want to be taken advantage of!

Russian. It wasn't a language he knew but it would be something that would be very evident here. "Zilya it is very nice to meet you." he said a smile growing across his face. Once the handshake was over he looked towards the couch. "Please, take a seat can I interest you in a water maybe?" he asked her to be polite. He was always sure to have something to drink for the client. Water mostly. Sometimes you got parched when you talked or didn't talk. He was just mostly doing his job. Then she took a seat and he watched her ettiquote poise. Very well mannered. He went and got her a glass of water and then walked back after setting it down on the side table closest to her. He took a seat and set his clipboard in his lap. "Well, Miss Zilya lets start by saying anything in this room stays between you and I anything you wish to withhold will be respected, however I may use it for clinical purposes, but it will not go in the file. Key elements however will. This is a bit about questions, but it is more about you so I thought I'd start of by trying to get to know a little bit about eachother you explain to me who you are from your perspective depth no depth I'm interest in whatever you have to say and you are free to ask me questions about myself else well. I feel it makes people feel more comfortable." he said with a smile. That was her cue to start he was professional yet cassual and he showed respect towards his clients and wanting them to kind of feel at ease.

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

Zilya took a moment to look him over. He was well dressed and his appearance was immaculate. One could tell immediately that he took his work seriously. The man cared about his image and she could appreciate that. Image was very importance to Zilya and keeping hers perfect and in order only helped her further in leading people to believe that there was nothing wrong with her and perhaps convince herself as well.

Zilya could almost picture them in a film noir scene all in black and white. Her in the place of either a damsel in distress or the femme fetal, and him, well, if his suit was a little more vintage she could see him in the role of a detective. A perfect gentleman out to do right and help the young woman in need of his services. She smiled at the thought but quickly hid it not wanting to seem odd but it was a nice thought at least.

Zilya wasn't going to go off on tangents though. She understood that this man was here to do his job and putting all these difference images on him wasn't going to help anyone, even if he was incredibly attractive. This man would know just about everything about her and that meant that nothing would ever happen here. Zilya's sense of self-esteem was so low that she was sure that any man who knew a lot about her would never ever be attracted to her.

"It is nice to meet you too Dr. Preston," she said politely, shaking his hand. Her Russian accent was strong and her grasp on the English language wasn't the best but she did quite well on her own despite this. She sat down when he asked her to. "Yes please," she said the offer of a glass of water. Thank the lord for that lip color sealer she bought. Lip stick marks on a glass was never attractive, no matter who you were. She smiled when he place the glass in front of her. "Thank you," she said. He seemed nice enough and everything was so formal and professional but it was nice.

Zilya just listened, staring almost blankly at the man as she heard the introductory spiel. So many words and so much to take in. It felt like he had rehearsed this or something but either way, a lot of it just went right past her. It didn't matter though, she got the basic gist of it. She talks, he talks, questions are asked and answered. It sounded simple enough.

"Alright," she said but not really knowing what he wanted her to say. That wasn't how it was suppose to go. She should say what she thought she should, Zilya should speak the truth but she wouldn't even know where to start. "What do you want me to tell you?" she asked, looking a little confused. Did he want any specific information? It felt like some sort of a test and she didn't really know the answers to it either.

[bryson michael preston]

Creating a great picture was only half the battle. Producing results was the other half of his image. That part they were going to start to get to in a little bit. She handled herself with such poise and really carried out what a woman was suppose to look and act like. If Bryson hadn't read her file and didn't know anything about her he'd be convinced, but there was more to it then that and that was why he was here. To listen and help her out.

Bryson, had failed to see her smile sense he was getting water, but the odd expression on her face made it seem like either something was amusing or he had something wrong with his attire. Her body language spoke to him. He didn't question it though whatever it was she would speak up if she'd like. She looked like she came out of one of the olden day movies or something. It made him smile, but then it quickly faded not wanting her to see him not being serious.

Dr. Preston, had not formed any realy opinions about her yet besides the fact that her looks protrayed what she was going for and the fact that she seemed kind of suttle. He would know more about her though when she spoke, because yes that was his job. To get to know a person. He played favorites unknown to his clients of course. He acted like they were all the same, but not all of them had problems they just mentally believed they did.

He respected people more when they were polite so it brought a cassual smile to his face as he sat down with a nod. ''You are very welcome"he said and crossed his legs. The room got silent for a moment as he thought of the best approach. This was his first session at Hawthorne and though he was professional he was nervous.

Bry, watched her as he spoke to see if she was connecting to what he had to say. He hoped he didn't lose her in the gist of his rambling. Was it rambling? He hoped not he was just trying to make her comfortable. He hoped she felt relaxed..well enough he understood this wasn't the most relaxing thing to do.

He knew she hadn't been confused he just didn't ask for specefic details, because well to some that was kind of raw. "Well, lets see I want you to fill in some blanks for me...I want to get to know you better before we jump in to anything serious..so hobbies, pet peeves, friends, the school...what you like and how you feel towards some of those topics" he said laying stuff out there. He thought it was best they spoke on stuff like that first then he'd tackle some heavier issues.

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

Zilya glanced up in time to see him smile before it disappeared about as quick as it had appeared. It was a second, or even a fraction or a second but she did see it. He had a nice smile, that was something else to add to the list. She didn't think to question it though, less than a minute ago she had done the same so she simply assumed he had been thinking about something completely unrelated to here and what was happening now.

It wasn't long before she saw him smile again and speak this time. She smiled too. it was a good sign and it made her feel more comfortable. Zilya could assume now that he was a nice person, if he could at least smile at her (while knowing what was in her file) then surely things wouldn't be so bad. She knew that he would be aware of it so this helped her feel a bit better about this whole situation. Of course there was the chance that it could be fake but Zilya didn't want to think about that. She would rather ignore it and focus on the positives.

He had said a lot and if it had been in Russian then Zilya would be fine but in English she needed a bit more time to catch up and put the pieces together so to her it just sounded like rambling but she caught enough of it to get a basic idea. She tried not to let it be too obvious though. She didn't want to seem like she wasn't smart and couldn't understand something basic. No, that would be bad. She didn't want him to think that of her. In fact, she didn't want him to think anything bad.

Zilya thought about it for a moment. How was she going to answer all those questions. This was more than a little over-whelming but she decided to do her best.. "I.. like working. Modeling is like a hobby for me.. Um.. I like shopping, yoga and going out with friends," she said, looking away and she thought of the things to list. Yes that would do for hobbies.. "I don't know what is pet peeves," she said, not understanding the term. She hadn't heard it before, was it something to do with pets? She didn't know. "Friends.. I have friends in Russia I still talk to them and maybe some friends here also but it's only one week so not enough time to meet people," she explained, looking back at him, trying to justify and explain everything as best she could.

"the school is nice," she said. she had seen a bit of it by now but not much. She would rather be home but then for someone who was homesick that was pretty obvious. Zilya just didn't have anything here. She didn't have friends and she didn't have anyone she could talk to or be with who might give her a reason to think that she might be alright here. Also, this place was that much closer to the man who she was afraid of. Just thinking about it made her want to cry sometimes but she wouldn't.. She wouldn't think about the bad, though for a moment the fear and sadness were clear on her face before she shrugged it off by picking up the glass and drinking from it.

[bryson michael preston]

Bryson now thought about it and realized he could have been confusing because she was use to her native tongue. He could respect that. He respected her highly though for the things she had overcome. Though she pry didn't realize it she was a role model for someone with the same issues. More then less he had a serious face on, but for the time being he couldn't help but smile. She was so sweet and well this session had been going really well though it just started!

Dr. Preston could see she felt strained. Maybe it was too much at once, but he was just trying to get a feel for her and how she felt about certaing things. "Work tell me a little bit about that from your perspective, basically just sum it up for me." he said wanting to know more about that because that had to be maybe hard? Maybe it made her feel more like herself. "What are your friends like..? Are they supportive?" he asked casually getting into it more. The questions were to be answered one at a time in detail he was merely just asking them as they came up. Maybe he should move slower yeah he should move slower. "Nevermind lets just talk about modeling for now.." he said uncrossing his legs as hwer watched her body language. He didn't want to put too much on her plate and he could tell maybe he had.


Thus far he had heard about her friends a little and some other things. Then the topic changed to school and how she liked it here or well what she thought of it she said the school was nice, but he knew that was beyond her. Sure, it was nice. It looked nice, but kids were here, because they needed to get better whether i was physically or mentally. There was some sort of issue there. "You want to tell me a little about why you believe you are here..I mean your file says stuff, but I want to hear from you thats just paper." he said letting her know he was setting that aside hoping that she would get he was trying to form his own opinion about her. Modeling and school he was sure that her story would unfold. He could tell that she would try and do it in a good manner, but he was looking for anything of the most emotion to tell him about her.

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

Zilya had done well with her position in life. She was actually incredibly lucky to be born with feminine features. She had everything she needed without the help of hormones or operations but time would make it that much harder. A girl shouldn't need to shave her face, that just wasn't right. Even as minimal as it was, Zilya didn't like it one bit, even going as far as getting those expensive treatments to minimize and it did. Now she never has to bother with that again which was great. It had been her mother's idea. The woman always understood her best and knew just what to do.

Zilya thought about it again. She always thought about what she would say before actually speaking. She just didn't want to say the wrong thing. "Work is nice. I like it," she said. He did say sum it up but that was much too brief an answer and she knew it but what else was she suppose to say? The girl just didn't open up much, especially not with something she didn't even know.

"My friends," she began, looking down as she thought about it. Those girls were pretty superficial but then wasn't that normal for teenage girls? They talked about fashion, hair, make-up, boys and gossiped about each other. Those were all perfectly normal. "Yes," she decided to say. yes they were supportive. They were models, they had that in common.

She looked up again. There wasn't much to say about modeling.. Alright maybe there was. She had talked to Tanner about it and she had more she could have said but right now in this situation she was just closed off and quiet. That wasn't fair to Dr. Preston at all so Zilya decided to go out of her way and try to say something more about it if he continued to ask her questions.

Zilya thought that this would be easy. She would just tell him that everything was peachy, smile and then get the hell out and go on with her life, just biding her time until her eighteen birthday when she can legally make her own decisions and go live with her uncle. Unfortunately things were never going to be that easy.

He asked her a question just as she was already thinking about that man, her father, if he could even be called that! He hadn't been there since she was six and he didn't want anything to do with her. He hated her and he called her a monster. That was why she was here. Is that what this doctor wanted to hear? Should she repeat those words, the reasons why she was a mistake, one of God's messed up accidents that didn't even have the right to exist.. Those had been his words and Zilya found she couldn't fake the smile, she looked visibly upset by that question.

She wanted so much to be able to just answer but all the things he said just played in her mind all the things he did. Zilya just stared at her hands as they started to tremble a little from the fear and sadness and rejection and self-hate that seemed to instantly slip back into place. Her whole world crumbled that night and now she was reliving it. Zilya just shook her head, she wouldn't even look up at him. No, no she didn't want to talk about that at all! Not one word would be said. Anything else but that.

[bryson michael preston]

Dr. Preston looked over the females features. Without looking to deep into it. He no she looked like a girl feature wise as well for having male parts. He knew it had to be hard being something you didn't want to be and then trying to be what you were in fact. It was just something he couldnt ever imagine dealing with himself. Though his bisexuality might have counted for that years ago, but he had overcome and he was sure she would too.

Dr. Preston watched her think a little too hard. He knew that was when he would get crap answers. He felt a little discouraged. He hoped that she wouldn't toy/lie to him, because he wouldn't want to waste her time. Let alone his. He was here only to benefit her. "Elaborate...what do you like about it besides the obvious the clothes the pictures.." he said wanting more and trying to take the approach of trying to well get more. If not she wouldn't give in.

"Your friends..." he reaffirmed in a content tone. Hey he had time. They would have other sessions to sh wouldn't be able to escape all the time. "What are they like how do they support you?" he asked his head resting against the his palm as his arm sat on the arm rest. He nodded when she said they were supportive yes. He knew she was trying to avoid this. It was alright it happened. He'd coax her into it.

She couldn't lie to him and tell him there wasn't much to modeling. There was tons. The media attention, the spotlight, it brought up tons of questions about her gender. He had researched it. He didn't think it was crazy he thought she was admirable for doing something she loved and doing something with the person she wanted to be and it made a statement.

Zilya thought that this would be easy. She would just tell him that everything was peachy, smile and then get the hell out and go on with her life, just biding her time until her eighteen birthday when she can legally make her own decisions and go live with her uncle. Unfortunately things were never going to be that easy.

Therapy wasn't easy. It meant you had to trust some stranger. He knew it could be hard. He had seen it many times before. Someone would try and act like they were fine, but he could read the hurt in their faces. "Miss look I know this isnt the easiest thing in the world I get that I'm just here to listen. Holding it all in isn't going to help you please talk to me" he said being polite trying to convince her to speak. "I use to go to therapy I completely get it." he said being honest his mother made him go when his father disowned him. Something they had in common sort of.

In the file it said her father sent her here, because she had a sexual disorder which meant the man was in denial. Bryson already despised him, because he had a strong connection to this, but he couldn't tell her that he was suppose to be taking a nonpersonal approach. Though he knew she felt like she wa a mistake, like she was all the names in the books he called her. She was letting it eat her up inside. He just waited not wanting to push too much even if it was his job just a little bit.

"Just in your own words just you and I here let it out Zilya who are you and why are you at Hawthorne..." he said restating the question. He wanted to hear it from her. He didn't want to tear her apart, but part of getting the perspective was having his clients relive stuff and aiding them through the issue. She wasn't looking at him now which made him feel bad, but well he just had to wait it out. Even though he had no clue what it meant. Would she open up? Or would she shut down even more?

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

it was still early in the session and Zilya still sat, perfectly composed, a little quiet but she still looked on with that sweet calm composer, waiting for this to eventually end with no dramas or unexpected twists. She licked her lips when they felt a little dry. they stayed parted as she looked up at him, wide eyed and innocent, waiting for more of those questions. Perhaps if he got through them quicker, this might all be over.

Just as she expected, her answer wouldn't suffice. She needed to give him more.. She would have said posing for pictures and all those lovely clothes were nice but then he has skipped right past that and she had to go more in dept with this one. "It's nice, dressing up, looking.. nice. It's good," she told him, having to pause at the word, nearly saying looking the way she should, looking like a girl. That's what she liked about it, starting young, getting her make-up done for the first time and looking in the mirror to see something that she might actually call beautiful. That was rare and the slightest hint of a smile appeared on her face. Maybe that was what he wanted to know. "I get to be me," she told him, blue eyes turning back to his. "I just get to be a girl and that's why I like it," she told him. That was where she learned all those little tips and tricks to help her along and help her put together this perfect mask.

"They are nice," she told her. 'Nice' a word so over-used by her that daring her to never use it might leave her speechless for a week. "I don't know.. We.. We just talk, go shopping, do all those normal things and they like me how I am. I am like them, they see no difference," she said with a shrug. They accepted her simply because she worked the same sorts of jobs, she knew what it was like. She may be a little different but they were all essentially they same and that was why they didn't care too much about the minor details.

She used to be so much more than this. Zilya was out going and she had a life. Google would tell you this. The girl even had a wikipedia page. Youtube videos of interviews.. She was always smiling and confidant. She encouraged people to be who they wanted to be and basically proved that anything could happen but now she had lost that. She had lost her mother and that was the beginning but then those four days here.. That was what took everything away and made her doubt it all.

He wanted her to talk about it... No. It wasn't that easy. Couldn't he just tell her that pretending it never happened and moving on was a good option? Couldn't he just do that? No, it wasn't, she knew that but she didn't want to have to face it all again and put it into words. Saying it out loud made it more real. So maybe she was tormented, beaten, yelled at, locked up for four days.. Worse things had happened to other people. All the world's problems.. That was more important than her.. But then this was just her deflecting again.

She looked up when he said he knew what it was like. What sort of problem would he have? He seemed perfectly normal and well adjusted. What could he possibly need therapy for she wondered.. But then people weren't easy, they were complex individuals.

She was just playing with make-up, a stupid boy playing dress up, trying to be a girl when he wasn't one.. That's what he said. He kept saying she was a boy and that she should just grow up and stop playing with this rubbish. What was she suppose to say that that. Zilya tried to keep calm. Don't show fear and you better not cry either. Boys don't cry, stop acting like some stupid girl, you're not one.. He said all those things and they kept playing in her head.

She had spent eleven years carefully putting the pieces together, forming who she was, like any kid would do. Trying to figure out who they were, learning to be happy with themselves and in four days he ripped it all apart, cruelly tearing each piece away, leaving her lost, confused and unsure of herself. If she wasn't any of those things like he had said then who was she? What would be left of her? Nothing. She was nothing, less than nothing.

So who was she, he asked.. Who was she and why was she hear? She could feel the tears in her eyes and her lip started to shake.. She was nothing.. It just kept playing in her head. Worth nothing. why was she here? Because she was just a stupid boy playing with his mother's make-up. God, it felt horrible just thinking it. Any girl would hate to hear that. Any normal girl.. Was Zilya so different?

"i can't," she whispered, not looking at him at all, she leaned forward, resting her forearms on her legs as though she were trying to hide away for a while. Was this the whole point. was he just waiting for her to crack and show that she wasn't fine after all.. She had done well pretending and one man manages to undo it all by asking the right questions.. Was this his job? she wouldn't talk about it and now she had to.

The tears were still there but she didn't want to cry. Zilya just tried not to blink at all just to hold them back. She bit her lip a little, she looked positively distraught. "On govorit, chto ya bespolezny.. Mozhet bytʹ, on prav ," she said quietly, just staring at her hands. She knew that he wouldn't understand. She could barely say it to herself so this was all she would do to answer his question.

[[she said: "he says that i am a worthless.. maybe he is right."]]

[bryson michael preston]

Though the session had just begun he had read into it that she didn't want to talk that she thought this was going to be a peice of cake that he wasn't going to push her. Well, maybe she expected that, but he could tell she just didn't want this to be a place where she lost composure. Therapy hour could be the longest hour of someones life if they were the one's who needed therapy. That much was obvious. Plus he had experienced it. It really helped him which was why he flipped the script. He wanted to really help people.

Rummaging for more he could tell maybe he might be getting somewhere. The thing he was looking for was her being herself and she answered that. The clothes brought her to life. That is what he took from it. He nodded his head and decided to flip the script. "Do you think you could still be you without having ever modeled?" he asked her knowing that it would pry get a deeper answer. "And explain how you feel about that." he said just to be clear. That statement. If you subtracted modeling from her life could she still be herself? She liked who she had become that much was evident well for the most part so why did she need modeling?

"Acceptance is good." he said with a nod as he watched and listened to her choice of words. It meant that she could just be who she wanted to be around them no questions asked and she wasn't judged cause they were all very much alike. "What about people here are the accepting?" he asked not wanting to flat out ask her about being a guy. He was nervous and didn't know how to word that without looking like a total ass. Therapists were suppose to ask the tough things, but well she..he was convinced that would do more harm then good in this particular sessioin or at the moment.

Bryson had looked her up on the Internet studied her information what the media said she was like, but the girl in front of him didn't potray and outgoing happy figure. She was hiding herself and well he was sure it was because she was sent to this place. Someone might feel like they failed if they were sent to Hawthorne. It was suppose to fix people. Though he didn't see how he was suppose to fix her. She wasn't confused about her gender. That much was clear, so he felt like his job was to find the deeper meaning of why she was really here.

Prentending like something never happened meant that eventually it would surface again at some point in life or send you in a downward spiral. No pretending like you were okay when you really weren't wasn't ever good. That was what he was here to help her 'fix'. No one wanted to face the bad in life, but it was there and sometimes you just needed a little help getting rid of it. If not sometimes it turned into guilt. Especially when you thought you were in the wrong. That would be wrong.

Bryson had given out a little too muchinfo, but he wanted her to feel like he was't some guy just trying to pry into her life and get her to open up when he didn't understand anything. If he hadn't though he wouldn't have been there. It could be really confusing. The room was silent. He let her reflect.

He could tell by her expressions that she was slowly gathering everything. What was truely wrong? What had really happened! Though she wasn't talking. That was never good. Maybe, she was beating herself up over it mentally now and that wasn't the goal. The goal was for her to come out and speak. For one to be happy they should have inner peace. Now that he brought up her being he could tell she wasn't at peice at all.

Then the tears slid down her face and he bit his lip placing the tissue in front of her. Obviously, something tramatic happened to where she felt like she couldn't be the girl in the pictures, in the youtube videos, the girl she truely was brought about to be. He wondered what though. She couldn't define herself? He had more work here then he could imagine, but he knw that it wouldn't be a problem. He would make it work. He let the silence be still for awhile longer. "Its okay to cry." he said seeing that she was trying to fight them. Just a bit


"You can." he said hearing her and watching her hide away. "Zilya you can't hide from this and I'm just here to help you Im here for you to confide in." he spoke up. He took a drink of his water and picked up his note book quickly jotting some stuff down. She wouldn't look at him. This was worse then he thought.

She said something but it was in her native tongue. Well, at lest she spoke. He nodded a little bit. "What does that mean?" he asked in a soft spoken voice trying to get her to explain. He just wanted to understand. Though he wouldn't be able to help her if she couldn't open up and try and help herself a little too. He needed for her to let him in.

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

Zilya looked up at him again. He was asking hard questions. She had never in her life wondered about what things might be like if she wasn't a model. "I've never thought about that," Zilya said, thinking about it now as she sad up straighter. What would life be like if she didn't get to parade around in pretty dressed and get all dolled up and really felt like a real girl and a beautiful one at that. "I think I would still be me," she said. "But modeling did help me a lot," she told him. It made a big difference but she still had her mother and because of that woman, she would have still been happy and be able to be herself.

How did she feel about that? "I had my mother and she always accepts me so I think if I didn't work then maybe things would still be good," she said with a shrug. She didn't mind the idea of not ever having done it because the woman would still be in her life supporting her.

"It is only one week," she told him. It was far too little time to be accepted. "I.. I have not told anyone and no one has realized.. So, I don't know what will happen," she told him. She didn't know if she would be excepted or shunned. It would depend on the person but with something so personal, Zilya would only tell them if she had managed to form a close friendship with the person and that took time.

It was all wrong and it would no doubt give the doctor something to think about but Zilya didn't think about that. She was sent her for a sexual disorder, as though her problem was confused and complicated and needed to be fixed but that wasn't it at all. She was happy, and she knew what she was but he had undid some of the good that had happened and now she was left afraid and unsure of herself. The happy, outgoing, smiling Zilya was hidden away, locked away, just waiting for a reason to come out.

It seemed he had picked up on that and perhaps that was part of the reason she couldn't answer the question of why she was here. She knew why but that wasn't it at all. She was here because he wanted her to just be a boy and start acting like one but she couldn't do that. It would be like living a lie so she couldn't be helped, it was hopeless and pointless and it left her feeling low.

Getting to the root of the problem, Zilya was a little afraid She was loosing that fake pretend sense of happiness. She couldn't hold on to it anymore and it had been like a security blanket for her. Now he would know there was a problem and now she couldn't escape it anymore. That was an incredibly scary thought, having to face her demons.

Zilya could feel the tears and the self-hatred gained momentum as she mentally berated herself for it. It was a sign of weakness. She shook her head at the offered tissues and just wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. It would only be an accept to keep doing this if she had accepted and she didn't want that. She wanted the tears to stop, she was trying to stop but it was hard to do that.

She kept seeing his face, telling her to stop crying, pulling her hair, pushing her to the ground. He kept making it worse and Zilya just didn't know how to get out. She was locked in that door for four days. Even the windows wouldn't escape. She thought she would be there forever until she started acting like a boy and it frightened her. She might have given up and given in and just been what he wanted her to be but the problem was, she didn't even know how to do that.

She shook her head. It wasn't okay to cry. She had been told that, many, many times and now this man was telling her something different? Zilya didn't even think like a boy. She was a girl and this was hurting her and upsetting her. What else was she suppose to do? Maybe he was right, maybe she was just weak and worthless and trash. She didn't deserve anything good she got in life.

She let her hair fall over her face, hiding it from view, concealing the sadness when it was already so obvious. His words did sound nice. He was here to help her, for her to confide in.. She did need that. She needed someone to talk to but still she wouldn't look him in the eyes now. She didn't want to see what expression he might have. She was weak and she didn't want to see any disappointment or hate. She knew she probably wouldn't but Zilya just didn't want to risk it right now.

Zilya sat up just a little, resting her elbows on her thighs as she covered her mouth with her hand as though she was trying to stop herself from trusting this man and speaking to him. Could she trust I'm to help her? part of her was saying yes, it was saying she needed it but Zilya was afraid to do that. She calmed down a bit. Taking in a deep breath. He asked her what it meant. Could she say it?

"I said.." she began, trying to pull herself away from those memories just so she could speak without faltering too much or just plain stopping and crying again. "He.. He said I am worthless.. maybe.. maybe he's right," she told him, still not looking in his eyes. She had doubt in the whole world now. If he thought that than how many others would think the same? There were those in Russia who knew her and loved her but they were so far away. Here she had nothing, she wiped another tear.

"I hate it here.. because he's here," she said, talking about the whole country in general. It was foreign to her and it wasn't home and it made her feel sick and lost and so very alone. "I just want to go home but I can't because he won't let me. He thinks I am problem, that i am mistake by god," she said, now able to talk since she had gotten those first words out.

"i thought i was going to be locked in that room forever," she said, barely above a whisper, though she was still not looking at him as she spoke. she thought she would never escape and then he sends her here to a place filled with people with problems, some even dangerous. She had a happy but sheltered life going from that to this was a big chance and she didn't know what to do other than to pretend everything was fine and just wait until she could finally leave.
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[bryson michael preston]

Well, he could tell she was being as honest as she could be about the manner. It was hard to think about things that were always so in reach dissappearing. Good thing sometimes that the what if's in life were like what ifs and not factual. "Good." he said when she said she thought she would still be herself. Most likely though people it would be hard to take that out of the picture. "How many yeards have you been into modeling?" he asked her making her think about that as well. Kind of just throwing it out there to get more information stirring in her head. Was modeling that easy to not have? Was it a security blanket?

Then she mentioned her mother and how she was accepting in supportive. Now, in her file it mentioed her mother had passed on that was something it did say. That would be a touchy topic. "Tell me about your mother" he said quirking a brow a little bit. He wanted to know she played a big role in Zilya's life. She was important to her. Why not talk about her?

Alright, so in the one week she had talked to people that wouldn't be enough time to let people in on her true being...He wondered if she was so happy why she couldn't let other people be happy for her. Not everyone was accetpting, but you had that everywhere. "What do you think in your honest opinion will happen? he askedher curious to how she felt people would react if they knew the truth.

Bryson knew he was making her kind of sad making her think of things she didn't want to think about, but he wasn't trying to fix her like they wanted him too. That wasn't something he believed in. You couldn't cure people for wanting to be the way they wanted to be. If they found themselves then why try and change them? It wasn't like it was like they were trying to change you to make you change in the same way they had. She found more of herself then most teens had already. Why would you risk an identity crisis?


At the end of the day at some point reality would haunt you. Bryson, thought it was easier to let yourself come one with the problem. He honestly believed it would be better to allow yourself to just face your fears. Hiding them never helped anyone. They would make you go more insane constantly thinking about them and build up and it wasn't good.

Bryson saw her fighting her fears, fighting her tears, ulitimately fighting what would eventually bring cheer. He licked his lips and tilted his head. "Zilya, let me just tell you why its good to let go.." he said and cleared his throat. "An example of build up makes the though process go wild." he started holding one finger out. "The average teenage girl overthinks thing about ninty percent of the time due to being emotional, now typically they are more emotional based on the person, but when you overthink things typically what happens to you in particualr aspects of you life you grow depressed...right?"he said rhetorically asking that question. "Now, I'm not here to try and fix the way you think I'm here to help you avoid situations that will caused you to be depressed, because I know I'm not suppos to have personal views, but I believe the disorder you have is well is crap its not a disorder." he said shaking his head. He took a deep breath.


"My main thoughts about you is you are who you are and you like being yourself and being brought about to this world we are told to be ourselves and if you lose touch with that then who are you?" he asked her rhetorically again of course. He pointed back and forth between the two of them and then spoke. "You and I are here today to talk about why you feel you have to hide being your own individual being...I studied you and the girl getting interviewed in all those videos the girl doing runway she was very happy. You seem like you could be happy, but there is something in the way..I'm here to help you get back to being happy." he said clarifying what he thought this session was about.

He watched her hide behind her hair and hide the words that were going to come from her mouth. He hadn't given her reason to trust her he was a complete stranger and he knew it was going to be hard, but he would earn it he would get her to talk. Bryson was good at getting people to talk. He was kind of one of the best new guys in the field. No one could argue with that. He had helped many in such a little time.

It was obvious who had said she was worthless his signature was on the bottom of her sign in sheet. He watched as she choked out the words that really had to be hard, but hs knew how she felt sort of. "Look, deep with in yourself to this point have you ever felt worthless and if you feel worthless because of those words do you honestly believe that?" he asked her. The dude wasn't right. He was trying to make her see that.

Bryson just listened to what she had to say. He made mental notes of it all . Of course a father would say that about their son. They took pride in having a boy, but he made the mistake of not making it healthy. Even if it wasn't what he wanted it was what he got. Your bloods ran through the vains and you never knew what to expect if the child was just being born anyways unless you cheated and caught a peek. He just let those words be for now. He could tell saying them was enough. He didn't need to ask how she felt about it.

He heard words he despised. The man had hidden her away from his own eyes until she complied with how he wanted her to be. He was kind of upset, but he wouldn't let it show. "What happened in that room?" he asked her. "How did you feel besides the you couldn't leave?" he said wanting a description. He really was getting inside of her story which would give him the actual roots of the problems.

[zilya alexis raskolnikov]

"I was for a few years when I was younger like maybe seven years old to ten and then I stopped and started again at fourteen," she explained. She had quite a few years there and a lot of experience so imagining a life without any of that was hard to do but Zilya knew it would have been fine. Any sort of a life there would have its ups and downs but she would have made it through just fine because she had support and family.

Zilya thought about it for a second. She could speak about her mother without having it upset her. The woman had died but she had so many good memories to fall back on. That thinking about that made her happy. It wouldn't be until later that she remembered there would be no more of this and found a reason to be sad again.

"She was maybe the best mother anyone can have," she said. "She was like friend and is always there to help you or talk to you if you have problems," she said, stopping there and taking a breath. She didn't want to say too much and get to the part where she had to think about the last bit of the woman's life.

"Depends on the person," she told him, which was the truth. She didn't want to think about it because they were slowly encroaching on the topic of that man and then all Zilya would be able to do was think that others might agree with him and to that severe extent to. She couldn't do that yet. "It's only week, I can't even think of what will happen," she admitted. It would be too hard to say.

She looked up at him. Over think things? Of course she did that. what else should she do? Should she just assume the man was wrong and just plain cruel and lacked understanding and tolerance.. It might have been a reasonable choice but then emotions came into the picture and the hurt took over.

she listened to what he said. The doctor didn't think she had a problem the way he thought it. She kept referring to her as a girl, that was more than he had done. He said he just wanted to help her be happy again. Maybe he wasn't so bad.. Maybe she could talk to him.. this was when she decided to at least try and open just a little more, maybe let him help her but those thoughts weren't easy to escape from.

Zilya shook her head. No she didn't feel worthless until she came here. All the bad things only happened after that plane landed. "You don't know what it was like," she told him. Yes she had been happy but all that changed and for four days she had no idea what would happened, she felt hopelessness and thought she had no other choice than to give up and give in and lose everything she had worked for hard to gain. She knew she would lose herself in the process.

"a lot of things happened," she said. she still couldn't look at him as she said it because of all the shame and guilt and fear and hate. How did she feel? "afraid, trapped, angry.. but at myself," she told him. the man had managed to convince her that she was the problem. he still wanted to know what had happened and Zilya would tell him. he was trying to help, he seemed fine with her being who she was and that might just be enough for her.

"he said i couldn't leave because i was a monster and a mistake and all these other things. I have half brother and sister and he said i can't leave the room and i cant see them because i would be bad example to them," she began. this was only the mild beginning, before the hurt. "there was a lot of shouting and arguing. he kept saying all these bad things. he threw all my things, broke them, burned my clothes.. he was very angry," she told him, a hand moving to her arm, pulling herself in like she was trying to hide from physical harm. she hadn't told the doctor about being beaten too. she couldn't tell him. the girl was rake thin, it wasn't as though she had a chance in hell of fighting back against a man like him. Besides, wouldn't it all have been in her file? she had come to the school with a cut lip, a black eye and a whole range of other bruises. The man had say she got into a fight, added that to the list of reasons why something was wrong with her and Zilya was too afraid to say anything about what really happened, but maybe the doctor would now be able to put those pieces together himself.

"He said i couldn't leave until i stop being stupid and start acting like a boy because that's what i am," she told him. it was strange repeating those words because Zilya looked nothing like a boy and she didn't really even sound like much of one either. this was all the pg version though but zilya didn't want to make it sound horrible, she was going out of her way to make it sound like it wasn't so bad when it was clear in the way she spoke and how carefully she chose her words, that it was. that was why she thought she would be locked away forever because that was something she couldn't do. Zilya just plain didn't know how to and while she was there, she reached a point where she wished she could just so she could be free.

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