The therapist's office looked like it was straight out of a movie. Like someone had done a paint-by-numbers to design the room. Carpet floors, wooden walls and shelves, extravagant curtains covering the windows and of course, a big wooden desk in the corner of the room. Iris took a seat on the leather couch to the side of the desk and looked around. Not a thing was out of place, that was until she caught a glimpse of the therapist. Dr. Hans Achterberg. She had envisioned him to be older; fifty maybe, with graying hair and a wrinkled face. She expected him to walk with a cane to mask a noticeable limp, for him to dress in a three piece suit and to have as much personality as a tree branch. However, when she took a look at the man seated behind the desk, she was greeted by the youthful face of a man who couldn't have been but five years older than her, with dirty blonde hair. He was wearing a suit however, so her assumption wasn't completely inaccurate.

"Doctor Achterberg?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. He laughed and nodded his head, before pushing his chair out and standing up, straightening his jacket. His laugh was high pitched, almost snickering and definitely condescending and as his eyes met hers, she could sense something off about him though she couldn't quite place a finger on what exactly it was. He walked around his desk to the couch, where he extended his arm and held out an open palm, waiting for her to accept it. Her focus shifted from his eyes to his hand twice before she stuck a trembling hand out to grab his. They shook hands. More accurately, he shook her hand while she let hers lay limp in his. The second he let go, she pulled her hand back to her side and clutched onto her shirt.

"Iris Oppenheimer, I presume," he said as he made his way back to his desk.

"Mhm."

"So, seeing as this is our first session, why don't you go ahead and tell me a little bit about yourself?"

Iris titled her head to the side and began to tap her fingers against her chest, whistling a tune. Achterberg opened his mouth to speak, to steer the session away from this awkward lull but just then she stopped whistling and made a noise that sounded vaguely like a combination of the words "Oh," and "Wait!" so of course he did just that. Stopped and waited as Iris cleared her throat and made sure she was sitting up straight.

"Well, I'm nineteen which I'm pretty sure you already know. I graduated from Augusta High School last year, still haven't looked at colleges yet even though my dad keeps telling me to. My last panic attack was two months ago today, which is pretty cool. Oh, and please don't tell him, but I really, really, really don't like my younger brother, Mark."

Achterberg's ears perked up at that last one. "Why is that? I'm guessing this goes a little deeper than say, a sibling rivalry?"

"Much. It's, I don't know. We just can't get along. Every time, every single time we have a conversation, it turns into an argument no matter the topic. It's gotten so bad that I've started to have nightmares with him in them."

"To what capacity is he in these nightmares?"

"He's Satan. He's in control of everything and uses that power to torture me."

"Interesting," he said, scribbling something down on a sheet of paper on his desk.

"That means I'm afraid of him, right? That I hate him? Is that what the dream means?"

"Dream interpretation isn't very credible, Iris. It could very well mean nothing."

With that bit of possible reassurance, Iris settled down. Her eyes still flashed with worry but it wasn't reflected in her face anymore which was in some respects a success. Achterberg sighed and leaned back in his leather swivel chair, placing an elbow on the arm of the chair and propping his head up with his hand.

"Is there anything else you feel I should know?"

"Yeah," she said in a low whisper that Achterberg had to lean closer to her in order to hear. "I think I might be a cannibalistic serial killer."

"What?" he asked, gripping onto the arms of his chair to ensure he wouldn't fall off it with how violently he jumped back. His eyes were wide with shock and unsure whether he should be frightened or repulsed.

"Okay, good. You are listening."

---

"Yeah mom, the flight was fine. No, I didn't get robbed and no, I haven't bought any drugs."

Iris' voice radiated with minor frustration as she fussed with the floral patterned necktie around her neck. There was no real reason for her to be wearing it, considering she was dressed in a T-Shirt and jeans otherwise but she felt it had fit. So, with her cell phone tucked between her right ear and right shoulder, she tightened it as tight as it could get without choking herself.

"Yeah, look I have an interview soon and the guy should be here any second so I'll call you back after that. Of course I won't let him touch me. No, not even for twenty bucks. Okay, love you too."

And with that, she pressed the end call button and slid the phone into her back pocket, just in time to hear a knock at the door. She took a deep breath and made her way over to the door and pulled it open, where none other than Steve Sayors was standing in the doorway, followed closely by a large Mexican camera guy with a name tag reading "Rudy".

"Hello, my name is Steve Sayors and you must be--"

"Iris Oppenheimer, Mr. Sayors. Pleasure to meet you."

"So, do you just want to get down to business?"

"Yes please."

"Very well. Rudy?"

Rudy didn't say anything because it wasn't his job to talk, instead he gave Steve a thumbs up and he turned around to face the big man, standing shoulder to shoulder with Iris. She felt a little too close to the man she just met, but didn't want to say anything with the camera on.

"Hello, XWF! I am Steve Sayors here with Iris Oppen-- what was it again?"

"Iris Oppenheimer."

"Yeah that. One of XWF's newest acquisitions who's booked this week against Jack. Now, Iris, Jack has had some words for you earlier this week. What do you have to say in response to that?"

"Well, he obviously has the right to say whatever we wishes about me. However, much of it is rather inaccurate and seems like a hasty conclusion as to the type of person I am. Which is kind of a rude thing to do, judging people before getting to know them and all. I wouldn't expect that from someone like Jack but it happened which is greatly disappointing."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, Steve. He's said I'm delusional and have no control over my mind. That my views are incapable of becoming true. And to that, I have one question to ask Jack in response. Just one. What makes professional wrestling any different from any other business? Not in the obvious sense, because there are quite a few of those. I mean on a philosophical level. Getting along is impossible, eh? Why? Every other legitimate business can be conducted without scheming to kill one another. Without cheating each other out of stuff and certainly without the lack of civility you claim is unavoidable in this business. So, what makes wrestling different? The fact that it's a competition? In a way, every job is a competition. You're competing with your fellow workers to do the job better to ensure you get to keep doing it when budget cuts come around. That there are some less than reputable people employed by the XWF? That's a problem with people, not the business.

As for the concept that making friends in this business is an impossibility, all I need to do to disprove it is point at the existence of the tag and trios championships. By design, they're made for partnerships and to trust someone to win a title with you, you might as well be friends with the person too. It's human nature to want to belong, to make friends. A business cannot change human nature. No matter what you want to claim. I'm sure you're a great person, Jack. You and all your followers but I can't help but fell you're jumping to a hasty conclusion after being betrayed by one person. That's no reason to be so cynical. Cynicism is unhealthy. Please, snap out of it and look at things on the bright side. You'll be much happier if you do!

I think that's all that needs be said to Jack, Steve. Is that all?"

"Well, you did touch on most of my questions, so yes. Iris Oppenheimer, everyone."

And with that, Rudy turns off the camera.