when the insane strike back 2

"have you ever tried scream therapy?" only her eyes peaked at him. she was sitting on her bed, engulfed by her duvet.
"ummm, no. "
"there's sarcasm in your voice."
"why, yes dr. there is, how perceptive of you." she reached for her bottle. "look, doc, i know you think i'm crazy," she said, quotation marking the word crazy, "but i don't..." she struggled for words. "i don't need to scream, or to, i don't know, i don't do screaming. stop trying to push me to the egde!"
"is that what you think i'm doing?"
"yes. i feel that you want me to act out so you can justify to yourself that i'm insane... if i show the markings of a crazy person, then you win! and you get to gloat, and, fucking, be all high and mighty. and i won't. i'm not going to submit to this, test."
"it's not a test. i think you're holding in. i think you need a proper outlet to let all this, anger, and anxiety and fear out."
"i don't have these things! why won't you believe me?! i've been telling you for weeks that i'm not crazy, and i don't have any sort of complex, or anything wrong with me. i just have a funky lifestyle. i don't know why you won't accept it. i think you're the one with the problems. all you doctors, you have this skewed view of the world, where everyone has some crisis in their lives, or some mental defect, and basically we're all broken, and we need meds and therapy to mend our cracks. but it's not the case! i'm not broken!" in the course of her speech, her voice had risen and she had become upset. he just stared at her. his look was one of understanding, but he was patronizing her at the same time.