Around seven, Dolores shakes the Misses awake. The Miss throws her arm forward and halts scant inches away from Dolores' throat. Izo sleepily says, “Dolores, I just got home last night. I’m taking a day off, today. Let me sleep in.”

Izo firmly grabs her covers to pull them back up, but Dolores refuses to give up. “Miss, you have an appointment with Dr. Anderson in an hour. Get up,” Dolores sternly said as she wretched the covers out of the Izo’s grasp.

Whilst Izo headed to the showers, Dolores makes the bed. Usually, Dolores didn’t do so, but as an apology, she would do so today. The young Miss had said, that making her bed was a responsibility she could oversee herself. Dolores couldn’t argue back, but on occasions like these, she was able to fulfill her proper duty herself.

*

Izo breathes in and out as she calmed herself in the shower. Izo had almost killed Dolores by chanting a spell from the past, “Mrt d’ Ison Spada,” that was the name of the spell. Killing Grendel had brought back unpleasant memories of the past. That spell had accidentally been taught by her friend, a Demon sorcerer. While in the drunken stupor, the Demon sorcerer had explained that it was a forbidden spell. Not because of what it did, but rather the price the spell demanded from the caster. One’s life must be an inch from death before the spell can be cast. “Mrt d’ Ison Spada,” was poisonous miasma that concentrated into form via mana. The receiver of the spell died instantly from the wounds but from the poison.

But Izo had been wrong about her friend. The demon sorcerer had attacked her and caught her by surprise. Having her eyes gouged out and about to be sacrificed, Izo had cast the spell and survived. That day only one of them left the sacrificial pyre alive. That was the last time, Izo ever made a friend and from then on, she remained a perpetual loner until she became strong enough to defeat the demon king.

Blowing air forcefully through her nose, Izo relaxes her tense shoulders. And decides to pencil in a new rule for her own sanity and Dolores sake. It was to be added to the roommate covenant list.

Thou shalt not steal, touch, nor covet thine roommate’s items or labeled food except upon asking and receiving permission. Thou shalt not borrow money without paying promptly paying it back. Thou shall respect the roommate code, friendship over the D or P. Thou shall respect decent sleeping hours during work days. Thou shall clean up thine own junk, dishes or otherwise. And thou shalt not kill thine roommate!

Izo remains standing still under the water until it begins running cold. Feeling calmer, Izo steps out and dries herself. Pausing to only glance at her watch on the bathroom counter, she hastily begins to dress. It wouldn’t do to be late with Dr. Anderson. Dr. Anderson believed that tardiness was a sign of emotional turmoil.

*

Dr. Anderson opens her folder on Izo Reed. The poor girl had shown remarkable signs of trauma, but mostly Izo did not like going into details about the trauma. Dr. Anderson would have preferred that be the case, but she was not going to force a patient into anything, they weren’t ready for. But bitterness and pain always managed to slip into their conversations confirming Dr. Anderson’s beliefs. From the tidbits disclosed and from the corpses autopsy, Dr. Anderson was aware of the kind of damage that been done.

However, Izo was surprisingly healthy in other aspects. Though cautious and wary of others, Izo did not have many distrust issues as one would think. She had a healthy rather trusting relationship with her caretaker, whom Izo considered her friend and roommate, Dolores. Despite the differences in age, the two women got along surprisingly well. And even the relationship between Izo and her parents was improving by leaps and bounds.

Dr. Anderson had received two excited phone calls from Mr. Lee. One that, his daughter had begun to call them father and mother in her own endearing way. And that, Izo had finally asked them for help. Slowly, but surely Izo was making connections with her parents. Dr. Anderson’s hope was that one day her patient would reach the point where Izo could communicate properly with them.

A knock is heard at the door interrupting Dr. Anderson out of her thoughts. She swiftly closes the folder and says, “Come in, please. The door is open.”

A tall, but still too slender young woman softly enters and closes the door behind her. Dr. Anderson smiles and says, “What will it be today, Izo, the couch or the arm-chair?”

Izo pointedly seats herself in the arm-chair, Dr. Anderson, in turn, rose to her feet and seats herself across from the patient. Dr. Anderson takes the small notebook and pen from the lampstand at her chair’s side. “So how are you, today, Izo?” Dr. Anderson warmly asked.

“Tired,” Izo grumbled.

Dr. Anderson smiles and says, “Yes, it is rather early. I heard that you just came back from a dungeon, how was that?”

“Rather fun, it was a challenge,” Izo honestly said with traces of a smile on her face.

“How wonderful. Have you made any friends?” Dr. Anderson curiously asked.

“Actually, yes. Sara and Valentine. By the way, Valentine is a male. Anyway, they’re my age and we even hung out for the first time not too long ago. We’ve made plans to hang out in the next day or so,” Izo rather cheerfully said.

“How delightful, tell me more about them,” Dr. Anderson said as she patiently listened to Izo enthusiastically described them to her. With a smile, she watched as Izo’s face became animated in describing her new-found friends. It always felt good to watch and see a patient take a big step in improving their lives for the better.

After that topic is exhausted, Dr. Anderson moves on to ask, “Anything else happening in your life, Izo?”

“I’m starting a business venture,” Izo firmly answers.

“Really?” Dr. Anderson said rather startled, before adding, “Are you ready to step out in public and face the public eye and the possibility of failure?”

“Yes, I have carefully considered my options and decided the best course of action. I don’t believe my business will fail, but either way, I want to try,” Izo firmly stated.

Dr. Anderson kindly says, “I just want to remind you to be aware of all the consequences that are associated with such a decision. But more importantly, I want to ask, do you think you are ready to face the public view?

Let’s say, you do become a success, the media will be after you. Can you face the press? And will you stand firm, when the inevitable questions are asked about whether you are Izo Lee? Izo, are you ready to face such a actions?”

“Yes,” the reply came without hesitation causing Dr. Anderson’s eyes to widen in amazement. Izo maintains her composure at the question and continues, “I have already dwelt with that question twice before and to be honest I don’t feel much of anything. Because I am Izo Reed, not Izo Lee.”

Dr. Anderson quickly jolts that response in her notebook, before closing it shut. “Well, that’s all for today. Do you want to discuss something more or are you ready to go and eat breakfast?” Dr. Anderson asked as Izo’s stomach growls loudly.

They both stare at each other for a moment, before laughing. “Well, I guess that answers, that. I’ll see you again in a month, Izo,” Dr. Anderson said as she rose to her feet and opens the door for Izo to depart. She softly closes the door behind her and walks back to her desk.

The last comment slightly perturbs, Dr. Anderson. It wasn’t that Izo was dissociating herself, but rather it was if she was throwing the past, no, the identity of Izo Lee away. Rather Izo saw herself as Izo Reed, rather than Izo Lee.

Mentally, speaking that wasn’t necessarily a problem, but it may cause further issues to crop up between the parent and child relationship. Mr. and Mrs. Lee are expecting their child to one day retake her original name. But if the child in question, doesn’t want to, will that further strain the relationship or bring them closer together in acceptance that their child is trying to be independent? With a sigh, Dr. Anderson quickly jots down her notes. Before too long, a knock is heard signaling her next patient. Closing the folder, she tucks the folder into her desk, before saying, “The door is open, please come in.”