"So," Vincent began as he reclined in his chair and crossed his legs at the knees, "you seem to have a pattern of choosing the wrong kind of men." Clicking his ink pen and putting it to the yellow legal pad, "Tell me why that is. Where do you believe it stems from?"

Cami rolled her eyes and arched her brows with an uncomfortable chuckle. "Ah. I wish I knew." She laced her fingers and cupped her knee with her hands. "Then maybe I wouldn't be doomed to repeat the pattern." She cast a glance at her therapy advisor, hoping, but knowing the nondescript answer would not suffice. When Vincent remained silent but only gave her a smile she continued. "I like tattoos and motorcycles?" She offered. "You're deflecting with humor, Cami" Vincent prodded. "If you can't open up..." "I know," Cami interrupted. "If I can't open up to you, how can I expect my patients to open up to me."

Cami answered as she inspected her nails. "My first boyfriend, Andrew." She took a deep breath, "He was a good guy. Or so I believed. He lived at the St. Mary's home for boys. He was...charismatic, and good looking. Funny and artistic. And...he broke my heart." She paused in silent reverie, "He was sent to live at the home as a last ditch effort to reform him. He came from a single family home with no real male role models, at least no good ones. You know. His mom had a string of men she dated but none that stuck around long enough to care about Andrew or show him right from wrong. And he fell in with the wrong crowd. He ended up in juvie before he even started high school. The state put him in a foster home. Foster homes." She corrected, "And nothing seemed to work. I met him at an outreach my Gramma was part of. She would collect clothes, hygiene products, school supplies and gifts from the church parishioners for the home. Around the holidays they would throw a party for the kids and that's where I met him." Cami stood and began to aimlessly walk around Vincent's office, studying the framed degrees with little interest. "For while it really seemed like the home and the programs he was part of were helping him. He was doing well in school and we were dating and...we loved each other." Turing a brass paperweight over and replacing it on the shelf, Cami took a breath as she recalled the memories, "Then he was returned home. Soon enough he was hanging out with his old friends. They got caught stealing from a couple local businesses and this time he was old enough to do time. We wrote letters and I visited him every week. Of course, from inside he was sorry and repentant. He promised me and everyone else that he had changed. But it didn't take long once he was out for him to forget the promises he made." Cami looked up, surprised she had said so much and smoothing her skirt under her legs she sat back down. "I thought I could change him. That if he had someone who believed in him, he could believe in himself." She shrugged, the conclusion forgone.

Vincent lifted his pen and tapped it in the palm of his hand. "Well, it certainly does fit the pattern." He gave her a friendly but smug smile. "Tell me, Cami. Did it work? Did Andrew ever change? Did he find his redemption?" She shook her head and looked down but when she looked back up, the mask was back in place and her green eyes shone as she smiled. "So, next week? Same time?" she asked, standing and pulling the strap of her bag on her shoulder.