Already her office was decorated to her liking, the stiff chairs were replaced with comfortable bean bags, pictures lined the walls as well as Harry Potter posters, there was a book shelf full of books for her patients to read, there were fresh flowers sitting on her desk, and there was art supplies tucked away in the corner, and even the blinds had been changed to simple gray curtains. It certainly didn’t look like an office at a mental institute. Well Grace didn’t look like a doctor at all. Standing at 5’4, the black haired woman could pass for a teenager. With wide green eyes she took in her office; as disjointed as everything was there was something about the room that was calming. Perhaps it was even Grace herself. The woman was comfortable in this new environment. Her husband had been worried; Mark was always the one to worry for the both of them. 
Grace was childish in her ways, often going out of her way to make someone laugh at a joke a five year old would laugh at.

On her desk was a framed photo of herself, her husband and her sister. After their parents died Abigail came to live with Grace and Mark. It was perfect, up until Abigail started to assert her independence. She was sixteen, it was understandable but she was still Grace’s little sister. At the age of twenty eight Grace did not see herself as a surrogate to her half-sister. She did not see herself with such a happy life, as a teenager Grace had hit a rough patch that involved the wrong crowd and everything else that came with being stuck between a child and adult. 

The staff here was nice as were the patients, today she’d be meeting Emma. Already having a file on the girl, complete with notes of horrible doctor handwriting, Grace could tell that this case was going to be different. When the door opened and a tony voice echoed through her office, the woman’s face brightened as she welcomed Emma. “Yes come in!” Grace pulled a bean bag across the floor so they could sit close enough to talk. 

“I am Dr. Matthews, but please just call me Grace.” She said, taking a seat in a lime green bean bag chair with her clipboard resting on her lap. “Please have a seat Emma.” While Grace was mostly fun she could be work as well. “So tell me…what did you [i]really[/i] think about your last doctor? Was he a total prick like the staff said?” Leaning forward to hear the girl better, Grace was quietly observing her mannerisms. For someone with PTSD Emma didn’t seem to be as ‘ill’ as the notes said she was. Grace hated to label others but in her line of work it was needed. That didn’t mean that she could label them all basket cases and call it good. No she needed to get to know them on a personal level in order to understand them and their condition. 
Not everyone was the textbook example of mental illnesses. 

---

Abigail was home sick today with a stomach ache and slight fever. She wished that her sister and her brother-in-law wouldn’t treat her like a baby. She knew that it had only been a few years since the accident that killed her parents, the same accident that had put Abigail in a coma for a week. The same accident that had taken a large part of her heart was also the same accident that led to its mending. Without her sister she probably would have killed herself.

Grace and Mark were so welcoming, sometimes Abigail felt like a burden to them but her sister reassured her that she wasn’t. Often she would hear them both talking about something more than just a dog and cat, whom she helped name. Crookshanks has been a kitten when Abigail first moved in, a tiny nameless orange kitten. Blue was a different story that was her sister’s baby.

She was worried that once they would become parents it meant that Abigail would be on the streets. The blonde girl sighed; she looked so different from her petite black haired sister. Being quite tall and a bit on the willowy side, Abigail took more after their late father. She wore simple flannel pajama pants and an oversized green t-shirt, one that complimented her emerald eyes. Getting up and venturing to Mark’s office she yawned. 
Mark had been part of the family long before he married Grace and he had always been a brother figure to Abigail. She first met Mark when she was only four years old—twelve years ago—then he had been a friend of Grace’s. Of course it wasn’t until a few years ago when they became a couple and married. 

“Hey big brother,” Abigail said, using the nickname that she’d given the man years ago. “Wanna make me some soup or something? Remember the last time I tried to cook?” Who wouldn’t? She almost burnt the house down!

With Grace gone to work for the first time since their parents died, Abigail was feeling lonely.

Was this what it could it be like if there was a new person in the family?