Textbook Narcissism

Jessica steps into Dr. Crawford’s office for the first time. She tells the older woman she wants help with her so-called superiority complex—not because it shames her, but because it’s torching real relationships. Dr. Crawford nods like she’s listening, yet already she’s sizing Jessica up, wondering how to steer the girl’s ego for her own gain. By the fourth appointment, Dr. Crawford claims they’re making progress. She says today is the “big breakthrough,” and asks if Jessica’s ready. Jessica shrugs, game for whatever’s next. That’s when Dr. Crawford drops the act: she confesses she’s got the same high-and-mighty streak—and she revels in it. Jessica blinks, half stunned, half hooked. The doctor moves in close, fingers brushing a strand of hair off Jessica’s cheek, and declares she sees her younger self sitting there. All Jessica has to do is forget those burned bridges. Friends? Family? Expendable. From a drawer the therapist pulls matching blouse and pencil skirt—the same crisp outfit she wears. Jessica takes them, letting the borrowed blouse slide off her shoulders as new fabric glides on. The zipper of the skirt whispers up her spine. Dr. Crawford’s breath warms Jessica’s neck while she guides the tailored clothes into place, every touch deliberate. Glasses come next, then a twist that lifts Jessica’s hair into the same sleek twist. Side-by-side in the mirror, the resemblance is dizzying. Same cheekbones. Same knowing smirk. Dr. Crawford meets Jessica’s eyes. “We don’t need anyone else,” she purrs, her hand resting possessively at Jessica’s waist. “Just us.”