So this was supposed to be a one chapter story but I'm gonna divide it into the four parts the story of originally divded into. So anyways, that's why this is coming up so fast, it's not an actual chapter it's just the continuation of the story. Let me know what you think alright?

Hope you enjoy,

-> Desyre

                There was a persistent ringing in my dreams and suddenly it registered that the ringing wasn’t a dream, that it was real. My eyes snapped open and I sat straight in my bed, feeling disoriented. Why had I woken up? The ringing. My doorbell was ringing. I got out of my bed and quickly walked through my dark, dusty house to the door. I peeked through the dirty windows and felt confused. I went to open my door, the frown having settled in my forehead already.

“Hi.” Shel smiled at me and I just felt my eyebrows come closer together. What was he doing here? Hadn’t his job of reporting back to the doctor ended already? “Oh. Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No, this is how I normally look.” I answered annoyed. It was like five in the morning, what was he doing here?

                Shel chuckled and smiled at me apologetically.

“Sorry, I tend to forget that people don’t get up as early as I normally do.” Shel said still smiling.

                I squinted at him. I’d had to wake up early back in that place as well, was that what this was about? Was he reporting to my doctor that I wasn’t keeping the habits that I was supposed to keep when they released me?

“Don’t worry, I was about to wake up anyways.” I lied. “So… Was there anything you needed?”

“Oh, right. No, I don’t need anything, actually I was here to ask you if you needed anything.” Shel said smiling.

                I felt lost and confused right then. He wanted to know if I needed anything. Why would I need something?

“You know, with your house or something.” Shel said when he noticed I wasn’t understanding.

                With my house? What did my house…? Oh. The rotten wood, dirty and broken windows, chipped paint, my dusty belongings, and the whole graffiti deco.

“Oh, yeah.” I said telling him that I’d understood. “No, don’t worry I’m alright.”

                Shel frowned then and tilted his head to the side, and I couldn’t help but think that he looked like a dog. A very adorable dog. An adorable dog that was reporting back to my doctor.

“But…” Shel said looking around at the still dusty inside of my house. “Are you sure? It looks like a lot.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I can handle it.” I said swallowing my annoyance so he could report back to my doctor that I was behaving civilly.

“But you haven’t done anything, and it’s been a week.” Shel said looking confused again.

                My anger grew inside me. He’d been watching me. He’d been watching me and reporting to my doctor that I hadn’t even paid the light bill of my house. I swallowed my anger and decided to play along.

“Fine, you caught me.” I said sighing and sounding defeated. “The truth is it really is a bit too much and I’m kind of a slow worker. So far I’ve only managed to clean my room and my bathroom. But I didn’t want to abuse of your kindness and ask for help either.”

                Which was true enough since I needed my room to be clean so I could sleep there and I couldn’t handle seeing the stains in the floor of my bathroom.

“Oh.” Shel said understanding dawning on his face before it broke into a smile. “It’s alright. I’m here whenever you need me, we’re neighbors for God’s sake, there’s no need to be a stranger.”

“Thanks.” I said faking a small smile for him to report back to my doctor.

“So what do you need?” Shel said before he walked right past me and into my house.

                I could do nothing more than stand there watching as he stepped into my house uninvited. I told myself that it was a test. It was all a test and I needed to pass it. After all today was the day I was supposed to go to my first appointment with my doctor since they released me.

“Well, I just need the help, I have everything we need.” I said closing the door behind me.

“Alright then, where’s the vacuum?” Shel asked sounding eager.

“Vacuum?” I asked feeling lost. I’d cleaned my room and bathroom with a duster, a broom, a brush, and a rag.

“Yeah. To vacuum all the dust.” Shel said developing a little more, probably hoping that I’d understand.

“I don’t have a vacuum.” I said stupidly.

“So… how did you plan to clean all this?” Shel asked sounding confused and looking once more like a lost puppy.

“I have a duster.” I said hoping understanding would dawn on him again.

“You have a duster.” He repeated. “A duster. You plan to clean all this with a duster?”

“Well… yeah?” I answered sounding unsure. The truth was that I wasn’t planning on cleaning any of this.

                Shel just looked at me before he shook his head.

“Wait here. I’ll bring my vacuum and we’ll get started.” Shel said already going to walk right past me again.

“But I don’t have electricity.” I said before he could take more than two steps and he was already next to me. This guy really did have long legs.

“You don’t have electricity?” He said looking at me incredulous. “Why don’t you have electricity?”

                I was a little confused. If he was watching me he should’ve known that I hadn’t paid the light bill of the house yet, so why was he acting like he didn’t know? Maybe he wanted to get more info out of me?

“I don’t remember where I left my wallet so I haven’t been able to pay the bill.” I said in a small voice, pretending to be ashamed.

“Oh, it’s alright. It’s alright, Cal.” Shel said as he came over to where I was standing and put his arm around me. “I’ll help you look for it, it’s alright.”

                I felt a shiver go through my body before I could stop it. Something about having him this close to me made my stomach fill with butterflies and my heart beat faster. I told myself I was being stupid, this guy was reporting back to my doctor, but my body simply wouldn’t listen to me. I was divided between the urge to get away from him and the one to let him comfort me. I shouldn’t feel like this. Look how the last time ended up. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. I gently pulled away so he could report back that I was letting myself be comforted now, and faked another smile.

“Thanks.” I said keeping the small smile before I let it slip. “It’s just been a lot since I’ve been here, I don’t remember where I last placed it.”

“Alright, tell you what. I’ll search down here and you search the second floor.” Shel said smiling reassuringly at me.

                I nodded and we separated. I went up the stairs and moved stuff around just to make it sound like I was searching. I knew where my wallet was. It was in the drawer of the table that stood by the door. I always put it there just in case I needed to leave the house in a rush so I knew where to find it. I was just waiting for him to find it.

“Found it!” I heard Shel yell from the first floor.

                I went down the stairs and found him smiling, offering my wallet to me.

“Here you go. Why don’t you shower and I’ll accompany you to pay the bills?” Shel said after I’d taken my wallet.

I wanted to sigh but I fought the urge to do so. All I really wanted was to be alone but it seemed today Shel was going to be staying with me.

“Alright.” I said faking another smile. “Wait down here, I’ll get ready as quickly as I can.”

                I went back up stairs and stepped into my bathroom. The smell of bleach and detergent was still strong in the air and I was nearly sick. I wanted to just skip the shower altogether but I didn’t want Shel to report back to my doctor that I’d gone out of the house without showering. He’d probably see that as a sign of depression. I was a loner not a chronic depressed. But then again he was a shrink and shrinks only saw what they wanted to see. I opened the window and stepped into the shower, hoping the water and the fresh air would help the stench some. It almost reminded me of the smell of that place. A shiver went through my body, and I told myself that I needed to get my thoughts together.

                Less than half an hour later I was going down the stairs in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. I felt uncomfortable even though they were supposed to be my own clothes. I hadn’t noticed before just how much weight I’d lost in that place. It’s for your own good. How could it be for my own good when I lost about 30 pounds in a month and a half?

“I’m ready. Sorry I took so long.” I said stepping back into the first floor.

                Shel turned around from where he’d been looking at the few pictures that were hung in my walls and decorated my libraries. My stomach clenched and I remembered suddenly that I had to throw those pictures away. Well, it didn’t really matter if I did or didn’t, I wasn’t going to be here for much longer after all. But right then, I wished I’d thrown the damn pictures away. Shel looked… different. It was a mixture between hurt, sadness, and surprise or confusion.

“Hey. It’s alright, I didn’t really notice.” Shel said in a small voice.

“Right.” I said a little lost about his attitude. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.” Shel said managing a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

                About two hours later we returned to the house and saw the lights on. I’d forgotten I’d left the lights on when it happened. Well, it was a good way to know that the electricity had returned. The light in the house offered a better look of the dusty inside. And the stains I’d missed on the floor. I felt my face heat with shame. The stains were there, plain as day, a very dark shade of red that looked almost purple, and stood stark against the pale color of the rug. Getting stains out of tile was one thing, but getting them out of rugs was another one entirely different. I was going to need to call a team of experts to clean the rugs. How was I going to explain the stains to them? Wine maybe? Did wine leave a stain that dark? Would they know it was blood?

“Wow.” Shel said and I cringed expecting a comment about the dark, obvious stains in the rug. “That’s a lot of dust.”

                I almost felt like laughing at the comment. Here I was worried about the stains and he was worried about the dust. Moreover, here I was worrying about stains that I wouldn’t be here to see soon enough.

“Yeah, I know.” I said sounding defeated just to keep up with the lie I’d said earlier.

“And you thought you’d clean all this with just a duster.” Shel said chuckling.

                He stepped into the house, vacuum already in hand.

“You take the duster and start cleaning the windows and other small objects. I’ll take the floor and furniture.”

                And just like that we started cleaning my house. I felt like sighing. I was just losing my time. Cleaning something I wouldn’t be here to care about. I cleaned the windows one by one, using the folding stairs I kept in the cupboard under the stairs. We worked in silence for a while, until suddenly Lady Gaga started playing through the house. I nearly fell from the stairs in fright. I turned and saw Shel standing in front of the stereo that I kept on a table in the living room and which hadn’t been used in about two years. It had been a gift from someone. I couldn’t remember from whom. My sister? From him? From some forgotten friend? I wasn’t sure.

                Shel turned and when he saw me looking at him, he smiled.

“I hope you don’t mind I plugged my mp3 player to your stereo. I work better with music.” Shel said happily, already dancing a little to the song.

“You can plug an mp3 player to that thing?” I asked stupidly.

                That told you how much I’d used the thing since I’d gotten it. I didn’t listen to music. Normally I didn’t anyways. And when I did I just put on the radio and tuned some radio station. That didn’t mean, though, that I didn’t know the first thing about music. I was a loner but I didn’t live under a rock. Plus, to be a writer I needed to know at least a little about the current world. I suddenly thought about my editor and about the forgotten computer in my also forgotten studio. I hadn’t checked my emails in more than a month. I wondered what my editor had thought about my sudden disappearance. I had told him it was that I wasn’t going to write anymore after I’d turned in my last book, though, so maybe he hadn’t minded? With the amounts of books I’d managed to write and sell he had to have more than enough to live comfortably for a while until he found a new ‘undiscovered gem’, as he liked to call his writers.

“Yeah.” Shel said chuckling before he went back to vacuuming.

                I really didn’t know why he’d insisted in music because the vacuum cleaner drowned it out without any effort. Then he stopped and went back the stereo turning up the volume before turning on the vacuum again, and this time the music could be heard over the noise of the vacuum.

“I live for the applause, applause, applause. I live for the applause-plause, live for the applause-plause.”

                I didn’t really like Lady Gaga. I thought she was just an attention whore looking for new ways to shock more people into thinking that she was original, but I couldn’t deny that her songs and lyrics were good, when they made sense.

“That’s smart.” I commented to myself as I listened to the lyrics of the song.

“What is?” Shel asked from the floor once more startling me.

                I was so lost in the lyrics and analyzing them that I hadn’t noticed the vacuum had turned off.

“The song.” I answered wondering how Shel had heard me over the music.

“What do you mean?” Shel said frowning and tilting his head a little.

“Well, she says she lives for the applause. Which is a way to say that she lives for her fans and to make them happy or make them applaud her. It’s the most honest comment I’ve ever heard about fame from an artist. Most people say they’re in ‘this’ for their parents, friends, the music, or something like that, but not many of them are able to admit they live to hear their fans applaud, which most of them do, since applauding is a way to demonstrate love towards a band or artist. She also admits she’s hooked on fame, which again, most artists are, and admits that the only way she’d ever be away from her fans would be if fame could be delivered through an IV. There is also a very clever play on words that goes unnoticed. She says one second she’s a kunst, and then the kunst is her. And then she says pop culture lived in art and that now art lives in pop culture, in her.” I analyzed out loud while I cleaned another window.

                When my comment was met by silence, I began feeling nervous. I knew that Shel was looking at me, but I wasn’t sure what he was thinking or why he wasn’t answering. I fought off a tremble and turned to look at Shel, who was just looking at me like I was the second coming or something.

“What’s a kunst?” He asked and his voice sounded awed.

“It’s the German word for art. So she basically says that one second she was art and then the art was her. And then she says that pop culture lived in art, her, but that now art lived in pop culture, which means she lives in pop culture.” I said not being able to stop myself from explaining.

                I chastised myself for not filtering my thoughts. This was exactly what made him run away. Shel hadn’t asked for my opinion on the song, or any of the other stuff I’d explained. I was once more letting my mouth run off. I just hoped that when he told the doctor about it, he didn’t think as badly about that trait of mine as he had.

“Oh.” Shel said simply.

“Sorry.” I said before going back to dusting windows.

“For what?” Shel asked sounding confused.

“For explaining all that. You didn’t ask me for my opinion or everything else I said. It’s a bad habit I have.” I said in a small voice, remembering what he always told me.

                You’re a smart ass. Cheeky. Know-it-all. You think the rest of the world isn’t as intelligent as you are and that you need to explain everything to everyone.

                I flinched even though I knew he wasn’t actually here and the words were just in my head. I didn’t think that. I didn’t feel superior to the rest of the world. I didn’t explain things with that purpose. I just put out all the information I had in my head when I explained stuff. I just wanted to share my knowledge and since I wasn’t sure if people knew about some things I just explained it all to save myself from the bother of having to ask. I should ask. It was what he had told me to do. But when I asked he got angry as well and told me that not everyone was as geeky as I was and that I couldn’t expect people to know everything that I knew. I never really could win with him, but I didn’t see that at the time. I just heard his words and let them eat at me slowly.

“But I did ask you for your opinion.” Shel said sounding even more confused.

“Alright.” I said simply, not wanting to get into this right now.

                The song had long since changed and I was listening to a male guy sing something about Grace Kelly, and colors, and Freddy.

“That guy is gay.” I said to myself.

“What guy?” Shel said peeking through the window. “Is he hot?”

                I could only blink at Shel. I had figured out a singer I had never met in my life was gay but hadn’t figured the neighbor I’d spent a few hours knowing was as well. I could sometimes be really dense.

“I meant the singer.” I explained simply.

“Oh.” Shel said chuckling. “I think he once said he’s label-free or something of the sort.”

“Well in that song he admitted he’s gay.” I said.

“Why?” Shel asked sounding confused.

“If you pay attention he mentioned all the rainbow colors. Directly he mentioned blue, violet, purple or indigo, and green. Brown can easily look like orange depending on the tone, though if that explanation sounds too forced he also mentioned sky, which can be seen to mean sun, which is both yellow and orange, and finally the girl said getting angry doesn’t solve anything and he implies he’s angry by telling the woman to walk out the door, and the color for anger is red. He also said that he’d tried Grace Kelly and now was trying a little Freddy, from Freddy Mercury, who is notoriously known for being gay.” I explained before I could filter my thoughts.

                I closed my eyes and groaned internally. I’d done it again. Why was it so hard to keep my damn mouth shut? How come I just couldn’t stop from babbling on and on about something when I wasn’t even asked? I should just stop talking altogether. I’d save the world a lot of sour moments.

“How do you know that?” Shel asked.

                I flinched. That was it. He was annoyed by my ranting and long explanations. Why did I care? I didn’t. I just didn’t want him to report something bad to my doctor. That was it. I cared about my own safety.

“I’m sorry.” I said again in a small voice. “I won’t do it again. I’ll just stop talking.”

“Why?” Shel asked sounding taken aback.

“Because I’m clearly annoying you.” I said suddenly getting a déjà vu. I always told him the same thing.

“Did I say that?” Shel asked sounding confused.

“No but you don’t need to say it.” I said going back to dusting windows.

“How can you assume something I haven’t said?” Shel asked sounding a little angry. “I haven’t said that you annoy me.”

“You haven’t said otherwise either.” I countered.

“Because you didn’t give me the chance.” Shel said sounding frustrated. “I really find the fact that you notice such little details and that you can analyze stuff so quickly amazing. I’m a big fan of both Mika and Lady Gaga and I hadn’t figured out half the stuff that you did in just thirty minutes.”

                I turned to look at him feeling lost. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. It was the first time I’d ever heard someone compliment me for the way my complicated and damaged brain worked. Most people thought I was weird, but here was Shel, saying I was amazing. I told myself it was all because of my doctor but that didn’t make sense. Why would he compliment me for my doctor’s sake? What did taking a compliment say about me?

“You should stop beating yourself up like that. You’re smart and know a lot of interesting stuff, you’re observant and analyze stuff quickly. They’re all good qualities some people wished they had.” Shel said smiling at me.

                I felt my face heat and decided to say nothing, instead I turned to keep on working on the windows. Shel and I continued to work on my house while more songs played, and sometimes, I made a comment loud enough that Shel would hear me and ask about it. I told myself that I did it by accident, but knew better. It was nice to be complimented, even if it was because a doctor told him to boost the depressed guy’s self-esteem.

                Hours later the first floor looked cleaner than it had ever looked, even when I was living in the house. I had about an hour to get ready for my doctor’s appointment and decided to turn down the offer to do the second floor now, telling Shel we’d do it tomorrow. When Shel left, the house went right back to feeling big and empty, lifeless, like it had always done since the day he left. I wasn’t completely sure how healthy living in the house you lived with your ex was, but I liked the house, I’d lived in it since before I met him. Why would I just give up on it because of him? But hadn’t I already given up on it? I would be gone in a while, leaving the house and its memories to be forgotten and lost. No. It was different. I wasn’t sure exactly how it was different, but I was sure it was. It had to be.

                I showered and dressed for the second time that day and left the house, locking it behind me. I walked through the streets, silently wondering what would happen in today’s appointment with my doctor. Our meetings had just mostly consisted of me telling him what he wanted to hear so I could get out of that prison, but I was free now and they had no legal right to stuff me back there. They’d already signed my release. They couldn’t take it back, even if I’d just been lying. But I decided to play it safe. I’d keep on pretending. I arrived to the building in which he held his sessions outside of that place. I had been infinitely glad when I heard I wouldn’t have to put one foot inside there again. If I never saw the place again, even in picture, I’d be a happy man.

                I stepped out of the elevator into the eighth floor and looked for the door 804. I rang the bell and a secretary let me in, smiling at me, a smile that had most probably been fixed on her face for a few years. She looked like a Barbie, only the smile looked a little more fake. I wondered if her cheeks had frozen in that position or if she was still fighting the pain and numbness that came from holding the muscles too much in a position. Did she get cramps in her cheeks when she stopped smiling at home? Was it even possible for the muscles in the cheeks to cramp? There were about 43 facial muscles, sometimes more, sometimes less, and I wasn’t completely sure how many muscles were involved in smiling. Could they cramp at the same time? Did they have different resistance to cramps? Did they cramp to begin with?

                I wanted to ask her if she’d ever experienced a cramp in her cheeks from too much smiling but it would be rude to imply that she smiled constantly at anyone, even when she didn’t feel like smiling. Instead I decided to ask for what I’d come here for in the first place.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Wheeler.” I said to the secretary.

“Dr. Wheeler is not taking patients anymore, his patients were moved to Dr. Folsom.” The secretary said looking up at me, still with the smile plastered in her face.

                My urge to ask her about cheek cramps was stumped out by this new information. Dr. Wheeler was not practicing anymore. I had a new doctor. A new doctor that knew nothing about me or about where I lived, or even who my neighbor was. But he had to have read Dr. Wheeler notes. He probably wrote my address and whatever had been reported back to him in those notes. I wanted to ask her then if Dr. Wheeler had left his notes behind for the new shrink but thought that it was smarter to ask that to the doctor in question.

“Well then I have an appointment with Dr. Folsom.” I said simply.

“I know.” The secretary said and through her smile I was able to see her annoyance at me telling her something she already knew. “Take a seat, the doctor should be shortly out, she said the appointment with her previous patient would extend a little.”

“Thanks.” I said simply, turning and sitting, a mixture of words running through my mind.

                You’re smart and know a lot of interesting stuff. You’re a smart ass. Cheeky. Know-it-all. They’re all good qualities that some people wish they had. You think the rest of the world isn’t as intelligent as you are and that you need to explain everything to everyone. You should stop beating yourself up like that. Which one was it? Which one did I believe? Which one was true?

“Mr. Day?” Said a feminine voice suddenly.

                I looked up and found a woman smiling at me. That’s right, the secretary said she instead of he. Dr. Folsom had long straight hair pulled back into a ponytail and glasses that made her eyes look bigger than they really were. She was blond and fair, her face covered in freckles from the exposure to the sun even though we lived in a state that barely saw it. Her smile looked genuine and patient but all psychologists looked like that. It was a trick they’d mastered back in college when they were begging their friends to let themselves be analyzed. Designed to calm and convince people.

“That’s me.” I said getting up.

“If you would please follow me.” She said simply knowing I would follow her. I had to. The agreement that I signed before being released required me to attend appointments once a week for three months and then however long the shrink thought I needed, if I needed extra sessions. It always amused me that shrinks decided the general standard for people to get cured was three months after being released. Why didn’t they change them according to the person? Did they think that all humans were the same? What happened to that thing about every brain functioning differently? Maybe humans beings are like cars, they look different on the outside but in the inside they’re all really the same.

“Take a seat wherever you like.” Dr. Folsom said waving an arm around the room.

                She had different places for people to seat. You could sit in the comfy poofs in one corner of the room, a pair of couches with a coffee table in between them, one of which was a long couch with a pillow on one side, the typical lay-down-while-we-shrink-your-head couch, and a desk with two chairs in front of it, and a few others stacked to one side, just in case she needed them. She would probably analyze whatever choice I made and conclude something about my personality and brain just by that. It really amazed me how small details that even I didn’t notice meant something for shrinks. I decided to go with the desk and chairs because it was the most comfortable option for a new meeting. We’d be face to face, she’d be able to watch me and I’d be able to watch her. I’d always thought the human face was like runes, you just needed to decipher them.

“Hmm.” I heard Dr. Folsom grunt, no doubt analyzing my choice and already making notes in her notebook.

“I know what you’re thinking.” I said as I watched her take the big rotating chair on the other side of the desk.

“Really?” She said smiling at me. “What am I thinking then?”

“You’re probably thinking that I chose the chairs and desk because I’m obsessed with control, or am anal about order and strictness. You think I don’t allow myself to sit in the comfy poofs or the laid back couches, instead sticking to what I know and can control.” I said simply.

                I noticed that through her easy smile there was small evidence of surprise.

“And it’s not like that?” She asked ambiguously.

“No. I chose the chairs and desk because of logic really. I don’t know you and you don’t know me there is no better way to get to know a person than to talk to them face to face. For example, I know that you were surprised that I was able to guess what you were thinking. And right now you’re surprised that I noticed I surprised you.” I said feeling a little smug, but deciding against letting it show in my face. That might land me in the hospital again.

“The poofs and couches allowed that option as well.” She answered her smile widening, thinking she’d caught the lie on me.

“Not really. If I, for example, choose to lie back on the poof you wouldn’t be able to see my face clearly, and in the couch I can easily turn around, change position to look somewhere else, or maybe even lay down if I feel like it. I might sit straight and stay straight in a poof or couch, but those would be signs of obsessive need for formality and control, which I don’t have or like. In fact I’m only dressed the way I am because I was going to meet a doctor, otherwise I would’ve dressed in more comfy clothes. But since you’re a doctor and are due respect I decided to dress in less comfy clothes just out of common courtesy.” I said shrugging.

“There is no need to dress in any way. You can dress in whatever way you want to come here.” Dr. Folsom said.

“Really? So you wouldn’t complain if I came here in sweats, flip-flops, and shirt that used to be white but now is a clear shade of brown that looks a lot like beige but darker?” I asked sarcastically.

“Well…” Dr. Folsom said her face scrunching up.

“See? It’s like going to a wedding in jeans and a t-shirt. Nobody says you need to wear a suit or a nice dress to a wedding but you still do out of logic and common courtesy.” I said shrugging once again.

“Since we’re talking about common courtesy, don’t you think its common courtesy to be nice to people?” Dr. Folsom asked still smiling though I could read the message as clear as day. She thought I was being rude. I almost snorted.

“Of course, but it’s also common courtesy to be honest, as is to accept when one is wrong too.” I said. Two could play that game.

“You’re obviously very intelligent.” Dr. Folsom commented instead.

“I know. I’m above average.” I said shrugging. It was common knowledge among my shrinks.

“Oh?” Dr. Folsom said arching her eyebrows. “And what makes you think that?”

“The IQ test I took when I was about seven or six.” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s in my psychological file, the one you have in one side of your desk.”

                I looked pointedly at the familiar folder on one side of the table, put there probably casually and forgotten promptly afterwards.

“How do you…?” Dr. Folsom started to say her smile faltering.

“You’re not my first shrink.” I said simply. “If you had read it you’d know that my IQ is 136 and could probably be higher if it wasn’t because I was being a brat and refusing to cooperate for a big part of the test.”

“I hadn’t read it because I like to go over it with my patients.” Dr. Folsom said with a slight note of defensiveness.

“No need to explain yourself to me. You’re the shrink, you’re in charge here.” I said more to her benefit than for anything else. I didn’t want her to be on edge around me; that would mean she didn’t trust me, which may land me with extra sessions or maybe even back in that prison.

“That’s right.” Dr. Folsom said softly. “That’s right.” She repeated more firmly.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked faking a smile to get her to relax again.

“What may that be?” Dr. Folsom asked smiling back.

“Why did Dr. Wheeler stop practicing?” I asked easily, hoping the question sounded casual.

“Oh, because they found he practiced some… questionable methods on his patients.” Dr. Folsom said as she started looking through my psychological file.

“Oh? What type of questionable methods?” I asked still going with the casual tone.

“Spying on his patients, prescribing unnecessary medicaments to them, and other methods to make them cooperate with him.” Dr. Folsom said distractedly.

                I knew it. I knew those pills were weird. Good thing I never really took them. I just stuffed them wherever I could, or flushed them down the toilet.

“Where is he right now?” I asked. If the psychopath wasn’t in jail I’d get him there even if it was the last thing I did.

“In a cozy jail, playing hide the soap, I presume.” Dr. Folsom said with a sneer.

                That was all that I needed to know. This woman wasn’t with him. I could trust her. It felt more than a little liberating to know that I could finally trust someone. She was someone with the power to send me back into that nut house with just a word, it wasn’t easy to trust someone like that with your deepest, darkest secrets. There was just one more thing that I wanted to know.

“Do you believe he deserves being in jail?” I asked casually.

“I’m sure you’re no stranger to what he did to his patients in Saint Giuseppe Moscati, Mental Hospital, Calvin, so why are you playing dumb now?” Dr. Folsom asked sighing and looking up at me, her smile gone. “He drugged, electrocuted, withheld food for days, spied, and verbally and physically abused his patients. Yes. I think he deserves to be in jail. In fact I think he deserves to die for leaving his patients worse off than they were in the beginning and even being responsible for some of their deaths, but that is just something in which the major of this state and I differ.”

                I could only stare at her. I thought I was the one in power here but I wondered suddenly if it had all been a trick.

“It wasn’t all a lie. I am a little… edgy around Wheeler’s patients and I have to admit that at the beginning of this appointment I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from you. But you were honest with me, not believing in false pretenses of saving your opinion in order to keep from hurting others, and I thought that the best way to deal with you was with honesty. I’m not Dr. Wheeler, Calvin. I do not spy on my patients, I don’t drug them, and I don’t verbally and physically abuse them, and I have no power to keep you from eating, not that I would do it, mind you. I’m Dr. Folsom, married mother of two kids, one of which went through a suicidal phase, and the second of which is a diagnosed OCD. You can trust me. Can you say the same about yourself?”

                I had to try a few times before I actually managed to talk. I had mixture of feelings, first of which was anxiety and nervousness about the fact that she had managed to read me completely. Something about that just didn’t sit well with me. People weren’t able to read me, I never let them. I was like a country closed off with high, impenetrable walls that let nothing in and nothing out. The last time I’d let someone in he’d set fire to my city while he sang and played the lyre like Nero did. The second was a small flash of panic and relief of hearing that someone finally knew what Wheeler did to us while we were in the hospital. Yet in some small part of my mind there was still a small fear that Wheeler was still watching me, waiting for the moment I let my guard down to grab me and send me to the small room, without anything but water for a week. Then there was a huge urge to cry. I could trust her. I had figured I could but hearing her say it made me feel… free? I didn’t know quite how to explain it. I imagined it to be something like how Atlas would feel if someone took off the world from his shoulders. I swallowed everything down telling myself I would not cry.

“Yes.” I said my voice breaking. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yes. You can trust me.”

                The second time my voice came out sounding more like my own.

“Alright, tell you what then, I promise to be completely honest with you if you promise me the same thing.” Dr. Folsom said looking me right in the eyes.

                I felt vulnerable, like I was naked in front of her, like I was a clear glass and she could see right through me. I wanted her to stop looking at me and at the same time didn’t.

“Deal.” I said looking right back into her eyes, reading her emotions in there.

                She felt just like me. Anxious. Nervous. Vulnerable. But she was keeping herself open for me, because she had nothing to hide. Because I could trust her. It was a nice change from the blank eyes of Dr. Wheeler.