Suggestion by @MissAmberV

Two men sat at a table whilst another two stood at the door. Three of the men in the room were superiors, whilst one was not.

The rain that fell from skies, pelted the bar cladded single window, with grey ominous clouds looming outside, little light came in, leaving a dark oppressive feel to the room.

"Can you tell me what you see in this photo?" The doctor asks the man opposite, whilst holding up an ink blot.

"Her." The man replies.

"And this ink blot?"

"My Robyn." He sighs looking at the ink blot longingly.

The doctor shifts in his seat, taking the man sat in psychiatric prison whites. His hair was cut short to his head, whilst his eyes held a glazed film across them from the amount of drugs coursing through his veins. Drugs that made him compliant.

"How have you been sleeping?" The doctor spoke taking note of the responses of the ink blot test into his small diary.

"Hmm." Harold smiles.

"Do you still see her?" The doctor questions.

"All the time. She's a part of me." Harold entwined his fingers together. Mimicking their bond.

"Is that why you attacked Nurse Peters?"

Harold stopped his longing looks at the ink blots and turned his eyes to the doctor. "Attacked? I didn't attack her. I wanted to hold her. She looks like her, she looks like Robyn.. But she's not Robyn. She can never be Robyn."

"You broke her jaw and eye socket."

"She wasn't compliant." Harold answers matter of factly. "She had to learn."

"Nurse Peters does not hold any resemblance to Robyn.." The Doctor spoke feeling anger tick his jaw.

"Are you upset Doctor? If you are, then I apologise but she was very rude."

The Doctors eyes hardened briefly, he could remember the day the young bright nurse joined the prison, he instantly suggested a move to a more relaxed setting of the prison. But she wanted to prove herself... It was a serious lapse in surveillance that led to her attack.

A couple seconds was all it took for Harold to attack the young lady, leaving her with a facial scar down her right cheek.

"I want to see her... Robyn. Get her for me." Harold demanded.

The Doctor squared his shoulders "Unfortunately all contact to Robyn has been denied by the courts. You signed the restraining orders, you know we cannot contact her."

"But I want to see her." Harold replies.

"It's not an option–"

"I WANT TO SEE HER NOW!" Harold yelled rising to stand over the Doctor, his anger causing a vein to rise across his forehead as his eyes glared down.

The Doctor kept his composure, he simply collected his things and rose up, moving back from the table leaving Harold shackled by chains which looped to the floor.

"No." The Doctor answers turning and making his way to the door. "Take him back to his cell..."

Harold's anger built as the two heavily stocked men came towards him, they both wasted no time in uncuffing him and dragging him back to his cell, despite his kicking and screaming.

With a hard shove, Harold fell into the padded room. Quick on his feet, he ran at the door and fell backwards again as he bellowed in fury.

"BRING HER TO ME NOW!" He ordered against the door. "I CAN SEE YOU!" He pointed to the officer stood on the opposite side of the reinforced Perspex glass.

The officer walked over to the small section and smiles before slamming the metal hatch over it, cutting off Harolds view from outside his room.

He yells, kicking and thrashing at the padded door until his throat is sore. Staggering, he turns around and looks at his cell. No personal items, no writing equipment, no photos...

They had taken everything.

Even the lock of hair he had cut off and folded in a white sheet of paper. Her hair. Her beautiful soft hair...

He slipped down the wall and settled in the corner. All he had was his thoughts, but even the drugs they forced into his body were slowly warping his mind.

Some days he couldn't visualise her face, sometimes it was her voice, sometimes it was her eye colour or smile.

"They won't take her from me!" He hisses looking at the door.

But even his mind turned on him from time to time. Whispering things into his ear, little comments that enraged him.

Was she happy?

Was she still with Zak?

He hoped she was happy, but not with him. Zak couldn't make her happy, not how he could...

The last thing he knew, was that she was pregnant.
Was it a boy? Or a girl?

Did the little girl look like her? Did she have her eyes? Her smile?

Did the little boy have her hair colour? Her fearless nature?

You could have had that.. That baby could have been yours...

"Silence!" He shouts as he twists and turns his head.

I bet she looked beautiful whilst in labour. Did she cry? Did she shout and grit her teeth? Or was it a beautiful passing? Did she bring a baby into the world with no trouble?

Harold pulled a hand over his face before rocking himself back and forth...

Did she breast feed? Did she give her baby the best nourishment a mother could give?

Harold wondered whilst imaging himself sat at her side, watching the beautiful baby latch onto her nipple and suckle.

Was she married?

He thought of that often. He dreamt that she would walk down the aisle and into his arms. That they would kiss and smile at their faceless guests before returning to their beautiful cottage and consummating the marriage into the early hours of the morning.

He growled at the thought of digging his fingers into her hips, smelling her hair and licking at her skin.

He wanted her. He wanted her so bad.. He wanted to hold her, cradle her in his arms before asking her softly to make love to him. To give him a baby of their own. So he could sit there and watch her feed, watch her care and smile at the small human. He wanted it all. But most of all, he wanted her. No, he needed her. So desperately...

"Bring her to me!" He shouts from the corner. "I need to see her!"

His requests were never answered. He never got to see her. He was never given a photo, or his belongings back. His confines were a padded cell, with no window. He rarely saw the outside, and slowly after time, her face began to fade. Her voice began to quieten and eventually he lost her.

At times he would yell in pain, gripping his chest at the loss of a woman he used to know. But he couldn't recall her face, he couldn't feel her skin under his fingertips, he couldn't smell her perfume.

All he could remember was her name. Robyn...

His Robyn...