When I entered inside, his cubicle felt unusually cold. He had clutched his head in discomfort. He sat in an uneasy position, crouched at a corner, wincing and shutting his eye tight.

I rushed forward with my notebook. "What do you see?"

"This cannot be just an illness, it's all so real. The hands choking me to death, the dark figures blurring around right now."

The only light in the room began to flicker and then went off, leaving us in the dark.

His eyes glowed in the dark eerily. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves down, when suddenly his movement caught my attention.

His arms had reached his neck, and he was trying to choke himself.

"What are you doing?" I cried, and attempted to release him from the strain. I pulled his arms, but he was too strong.

"Fight yourself, you have to." I met his eyes. "Xavier." I whispered softly.

I felt a gush of cold air behind me that made me shiver, and then the light turned on. He released the grasp on his neck, and coughed violently.

"I guess what's wrong with the lights." I muttered.

He refused to look at me, and faced towards the wall, legs crossed on the ground. I sat beside him, and waited eagerly for sometime for him to speak, instead he kept quiet, frustrating me.

"Say something." I demanded. "I will try to help you."

He thrust his palm on the wall, the momentum of which made me shift back. He intended to scare me away, I realised.

"I'm here to help you, not to give in to one of your tantrums." I said.

He finally faced me. His eyes were red and he looked furious. And scary.

"I'm trying to help you. They're real."

"Show me then."

He shook his head. I took his fingers and intertwined them into mine. His eyes flickered between our hands and my eyes.

He gave in. I had gained his confidence. He pointed right behind me. I turned back and saw nothing. I sighed.

"Everything's okay, Xavier. There is nobody here."

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes. It's just you and me." I assured him.

"Thanks Angela. For being here with me."

I smiled. "Always." Then reluctantly I let go of his hand, but slowly, smoothly.

I noted down: suicidal, depressed, needs attention, and constant caring.

"Angela," he said. I looked up. "Will you come back next week?"

I packed my things. "Well, I have to."

"I'll be waiting for you."

He stood up and closed in, nullifying the distance between us. He planted a soft kiss on my lips. I savoured the sensation of his touch, and his fragrance as his athletic frame bent to meet mine. Then he gave me a warm hug, and tucked a stray strand into my ear. I gasped, and was ashamed of my response.

I wasn't supposed to like him.

"Maybe we can save each other." He said.

I nodded and looked away. "Excuse me," I picked my bag up and then walked out without turning back, even though I felt his burning glare at me.