Chapter 5

Chapter Five

 

I’m sitting on a black leather couch in the living room of a house. I’m wearing jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. I’m looking down at a text from Bryan. It says:

Sorry. I’m not going to be home ‘til late tonight.

I’m beginning to type that I don’t care, he’s never home until late, but then Lucas walks through the doorway that’s lined with Christmas garland, holding two mugs. He’s barefoot, wearing raggedy jeans and a white T-shirt. I quickly turn the screen off and slide my phone in my back pocket.

He sits down next to me and hands me the mug. It’s hot chocolate.

“You know, Bryan will eventually find out about us.” I say, sliding my finger around the rim of the mug.

“Natalie, he can’t control you.” He takes my left hand and places it in his.

“I know, but he’s capable of doing brutal things.”

“I’m not scared of him.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his hot chocolate. “Besides, I thought you were going to file for divorce.”

“I will, but I need to talk to him first.”

“Why, why does he deserve to be talked to, first?” He sits his mug down on the side table.

I look down.

“Exactly, he’s done nothing but hurt you.”

“Sorry.” I say, wiping a tear that fell to my cheek.

“Please, don’t cry.” He says, pulling me close to him. “It’s all going to be alright.” He places my head on his shoulder as he rubs my back.

 

I jerk up; it was just a dream. I pull the covers back and swing my legs off the bed. I stand up and notice a white bag on my night stand. I snatch it off the surface and open it. There’s a prescription bottle full of blue capsules along with a note.

Sorry for the misunderstanding. Here’s a prescription to help with the migraines.

Dr. Peters

I take the prescription bottle out of the bag and storm to the bathroom. I take the cap off and flush the capsules down the toilet. I toss the bottle along with the bag and note in the trash. If she thinks that after what I went through during my examination yesterday, I’m going to take those pills, she’s crazy. She’s probably the reason why I’m here, anyway.

I turn the shower on and take off my clothes. I take a towel out of the bathroom closet and sit it on the sink. I step into the shower and let the warm water hit my skin. I didn’t realize how tense my muscles were until now.

I’m done showering and now drying my hair. I hear a knock on the door. I slowly walk to the door as if there’s a murderer on the other side. I open the door and it’s that same black guy.

“Uh�"what are you doing here?” I ask out of suspicion.

“I’m here to take you to your therapy appointment.” He grins.

“What time is it?”

“Six a.m.”

“I don’t want to go. I told that to her two days ago.”

He shrugs. “Well, I could just call back up if I needed to.”

I narrow my eyes at him and close the door behind me.  

We go down the stairs, as we would if we were heading towards the cafeteria. The therapy area is right across the hall from the examination area. It actually makes sense, though. Anybody who goes through that examination process will need therapy for life. It’s an extremely traumatic experience. The only this is, I don’t trust the staff here. Not even a simple therapist. As long as they work for this place, I refuse to let any trust begin to form.

He’s about to pull the doors open when I say, “Wait.”

“What?” He says.

“Listen, I know you know a lot about me and I know you know a lot about this facility.”

“I can’t help you.” He goes to open the door.

I stop his hand. “Please, I just need a little help. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“I said I can’t help you.” He jerks his hand away.

“Please, I just want help out of here. I don’t belong here!”

“I said I can’t help you!” He opens the door. “Go to door 25.”

Before I have a chance to ask any questions, he darts off.

There’s a row of chairs between every door. After looking at several doors and having to go around the corner, there it is; door 25.

Reviews

[JBoone]

The beginning of this chapeter had me going and I was getting anger. This is exceptional. I need a signed copy one day.