His Little Heart

I Just Want To Go Home

^

Two more days came and went.

Little to no progress was made during those two days. I had gone through four more sessions with Dr. Hiddleston, silent, glaring, and detached to his efforts.

Each session started and ended pretty much the same. I'd come in, brought in by Nurse Harry, plop down on the white chair, happily ignoring Dr. Hiddleston's greeting. He'd try to do an ice breaker with me, asking the most stupidest of questions in hopes of getting me to finally open up.

I only gave him crickets.

The rest of the session was spent in utter silence. I kept my mouth tightly shut, zipped and under lock and key. I refused to budge under his surveillance, hating how he was able to give me his fullest attention without showing one bit of unsatisfactory. He just sat there in equal quietness, open to listen whenever I was ready to come round.

At the end of our session, which was an hour later where no progress was made, he'd bide me a soft goodbye before Nurse Harry appeared to escort me back to my room. As soon as I was in the small confinement of the blue room, I made myself comfortable in solitude. Nothing bothered me in there.

I was given a couple hours of retrieve before I was subjected to another session with Dr. Hiddleston. Each time I saw him, the chirping of crickets only got louder and more intense between us.

It was on the third day that he finally decided enough was enough and stop the sound of crickets.

I was just getting cozy with this routine when the rug was pulled out from underneath me. It nearly scared the crap out of me when I awoke to Dr. Hiddleston that morning.

"Good morning!"

My body jumped underneath the blanket wrapped around me, my eyes popping open at the unexpected appearance of him. Having expected Nurse Harry, the alarm that went through me at seeing an intruder in my room - Dr. Hiddleston beaming down at me brightly - propelled me against the corner of the bed, my body immediately going into a ball. A rude word I won't repeat slipped through my mouth, now wide awake.

He quirked a brow at me, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Now, where in the world did you hear that word?"

"What are doing here?"

Where was Nurse Harry?

"I've come to get you ready for the day," he beamed.

I stared at him for a long moment. My brain couldn't understand what was happening, failing to process the image of Dr. Hiddleston standing in my room. All my walls went up inside me, alarmed at the change. I had gotten use to Nurse Harry's calm voice rousing me each morning, so the fact it was Dr. Hiddleston's voice instead, bright and charming and ready to face the day, was very discerning to me.

"Where's Nurse Harry?" I quietly asked, peering at the door.

"He's been called to the main hospital to help in with some patients," Dr. Hiddleston explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "He'll be back this evening, and until then, it's you and me. Come on, up we go."

He gestured for me to stand, watching me expectedly. I counted to a slow three before, sending him a look, I unpeeled myself from the bed. I mentally prepared to run if any sudden movements were made, hating the bucket of nerves that had just been dumped over my small frame.

"Go to the restroom," he directed.

The kindness of his voice, which I had grown comfortable with - not enough to trust him yet - changed then suddenly, crisp and stern. I dared a look at him, regretting it immediately. His soft features, like his voice, appeared cool, his eyes fixed on me pointedly, his lips pinched together in a straight line.