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Dinah read Steve's reply over and over. He had at least had the decency to be honest with her about John not writing. Then again she didn't think that he would considering he didn't care about her. He was the main reason she was there after all.

He was a different kind of trapped than she was though. He'd all but committed himself to the place. All because he wanted to help people like her. She wondered whether he felt as lonely as she and probably other patients did. Maybe it was also a different kind of lonely? The only way she could ask was through the words on the paper of her journal.

Dinah had tried writing just in a normal form, but felt the words flowed better than writing to the doctor. Somehow they just came to her. When she wasn't hitting down her daily entries, she kept it well hidden, not wanting the matron or anyone else to find it. Doctor Rogers may have told her it was for their eyes only, but she also feared others may have just chosen to ignore his orders.

She liked having this. Like a secret that was just shared between the two of them. She did not think it intimate. His words were professional and honest. Hers? Raw and sometimes emotional. Should anyone have looked at the journal so far then it would just be seen as a medical document of her sanity spiralling.

Dinah sat in the recreation room, watching as Natasha danced gracefully in the area that she usually did. Her moves silent just as the music in her head was. She could have been a professional. Ballet was her forte. Perhaps she had been? She wanted to ask her friend many questions about her life, but still was all the more curious to know about her.

Given that she wasn't allowed to embroider, she had a book open in her lap, trips to the library frequent and ordered by Doctor Rogers as part of treatment. She would lose herself to a book, instead of losing herself to her own mind.

In his opinion, other than the journal and massage. It was the best kind of remedy.

I often wonder whether you read as much as I do? Dinah had written in her latest entry that he was yet to see. There wasn't another session until tomorrow. Or do you prefer medical studies?

Was that too much of a personal question to ask? Still he'd told her to note down her every thought and that was what she was doing.

Nothing his presence when watching Natasha, she returned to her book, pretending to read as he came to watch a little more closely before she finished. Clapping with a smile. "Beautiful. You ready for our session?" Nat nodded and followed him out of the room.

Sometimes I wonder what Natasha feels when dancing. Joy, pain, relief? She is my only friend here. She had written the day before. I watch her, willing that she will at least have the privilege of walking out of here and never returning. She is sane, even a blind man can see it. Can you, doctor? Or do your eyes deceive you? Do they deceive me?

Returning to her book, Dinah found concentration becoming hard, and eventually gave up. It was raining badly outside, so she wouldn't be able to get any fresh air aside from the open windows that were barred.

Like a caged animal.

Should I thank John for placing me in this place? She wrote later that evening. Perhaps it was kinder to do so than spare me the embarrassment of his adulterous behaviour. Goodness how everyone would have whispered about me as I passed them. Society is toxic still, people in my circle of friend would have surely spoken about me behind my back. Perhaps they do, depending on what my husband has told them. It would not surprise me if they had lied and told everyone I was dead.

Is this how it feels? To be dead to everyone even though my family are still aware of my existence? It shows they care more for the reputation of our family name than me.

Dinah.

**
Steve looked through the journal as Dinah sat perched on a chaise across from him. She had refused to lie upon it, which was fine. As long as she was seated and calm.

In truth, her entries were interesting. To feel that being sent here was out of kindness on her husband's part. The fact that her family had cared more about their name. But had her husband lied to them too? Spun a web to catch them. Did they even know that she was here?

"Well..." he began, putting the book down. "You are far better writing the words than talking about them".

"It just feels right". Dinah replied and then looked at him. "Do you have family, doctor?"

He shook his head. "They've been gone for a while, which is probably why you find me here".

"Were you married?"

He went to open his mouth to answer, but then closed it. "We should be talking about you, Dinah. Not my life".

"So how am I to put my trust in my doctor when I know very little of him to do so?" She asked, now looking up again from the focus she'd had on her lap for a short while.

He wrote something down on his pad. "It's not something I tend to speak of to patients. Like you, I find the words hard".

Dinah toyed with her hands in her lap. "Perhaps writing them down would help?"

Steve smiled at this and nodded. "Giving me my own advice - clever". He looked at the clock. "That's enough for today. I'll return your journal this evening". Watching her rise from the chair, he got up and opened the door for her. "And Dinah?"

"Yes?" She turned to him as she walked out.

"From your entries, we may need to increase your treatment. Right now it is scheduled for three times a week, it would be beneficial to take it up to five".

She swallowed. "Oh...I believed that it was working..."

"Not enough, but don't be afraid because of what you've wrote in the journal. Like I said. We keep it just so as I can change treatment to how I think it would help you best - go and have lunch. I'll see you this evening".

"Thank you Doctor". She nodded, and returned to her room - leaving Steve to re-read the journal before penning his response.

Asylum (Steve Rogers AU) 18+Where stories live. Discover now