Fear

13 • Masks and mirrors

After James left, he visited me again the following day to ask if I felt any better, and to say that Sam was busy, but didn't visit the day after because his schedule was fully booked with other patients. I spent most of my time alone, either wide awake and questioning everything, or trying to get some sleep. I was exhausted.

The next notable thing that happened came a few days later.

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The door to my room creaked open, the sound jarring in the stillness. My heart rate spiked as I looked up to see Tyler entering, his usual mask of cold detachment firmly in place. He closed the door behind him with a soft clang, then turned to face me, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met mine.

"Emily," he said, his voice low and measured, "how are you feeling?"

The question was unexpected. Genuine concern wasn't something I associated with Tyler. I couldn't respond verbally; my throat felt constricted by a mix of fear and confusion.

He walked over to my bed, each step deliberate, and stood by my side, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. "You had another session with James?"

I nodded slowly, trying to read his intentions. Was he here to check on me, or was this another one of his mind games?

"Don't get the wrong idea," he continued, his voice growing colder, "I'm not here because I care. I just need to ensure you remain... functional."

He reached out, his fingers grazing my bandaged arm. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his harsh words. It looked like something was on his mind. His touch lingered on my skin as his fingers travelled further up my arm past the bandage, trailing up to my shoulder. I couldn't help but flinch, and he pulled back, a flicker of something-annoyance?-crossing his face.

"You're not special, Emily," he said, his tone harsher now. "no matter what you think."

His words were a confusing mix of commands and underlying concern. Why was he trying so hard to intimidate me while simultaneously checking on my well-being? It didn't add up.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin. It smelled minty, actually, as if he'd just brushed his teeth or eaten a mint. Did he freshen his breath for me?
"Why do you think I do what I do? Why I'm so invested in breaking people like you?"

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. "Because you enjoy it?" I managed to whisper.

His eyes flared with anger. In an instant, his hand shot out, gripping my face - not too hard, but enough to make me regret speaking. It seemed like he had a knack for doing that. Every time I spoke out of line or did something he didn't like, it was always his go-to intimidation tactic. His fingers dug into my cheeks, and I could feel the tension in his grip.

"Don't you dare assume you know me," he hissed, his voice venomous. "You think you can defy me, Emily? Survive this place on sheer willpower? It's not enough."

As he held my face, his eyes flickered briefly to my lips. The moment was fleeting, but I noticed it. A strange, unspoken tension crackled between us. Just as quickly as the emotion appeared, he masked it again.

He straightened up, releasing his grip on my face, and took a step back. His eyes remained locked on mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "But I can see it in you - you're stronger than most. That's why you interest me, why I won't let you crumble too easily."

His words planted a seed of doubt in my mind. Could it be possible that Tyler saw something in me worth preserving? Did he actually... care?

As he got up to leave, he turned back to side-eye me, a curious look hidden in his eyes. What did he see in me that made me different to his other patients? What was I to him?

As the door closed behind him, I was left with more questions than answers. Tyler's visit had been a whirlwind of mixed signals, and I couldn't shake the feeling that beneath his mask of cruelty, there was a flicker of something else - something almost human.

I realised that Tyler dealt with his emotions with masks and mirrors-masks to hide his true feelings and mirrors to deflect them onto others. This was his way of coping, his method of maintaining control - not over us, but over himself. Maybe that was his fear, losing control...

With this in mind, I began to think of ways to use what I'd learned to my advantage. I realised that if I wanted to survive, I had to muster every ounce of courage within me. It meant standing defiantly in the face of Tyler, confronting the evil man who had kidnapped me and ruined my life. The thought was terrifying, but I knew I couldn't afford to back down. If I wanted to outmaneuver him, I had to be brave, assertive, and unyielding, even when fear threatened to paralyse me. This was my chance to turn the tables, to use his own tactics against him. But could I do it?

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