Counterfeit.

Counterfeit. Part 1.

What could be so false about this?
Why was it, that no matter how good the feeling got. Always in the back of his mind,
one word danced in the shadows of doubt and disbelief.

'Counterfeit'

He was with her.They walked down that strip of beach, for what seemed like ages, hand in hand, like they always did.

Yet now, something didn't feel right. But he was not about to compromise his precious moments with her, for some petty doubts in his head.

He looked in her eyes, exactly the same as he remembered. That same hazle glow, emitted from what could possibly be, the two most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.

They looked at him, and when they did, he would feel an all too unusually familiar sense of warmth wash over him.

A feeling so alien, yet so comfortably normal. This was how she always made him feel.

Everyone else's eyes looked at him with pity and a sense of sorrow he could not understand.

He was allowed to see her everyday, for a half hour walk on the beach behind his hospital, her loving company and presence was a necessary part of his rehabilitation, but people from back there, the physicians and caretakers would walk him to the same spot on the beach everyday, at times let out a sigh of exasperation as they kept comfortable distance from the man and the love of his life as he would enjoy what would always be the best parts of his day.

He inferred what was obvious. They did not believe that this would help for some reason, and it was a waste of everyone's time.

It was a very tragic and fatal car accident. A miracle he even survived. There was no longer any visible harm on his body, but even he could sense it, He'd be there for a long time.
A sense of comfort overcame him him, as she said exactly when he needed to hear it.

"No matter how long it takes, I will always come and be here for you"

She squeezed his hand and he felt the love take over, pushing the feelings of doubt and disbelief out of his mind once more.

The word 'Counterfeit' dissolved. He knew it to come back to tease him. But for now, the love he was given had chased it away.

"It's time to go" said a physician behind them .

"Your time for today is up, you'll be back here tomorrow."

She let his hand go and smiled as they escorted him back to his quarters in the hospital.

Outside, their conversation continued where they had left off, with a hushed sense of caution, taking care not to be overheard.

"How much longer will this go on? Everyday we take him out to the beach, he walks alone, smiles and then we take him back! What kind of help is this!?
We're just enabling him. Letting him believe what he wants to."

"We work at a mental asylum. There isn't too much clear thought involved."
He paused as he started to mull over the incident involved with the man they'd just left behind in his room.

"That car accident was brutal, y'know.
He survived, but his wife...she wasn't as fortunate.
And without her, neither is he.
He believes he's walking with her everyday on the same beach they first met.
And if he doesn't get to do that everyday.. well..
You've seen how he gets."

"Mmm.
It's all really tragic and everything, but is it helping?"

"I don't know if it's helping, but one thing I really do appreciate is, even in death, she's the one who's actually keeping him happy and taking care of him. Not us."

A appreciative silence befell the both of them, as they stood there, giving their own version of thanks, in their own heads, to the woman who held captive the heart of the man in their captivity.

"Maybe he knows, y'know?"
The silence broke.
"But his mind pushes the truth away. This.. counterfeit existence of hers keeps him happy.
It's enough for him?
And if he believes it, truly,
Why would he give it up?"

"Give her up?"

Said a third voice, not belonging to either one of them. Not more than a whisper, but nothing less than terrifying.

The following silence was so incredibly deafening. Time seemed to stop completely still. The two asylum workers were dumbstruck.

Their eyes darted towards the door, a few feet away from them.

A door not fully closed.

Adoor which had the head of a potentially dangerous mental patient peering outof the corner repeating the question to himself,at times announcing it out-loud.

And he started waiting,
about to hear something he knew in his heart of hearts,
he didn't want to hear.