An Open Sky

SNEAK PEAK OF SEQUEL ---- A DARK NIGHT

*This is just a small section of what I've been working on. Ideas for a sequel, if you will, please tell me what you think, too much? Too little? I will post the actual sequel soon :) Until then, comment and read on!

Alexa Marie Cohen, on the binder of a counselor.

                I watched him sit back in the chair silently. He was comfortable. I was falling apart inside, and he was comfortable watching. I shook my head, looking out the small crack of light that the closed curtains made available to me in the dark room. I watched people struggle with small, yippy dogs, cars pass each other, engines revving. It reminded me of my old home, of Melrose.

Massachusetts was a long way from Montana. I was a long way from home.

I was never cut out for rural life. I had almost convinced myself I preferred it over the city at one point. I was foolish then. I’d convinced myself to love the mysterious town, to love the secrets it held, to love a murderer.

“Alexa?” Dr. Burn asked, “Do you want to continue? You were doing so well.”    

“I was just telling you a dream. I don’t see how that matters,” I said flatly.

“But you said you have dreams like this a lot? Dreams with Jay holding a gun, shooting you.” His hazel eyes sparkled with golden flecks as he studied me. It was like I was a math problem he was given. He would keep trying different approaches until he had me figured out. Well, what he may have thought would be as easy as algebra, turned out to be as difficult as calculus.

I looked away from him to a dark filling cabinet next to the door. I wondered how many other binders were in there, how many other lives were trapped on the confines of a piece of paper.

“Normally Jay isn’t shooting me, it’s someone else. And I can never tell if it’s Jay or not. It’s just a black figure,” I said. I kept my eyes from him. The pen scratched rapidly against a thin piece of paper. Then he stood and moved to his desk. In the small, dim-lit room he looked very tall and slender, which was a trick of my mind because I knew he only stood inches above my own head. He set his thick-rimmed glasses down on the desk. I didn’t get why he even wore them. Whenever I would see him, they would be tucked in his front shirt pocket or be resting on his lap. They rarely found their home on his face.

“Do you ever find yourself with violent thoughts? Perhaps thoughts that include gun violence?” He moved back over to me with a fresh sheet of paper. He slicked back his dark brown hair with his fingers. Despite his efforts, a few strands fell in the middle of his forehead.

“No.” I grinned as he repetitively pushed the strands back from his face.

“Really?” He sounded surprised. “Your father said that you’ve been distant, he’s worried that you may become suicidal.”

I laughed. “I’ve always been distant with him. There’s nothing new there.” I folded my arms across my chest, sinking back in the chair.

He frowned. “Do you ever talk to him? Like really talk to him?”

I thought for a moment. I couldn’t really remember the last time we’d really talked about things deeper than school and how I was always getting into trouble.

“A good relationship with your father could help you get over this.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” I rested my head against the plush fabric of the chair, closing my eyes.

“What was your relationship with Jay?” I didn’t have to open my eyes to know he was watching me, scanning my body for any reaction to his name, and I wasn’t going to give him one.

“I told you, we dated.”

“For how long?”

                I didn’t see how the question was relevant. “Long enough,” I said.

                He sighed. “What about Aidan? Did you have any sort of intimate relationship with him?”

                My eyes shot open. “What?” I sat up. “What does that have to do with anything?”

                “Nothing,” he said, scribbling my reaction down, “just maybe something provoked Jay to do what he did like—“

                “Like what? Are you accusing me of cheating on my boyfriend? Because I can tell you right now that I didn’t,” I snapped.

                “You two seemed pretty close from what I’ve heard. You’re telling me that there was no attraction whatsoever? You seemed pretty upset that he was never found.”

                “He was a friend,” I said quickly.

                “A close friend?” He leaned in closer to me. “I’m only trying to help.”

                “Well, I don’t want it. I’m only here because I have to be. I don’t have to talk to you.” I narrowed my eyes.

                “You’re right.” Dr. Burn leaned back into the chair. “We still have half an hour, so we can either sing camp fire songs or talk about your relationships with Aidan and Jay.”

                I started at the door, longing for someone to come in to help me, longing for Aidan to rush through the door like he’d done before. I was trapped all over again, but there was one difference.

                No one was coming to save me.

                I turned back to him, grinning. “Okay,” I said. He smiled, pulling his paper closer to his body.

                “So—“ he started.

                “So,” I interrupted, “What song would you like to sing?”