State of Confusion

Chapter 9

- CHRISTIAN -

"Tell me about her," Dr. Flynn demanded in his soft, endearing voice.

Christian stood with his hands on his hips in front of the window that overlooked the hustle of the city. He watched the world below him as he pondered the prying statement made from his therapist.

For years he had spent his time staring out windows, sitting on couches, and even lying on floors to discuss the depths of his complex mind. For hours, he had relied on a single man with a psychology degree and his rich experience to decipher his latest complications or revelations all depending on his current events. This time was no different.

"I've already told you about her," he sighed and dragged a hand over his tired face. "What more can I say?"

"I'd like to hear it again. If that's alright with you?" Flynn asked.

No, it was not, but he knew he wasn't shoveling a couple hundreds of dollars into Flynn's bank account on a weekly basis just to stand in a silent torture amongst his presence. Just like a house of cards, he collapsed upon his inquiries. His stubborn like tendencies did not even stand a chance, not with him, and not with her.

"Ana," Christian began. How could he convey who she was to him into words? "I can't help but feel like I know her. Like we've met before." He bowed his head and placed his hand on the glass of the window. "And every time I look at her or think about her, it just eats me up inside."

There was a long pause before Flynn proceeded with his observations.

"Why do think about her?"

Wasn't that what he was supposed to tell him? He was the mastermind of human puzzles. Speaking of her only made him tense, more so than usual. She was a sensitive subject. Flynn knew this, and it was his duty to wake the beast inside him that carried so much confused and pent up emotions.

"I was hoping you could answer that, doc." Christian's sarcasm caused a short chuckle from him. "I don't know. Her name was the first word I spoke when I woke up from my coma. She was the first person I saw, and somehow she continues to be the last thing on my mind every night before I fall asleep."

Pushing himself away from the window that he had used for support, he turned around and shrugged his shoulders. "I came here today in hopes of seeing her, and I did." He focused on the mural painting on the wall. It was abstract and loud, just like this thoughts.

"Go on," Flynn encouraged his open book mantra.

"I think I was more pleased to see her than she was to see me." His voice fell upon the memory. He closed his eyes tight as he continued to unravel his soul. "She hates me. She has every right to. I did fuck up her life, but I can't help but feel there's a connection that goes beyond what I did to her."

Flynn nodded his head and scratched a few notes down onto his notepad that rested on his knee. He wondered what sort of remarks he noted in that little soul catcher he carried everywhere with him. How many souls did it hold? And what secrets of his did it reveal? Even outside of his usual office setting, he appeared professional and equipped to tackle his demons with him.

Selfishly, Christian extracted the idea that he was Flynn's favorite. He was fucked up, complex, and infatuated with a woman who was not his fiancee. He was a psychologist's dream.

"This connection, have you ever thought that maybe you're reading into it too much? That maybe it doesn't go beyond what happened and it's just your guilty conscious that's creating this idea of a deeper connection." His insightful statement was something to think about. "Or, maybe it is entirely something else. Something you can't admit to yet or you haven't been discovered yet."