Through the Smoke

Chapter 4

The guard allowing her into the room, she approached the woman dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a navy T-shirt seated on the floor in a corner of the small room despite there being two chairs and a bed to occupy. Instead of bringing one of the wooden chairs over she chose to also sit on the floor facing the blonde in desperate need of a comb and brush. Regardless of her unkempt hairdo she was still as beautiful as the doctor remembered.

"How are you feeling today?"

"I'm in a mental hospital. How do you think I'm feeling?"

"You didn't eat your breakfast or your lunch."

"Who are you? The food police?"

"I'm someone who cares about you," she patiently replied in a soft tone of voice. She awaited another smart ass comment, but the woman with the perpetually haunted eyes merely stared at her. "Yesterday I asked you to write me a minimum one-hundred word story. Did you?" She assumed the answer would be a no, so she was quite surprised when the patient arose and walked toward the desk positioned in front of a window overlooking the facility's garden. Top drawer opened she pulled out a sheet of paper, which she offered the doctor who had also risen.

Although the story had been handwritten she had excellent penmanship making it easy to read. Rear parked in one of the chairs, the doctor lowered her head to do so.

She had a sneaking suspicion something was amiss the moment she arrived home from a long, strenuous day at her place of employment. Heart picking up speed, a sweaty and trembling hand gripped a ring of keys as she walked into the house after finding the front door ajar. A gasp leapt from her mouth when she noticed her father dead on the couch. Wobbly legs guiding her toward the kitchen she discovered her mother sprawled on the recently waxed floor, a rolling pin protruding from her chest. Then she went upstairs. Rover, the family dog appeared asleep on his own little bed, but she was aware of the truth. They, whoever they were had stolen his heartbeat too.

The End

"I wrote an extra nineteen words not including 'The End'. Can you believe that only took me about five minutes? Brilliant isn't it? I think that paragraph could nab me a Nobel Prize in Literature." Plopping into the chair opposite she searched the doctor's face hoping she had finally gotten underneath her skin. However, she seemed calm as usual. She even flashed a smile.

"Have my doubts it's worthy of such an honor, but at least you're writing and like you said, you gave me extra."

"I know what you can do with the extra." Sitting forward she braced her palms on the severely scarred table. "Bend over and shove them where the sun doesn't shine." Another smile further annoyed her. When was she going to take the hint and leave her alone? Leave her to bathe and ultimately drown in misery?

"No thanks. I'm not fond of words in my derriere. Appreciate the suggestion though."

"Why are you of all people treating me? Isn't this like a doctor-patient relationship conflict of interest thing considering you and I have knocked a headboard against the wall?"

The smirk almost made it to her lips, but she pushed it back in the nick of time. "First, what a lovely way to recall our lovemaking. Second, you and I haven't knocked a headboard together or been in any sort of contact until you arrived at this hospital in over a decade so I'm not concerned about a conflict."

"And why are you treating me? You're not the only psychiatrist who works here are you?"

"You were assigned to me. Merely a coincidence. Now," she pulled a wallet-sized photograph from a pocket and held it out for her patient and former lover to view. "Who is she?"