Tortured - Jaele

|| Chapter Thirtyeight ||

Riele -

"It isn't possible for you to transfer at the moment, Riele I'm sorry but my hands are tied."

The rehabilitation Director Sam Yoosung, pulled a burnt sienna colored folder out of the left side of his drawer and began scribbling across it with his fountain pen. He's barely looked up at me since I came here and I had some small hint of why.

"Untie them, I need to get out of here and I mean now. Don't you fucking care about my safety? Don't you care about what might happen to me?"

I tucked my arms over my chest tightly, it felt as if my heart would break through my ribs if I didn't. Sitting here and having to endure Yoosung's nonchalant, merry-go-round attitude about this was as frustrating as it was aggravating. He probably thinks I'm overreacting, or that this is just something I do for attention.

"You're on separate floors, Riele. Regardless of our suspicions about Jace Norman, for what it's worth I highly doubt he has any interest in you. I can't remove you from the facility until your program is finished or some family emergency has come up you eject you."

I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes. Bullshit.

"Are you sure you can't do anything at all?"

Yoosung folded his hands on his desk and shook his head.

"My best advice is to avoid all confrontations with him and go about your life as you've been doing. He's only here for a short time anyway, I'm sure you'll be just fine."

An orderly escorted me from his office after that. I stood outside the door, breathing for several minutes. Live with it. Eat, sleep, and breathe in the same building as my kidnapper. The man who made my life a living hell for as long as he could. In a way this is ironic, facing my demons... The things that give me nightmares when I least expect them. Slowly, I made my way back to my room. We're on different floors. He's only here for short time. It's like he's here but he doesn't exist. He doesn't exist.

Jace -

"After all this time, it's like the past is back to haunt me. She is the past, she's what I've been trying to forget this entire time."

"And how does that make you feel?"

I licked my dry lips, staring up at the chiseled ceiling of Dr. Alves's office.

"Like no one is listening. If there was one wish I could have for the rest of my life it would be to never see her again."

"Is that because of what you did or how you think you feel about her?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Say what?"

"How I feel about her... Why do I have to feel something about her?"

I sat up on the ottoman couch and stared hard at Dr. Alves.

"Whether it be romantic feelings, angry feelings, sad feelings they are conflictions you have towards her. This is what I meant."

"Oh."

I reclined back onto the couch and took a deep breath.

"Maybe that might have something to do with it."

Dr. Alves crossed her legs and jotted something down on her notepad. I looked over at her and lifted my head from the cushioned pillow underneath it.

"Or maybe not."

Dr. Alves wrote something else down before she proceeded to ask her next question. I kept my eyes on her, taking in everything from her penny loafers and stocking to her slicked back slat and pepper hair. She wore it in one long braid with a barrel in the shape of an orchid. I could smell the coffee on her breath from this distance and a small stand of red lipstick was on her teeth.