He Is Mine

part 1

The metal sliding doors open up to reveal a comfort room. I step into the room. My toes wiggle around in delight absorbing the sensation of the thick white rug. White padding shaped like squares covers the walls and when I look up I see a twelve foot high ceiling loomed down. 

"This room is too white," I observe. 

My eyes rest on a proportionally well built man. His white shirt and white pants do not hide the muscles underneath. My eyes travel upward taking in his perfectly sculpted jaw line and smile and cold eyes. 

We will not be getting along. Even though he looks ok, he comes nowhere close to being as great as Pat. I move closer to the man and hear the numbers that were gone for a minute come surging up from the depths of my brain. They grow louder in my head, and I start counting.

Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten. Ahhh [Sigh]. Disgusting. This smiling man smells disgusting. I don't want to shake his hand. Why do I have to be near him? I can smell hand sanitizer on him. Smells bad. What a rancid odor, an acidic flesh melting chemical I'd rather not come in contact with, and that hand he is offering screams mysophobe. I know he must not want to touch me like I don't want to touch him. I'll show him my goodwill and act like the dark child I reflect in my appearance. I will not touch him. I better look away from him so he gets that I won't be touching his hands. 

Of course, there's no problem with touching other places on his body. Like his wrists, or perfectly sculpted collar bone, his jugular. And, oh... Crap. Those are places I shouldn't stare at. I turn my head and continue to observe my surroundings. I see a clock and it reads three fifteen. 

I look up wearing an uninterested expression. In the far right corner of the ceiling I see a vent, it looks big enough to fit my scrawny 5'4" foot body. If I get out of this place I can see Pat. But I have to get out before five, dinner time.

"Jess, Jess Kaine!" The person who has taken care of me for six years, three months, and five days, also know to me as El, pulls me out of my scheming. "This is Carlo, your new therapist. Say hello," orders El.

"Hello." I say imitating the exact way El said "Hello".

"Jess, He's a little shy." El tries to find an excuse for my minimal antisocial greeting. I lost count of my numbers. One. Two. Three. Four. El told me I should count if I don't know what to do. El told me numbers keep me sane.

"Oh, I totally understand Mrs. U." Everyone always calls El "Mrs. U" I don't know why. That is not her name. "I think Jess will open up to me," says the smiling man, Carlo. He looks at me."Why don't we get started Jess? Go sit down there."

Five. Six... I don't understand. What does he totally understand? What do I have to open for him? I don't think I want to start anything with this smiling man called Carlo. My disgust for him must have been apparent because El's pathetically-fake soothing starts, again,

"Jess, if you ever get overwhelmed you can always count" El is right. I should not waste energy overthinking.

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine, Ten. This will get annoying if I don't do as Carlo says. So I nod and go sit down. We are sitting in couch-chairs situated across from each other. I hear El leave the room. I close my eyes and feel comforting sensations seep into my taut muscles while I sink into the cushions letting them envelop me. I regulate my breathing and monitor my heart. I seem to be in a very calm state which is unusual for me. I breathe deeply and smell a citrusy-sweet scent. 

Ah, I see, Aromatherapy. But I've already tried that and it doesn't last. I open my eyes and see Carlo looking at me. He sees me open my eyes and smiles. He keeps smiling at me. He stares at me. Then he looks away, like he's embarrassed about something. I think this man is new to the institute. No experienced therapist would show such vulnerability.

"Jess," he says, "Could you tell me who Patrick Hebel is?"

White, my mind is white hearing that name. That name. That name. That name, that name, that name, that name. That name. That name, that name.... Pat. I love this name. Pat, pat, pat....'