Therapy Session (Mac Prison)

Eight: Dinner

Trisha went home at six o'clock that night, and she was exhausted, and slightly dreading the next day. After those encounters with Mac, she was seriously regretting going to the prison. But even if she wanted to quit, she'd have to give a two week warning in advance. Stupid laws. She drove home, listening to some pop music. Currently it was the Chainsmokers Closer. She tapped the steering wheel as it played, waiting at a red light. She was gnawing at her bottom lip, trying to think of methods to get some of the inmates to talk. Before she had gotten the prison job, she had worked with troubled teens who either tried to run away or commit suicide. A lot of them easily talked, surprisingly. They had bottled up emotions that once they were out, they wouldn't stop flowing. She knew there was a huge gap between a suicidal 16 year old girl and a 40 year old murderer. But she believed that she could help them. She had to help them. Not because it was in her job description, but because they deserved to let their thoughts go. Keeping emotions and thoughts bottled up wasn't good for health, and prisoners like Mac was just a teenager keeping his emotions bottled up. She needed to crack him a little bit to get the water flowing. But how could she make him crack?

Trisha arrived at her house to find he lights on. She pulled into the driveway and got out of her car, wanting nothing more than some hot tea and dinner. She opened the door and was greeted with a strong aromatic scent of cooking meat flooding to greet her. She felt her stomach growling, just as Hannah came running over, squealing as her mother came home. "Mommy!" She exclaimed, jumping into Trisha's arms. Trisha scooped her up and hugged her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi, Angel." Trisha cooed. "Where's Daddy?"

"Dinner!" Hannah stated, and when Trisha put her down again she ran down the hall towards her room. Trisha smiled at her little girl and headed into the kitchen, surprised that Michael was standing at the stove stirring something with a spatula. Michael usually left the cooking to the housekeeper or Trisha, so this was a pleasant surprise.

"Oh, what's this?" Trisha asked, walking over to the pantry and grabbing a tea bag. "When did you start cooking?"

Michael scoffed. "Haha, very funny." He muttered.

Trisha smiled a little and walked over to him, reaching up and giving his cheek a kiss, and saw that she got a small smile in return. "Thank you." She mumbled. "I really didn't feel like cooking tonight."

"Was work that bad?" He asked as she stepped away, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet.

Trisha groaned. "Yeah, it wasn't the best. I've met a psychopath who kept heads in jars, so that's lovely. Not to mention over half of the inmates wouldn't say a thing about what they did or why they did it. I just don't know how I'm gonna get them to open up." She sighed, filling the mug with water before putting it in the microwave for two minutes.

Michael sucked in a sharp breath. "Why not use the same tactics that you used on teenagers?"

Trisha sighed. "They aren't teenagers, Michael. There's a difference between a teenager and a murderer." She said. "Plus no one wants to admit that they murdered someone. I honestly don't think any of them want help, excluding a couple."

"Well if I were you, I'd focus my attention on the ones that do need help. Maybe if you help them, they'll spread the word at how well you treated their issues. Soon everyone will want Mrs. Waters to help them." Michael suggested, smirking over his shoulder at her.

Trisha smiled at him and bit her lip. "Mrs. Waters?" She asked. "What happened to Dr. Waters?"

Michael smirked and stepped away from the stove, walking over to her and grabbing her hip. "Last I checked, you agreed to marry me." He said, smiling down at her as his hands roamed up and down her sides.

Trisha smirked and bit her lip, carefully pressing a knee to his crotch. She watched as his eyes darkened, and before she knew it, his lips were pressed against hers, moving over hers hungrily. Trisha kisses back, closing her eyes as Michael's hands started groping at her body. She let out a faint moan, just as his hands slipped into her skirt, tugging her even closer.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Hannah's small voice asked, breaking Trisha and her husband's lips apart. She glanced down at Hannah, who's blonde hair was in a cute ponytail while she was holding a piece of paper, looking confused.

"Hi, sweetheart. What're you up to?" Trisha asked, breaking away from Michael and walking over to her, scooping her up and setting her on her hip, just as the microwave beeped.

"I drew!" Hannah stated enthusiastically, holding the picture up as Trisha got the hot water out of the microwave and Michael moved back to the stove.

"What'd you draw, honey?" Trisha asked, adding some sugar and the tea pack to the mug.

"I drew Rufus and you and daddy and me!" Hannah stated, shoving the drawing into her mother's face. Trisha took the picture and smiled. Sure enough, three people and a black blob were on the picture. Michael's black hair was nothing more than a thin line on the top of his head. Trisha's blonde hair was yellow and almost touching the ground, which made her smile. Rufus was a black blob with four stick legs and a pink tongue that nearly touched the floor as well. Trisha smiled at the picture and set Hannah down on the floor. Then she walked over to the fridge and hung it up with a magnet. "A masterpiece like this needs to be on display." Trisha stated with her hands on her hips.

"Yay!" Hannah squealed, clapping her hands excitedly.

Trisha smiled and glanced at Michael, who was smiling a little too. "Go wash your hands up for dinner, honey." Trisha ordered, walking over to Michael as Hannah scurried out of the room. Michael turned around to face her, placing his hands on her hips and smirking at her, rubbing her sides with his thumbs. "And you," she addressed him, placing her index finger delicately on his collar bone, "better have good plans for tonight."

"Oh, I do." Michael murmured, leaning down and capturing her lips in his. Trisha pulled away with a devilish smirk on her face. She then grabbed her cooled down tea and heading into the living room, sitting down on the couch and sipping her tea with closed eyes.