A World That Is Not Mine

XI.

As it got later and later, Lindsey gathered up some courage. He had to go back to the facility and ask Stevie more questions. He didn't want to, but this time he had to learn more about her. Her husband gave him more detail as to what he was dealing with at home. He could tell, he never exactly gave her a chance to really speak from questions. He was allowing to her to vent and get things off her chest, than ask how she felt and what she did for a living.

Lindsey made his way down the hall and knocked on the door. That was one of his own self-policies. Unlike the other doctor who told nurses to just walk in. He hated invading space of other's, but if he had to, he would. This wasn't exactly an emergency, but an intrical conversation.

"Come in!" she yelled. Her voice was small, she was still sad at the fact that she was there, but okay with the fact she would be treated humanely.

Lindsey pushed the door open and his eyes were staring down at at the floor he walked on. He leaned against the doorway for a second.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked.

"Um, I'm okay," he answered, rubbing his finger on his lower lip, briefly.

"Can I help you?" she then asked---a small smile on her face.

"What do you do for a living?" he questioned---capturing her eyes with his.

"Not really anything," she admitted. "I am a writer, but when I had my son I was more or less a stay at home mom. When he was gone, I lost my ability to do anything and since then I am a stay at home wife," she shrugged. "Oh and I would've filled this out," she slid the paper off the desk. "But I didn't have a pen."

Lindsey stepped forward and let the door shut. He was dressed in his regular button down shirt, black pants with a belt, and his nice shoes.

"Is everything alright?" she asked as he neared her.

"Um..." he managed to let out a sigh at the same time. "Well, I called your husband and--"

"Oh God," she let her head hit her knees, that were pulled to her chest.

"He told me some things. I don't feel he is telling the truth, but I have to confirm. Please don't lie to me---I sense goodness within you, Stevie."

She picked her head up---to look at his hesitating eyes. That was one thing, she could figure out so far, on her own. She could tell with the way he blinked---he was nodding. That's how the ones in her dreams worked. "Shoot, I'll answer. I have been honest thus far."

"How is your relationship with your husband at home?" he asked---recording the information in his head. He didn't want to scare her because, he still firmly believed she was innocent.

"Typical... sometimes volatile," she answered calmly.

"How so?"

"Typical because, he works---I stay home. Volatile when my dreams get involved."

"He tells me you get violent. Can you explain?"

"I've never hit him in my life---I threaten every now and again, but he knows I won't lay a finger on him. I love him too much to do that, but his mentality is stupid. We scream at each other a lot, but we always make up. It's easier to get mad since our son died," Stevie kept a strong eye contact, so she could read if his eyes were believing. And he was. "When he picks a fight---usually it is him 'cause, everything bothers him," she rolled her eyes. "But when he does, I do more of the talking---he always stays quiet because, he never likes what I have to say. I can be brutal with words, but actions speak louder than words. I have never hurt him---mentally or physically. He on the other hand, didn't have a problem showing me how much he loved me," she slid off the bed to pace a little bit. She crossed her arms and looked out the window, becoming somewhat upset by her husband.