The Places Alec Forgot

Chapter Three

This building is always cold. The stale air is conditioned even in the dead of winter. Today, however, it's a sweet escape from the blazing heat of July outside. The chill pierces even the fabric of my jeans, seeping into my skin from the tears in the black denim.

I take a seat outside of the last door in the long, second-floor hallway. My hands haven't stopped shaking since last night, and the bloody images that flash periodically across my mind have continued to torment me since I woke up. Dr. Gold will know what to do about them, of course - these episodes. His medications were supposed to help me, but, during our last meeting, he questioned the effectiveness of them.

As I sit, I look down at my cell phone. It is 2:55 pm. Our sessions always begin sharply at three, and he'll open the door no later, no earlier. As I take note of the time, I am also free to see the text message sent in by a good friend of mine, Michael.

Michael H. 2:49 pm

hey dude are you busy tonight

I pause before replying. While Mike is a nice person, a good guy, I am exhausted, and going to therapy in five minutes might just be the death of me for the day.

Alec 2:56 pm

Hey sorry. I don't know. Ive got therapy in five.

Michael H. 2:56 pm

tht doesnt take all night

Alec 2:56 pm

Ill see how I feel after ok?

Michael H 2:57 pm

alright man feel better than ill see you around

I do not reply, but yet I smile. Mike has a good heart. We've been friends for ages, and he's never changed. At times, that can be something rather annoying, as his sense of humor hasn't matured either, but it is something I can at least appreciate. He, of few people in my school, tolerates me. I can appreciate that, too.

"Alec?" Dr. Gold's voice cuts through my thoughts. I look up at him. The doctor's hair is messy today, I notice, and this is unusual.

I rise from my seat, pulling my eyes away from his. I always feel like they're prying at me, begging for answers that I am not ready to give - I never will be, I suppose. Stepping into his office, I am greeted with another cool rush of air. I am convinced that this man is some sort of demon, burning with fire, because of how cold he keeps the room.

There's a new carpet in the office. I notice this as I take a seat on the cool leather couch. Everything makes my skin crawl in this room.

To my right, Onyx lifts her head. She's a dog, medium-sized I suppose, with short black fur. Dr. Gold says she's very lazy, but she always gets up for me, tail wagging, panting with excitement. She's the only one who will really greet me with such enthusiasm.

I reach down and pet her head, which she promptly shoves against my leg at full force. I chuckle at the dog, who is really still a puppy.

"Glad to see you, as always," says Dr. Gold, and I know he's not talking about himself. "So, Alec."

I barely lift my eyes. Instead of looking at his face, I tend to look at the floor, at his tie, or at the lamp beside him. That's the closest I've gotten to eye contact. "Dr. Gold," I say as a return greeting.

"How was your week?" asks the doctor.

I am tentative to reply. My week has been anything but relaxed and or normal, and I would kill to just have one week to myself, one week where everything is normal and okay. I don't think I'm going to get that soon.