Cracks Within

Chapter 1

Thursday 2nd August 2018.

I punch the white cushioned walls, desperate to find a way out. I scream, clawing at the stone floor. My hair hangs around my face, framing my features. Plain white clothes hang from my body, two sizes too big. "Let me out, I don't need to be here!" I pound on the wall, finding the metallic sound I was looking for. The door. I run back, preparing myself and speed towards the door, tensing up my body and closing my eyes. I ricochet back, falling against the butt of the bed. "Shit." I whisper to myself. I hear a voice shouting from down the hall.

"Be quiet number 154. You're going to wake everyone up."

I take a deep breath and let my head fall back onto the metal bar at the end of the bed. I look over to the clock placed high on the wall: 11.25pm. I close my eyes, letting my rage wash over me like a hot, comforting shower. It's all I have left. I'm exhausted from trying to escape. I fall asleep in the position that I fell.

Friday 3rd August 2018.

"Wake up 154. Mandatory psychiatrist counselling for you. You have ten minutes to get ready. Move it." a harsh voice says, fading into the distance. I open my eyes, feeling groggy and in pain from last night. Why is the bed so hard, I moan to myself? I stand up, steadying myself. As soon as I move one foot, my knee hits something made of metal. I look behind me, my eyes turning to slits. The bed. I look from the bed to the floor multiple times. I grunt in frustration as I think, Shit, I slept on the floor again. I quickly dress into the plain white shirt and trousers that were left for me on a chair in the corner. I put on the white pumps and bang on the door. "I'm ready, are you coming or what?" A burly man opens the door, his moustache and beard soaked in sweat.

"If you try and struggle, I will be forced to detain you by any means possible" Burly said in a bored voice. I stare at him.

"Okay, whatever." I follow him down the quiet sterilised corridor, every turn looking identical to the last. We stop at a huge oak door. The gold plate reads 'Dr Marshall Leway'. Burly knocked on the door, and a deep voice replied.

"Ah, my ten o'clock. Do come on in."

Burly opened the door, pushing me in. I turned around to scowl at him, but he had already disappeared.

"Do sit down, otherwise these next two hours are going to be uncomfortable." I jumped, forgetting that there was another person in the room. I take a few steps forward and take in my surroundings. The furniture was rich oak, all perfectly shined. There were diplomas hung on the walls, surrounded by giant pieces of artwork; landscapes, animals and abstracts. A huge old-fashioned mantelpiece dominated the far wall, littered with awards. In the centre of the room stood an ornate coffee table, already with a drink of coffee on, as if the doctor knew that my favourite drink was a latte. A grand leather chair was placed in front of the diploma wall, in line with the coffee table. On the opposite side of the table was a sofa that matched the chair, with plump fluffy cushions on. A fur rug lay under the centre furniture. It was only when a polite cough came from the side of the diploma wall that I first looked at Dr Leway. He was tall, with a muscular body that screamed of a cyclist. His dark hair was perfectly cropped and his green eyes sparkled like dew topped grass. His nose was as straight as a ruler and his lips perfectly curved. He didn't look like a typical shrink.

"Please sit down. You look tired." He has a deep voice that tinkled when he said his 'd's.

I look at him apprehensively.

"I'm fine, thanks. Slept like a log." I pull on my sleeves as his eyes analyse me.

"You don't seem it. You're anxious. Why is that?" He sips his coffee.

"Don't try and analyse me. I don't need therapy. I shouldn't even be here." I twirl and open my arms. "See? I'm good. And what I'd like to do is go home. So, if you could do me a solid and write down on your little pad that I'm fine, I would really appreciate that." I make my way back towards the door. Dr Leway moves quicker than a fox and is standing in front of me before I have chance to realise what had happened.

"No." he says, sternly. "You're not going until we talk. You've been here for three weeks and you've refused treatment. Therefore, we will be forced to treat you. I will not have another patient walk out of here before we've even had a chance to know each other. If after these two hours you feel that you would not benefit form therapy, then I will gladly let you leave this room and not order you to come back. But until then, I would very much like it if we could get to know each other. Does that sound reasonable?" He puts his coffee mug on a shelf near his head, trinkets covering it.

My green eyes bores into his. "Fine." I walk over to the sofa, sitting with my legs crossed and hands laced into each other. "I'm twenty-two years old, I'm a Gemini, I'm meant to be at university right now, I love metal- music, obviously- and my favourite tv programme is Scrubs." I stare at him, my mouth curling upwards into a grin. "There. You know me. And I don't feel better."

Dr Leway walks to his chair and looks me up and down. "If that's how you want to play, so be it. I'm thirty-three, a Scorpio, I also like metal music and I'm a fan of CSI. Any of the locations." He smiles at me, laugh lines surrounding his eyes.

I laugh. "To be fair doctor, I love CSI too. Although Vegas tops my list." I say, hearing a familiarity of myself in my voice.

"I agree. Something about that cast that always makes me laugh. When Warrick died though, a part of me died too."

I stick my hand out. "Yeah, me too!" I laugh as I let my arm drape over stomach. The smile on my face falters as I remember who I'm talking too. I give Dr Leway a stony expression.

"You're not my friend. You don't know me so don't talk to me like you do." I look at my hands and start playing with the end of my sleeves. I always play with my hands when I'm anxious. I suddenly remember that I'm in a shrink's office. I immediately stop and look at him in the eye. "And for the record, I don't need counselling. I've never needed counselling. And I won't need counselling. So, I'm good, and can I go?" I pout, open my hands and move forward. "We good?" I point to the door.

Dr Leway looks down and smiles. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't need to be." He looks up at me, still smiling. "I am here to help you. I understand that it feels like a prison here, especially with how the rooms are. but I am here to help. I am here to treat you, to make you feel more like yourself. I want you to be able to go outside and feel like you belong in this world. I was told about what you had said. You deserve to be here, you deserve to have a life and to be happy. Punishing yourself is not the right thing to do." He moves forward, his face inches from mine. His eyes are full of sympathy. He lowers the volume of his voice until it's barely a whisper. "You are worth more than you think you're worth. You are an incredibly special individual who has a lot to offer to this world. I do not want to see your name in a shitty written obituary. Please let me help you."

I feel a wave of calm wash over me. It's warm, comforting; something I've never felt before. My breathing quickens and deepens. I look up at him. I see something flash through his eyes. Fear? Desire? I don't know.

"Okay." I croak. I start to cry. "How did you know all that about me?"

He coughs and looks away. "I heard stories about when this all started. You also mutter in your sleep. It's okay to have help." He rises from his chair, walks around the table and sits next to me, his hand caressing my face. "You are an incredible woman. I believe that deep down, you know that."

I lean into his hand, fixated by his eyes. "No, I don't. I'm just an average person with nothing to offer."

Dr Leway looks down. "You are wrong." He lets go of my face and grabs his notebook off the table. "Let's begin."