"You have a choice," my mother told me when I was just seventeen years old, "You can go willingly, or I'll send you there while you kick and scream." I tried to smile and go into a denial which would make me believe that my mom was just kidding. I couldn't though. I knew she wasn't. She was leaning on one hip, with her hands on both hips, still in her pajamas and her hair rolled in curlers. And as i should've been in pajamas myself, instead I was in street clothes.
Teary eyed I looked from her to out the window. All the nieghbors were gathered outside their homes gawking and pointing at the limousine parked in front of our home. Anyone who lived in our neighborhood was just barely surviving, and had never seen a real limo before in their lives. And everyone who was anyone knew all the complications within my family, so they knew we couldn't afford one therefore they were wondering Why? How? Maddie's daughter?
I closed the blinds and turned back to my mom. "Well, I'll have to pack my bags won't I?"
She pointed to the door, where a few bags were already packed. Of course, because of the clutter, I wouldn't have seen them myself. My younger brothers, and older sis, all stood on the edge of the hallway peeking over to see what would happen to me. I looked away from them and down to my feet. "So....how long have you been planning this?" I asked, hoping I could stall my fate just a little while longer.
She shook her head in fury, "The second you started showing signs. I just had to find the money first. But Dr. Pawsky said he would love to look into your case so he's paying for everything."
I didn't know who Dr. Pawsky was. I never even heard her mention his name. This wasn't just another one of those situations that I could talk my way out of, I knew, so there was only one thing I could do. "I never meant to hurt anyone." I promised as I hugged onto my mom. It took her a while before she decided whether she wanted to hug me back but she eventually did.
"And I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help."
After I peel my way out of her arms, I wave with a sad smile on my face to my siblings watching with wide eyes. None of them dared to wave back, which shocked me most. "You need to go now," My mom says once I stopped moving, "There's a bunch of people waiting on you."
As in a nightmare, I went reluctantly to the door. Mechanically, I crouched down to get my bag, then I opened the door. I took one last look at the place I knew as home then I left. I only started crying once I got in the limo.
The driver took me to the airport, where I met my escorter,who made sure I got on the plane. Then the escorter put a word in for the flight attendants to keep an eye on me. I could tell by the wary way they looked at me. As if I were a wild animal, ready to snap at any minute. I could've watched a movie, eaten the all expense paid for snacks, drinken the all expense paid for drinks, instead I stared out the plane's window. Ashamed and defeated.
Another escorter took me out front of the airport to my ride, where another limousine driver, drove for about an hour or two. I felt queasy. I sincerely wanted to puke. None of it was right. I never had gone more than twelve hours without my mom. Her job was the only reason she stayed away from home that long. Even when I snuck out late nights, or early mornings, I always returned before too much time could pass. I felt it harder to hold and maintain breath in my lungs as if I were suffocating. I rolled down the window and tried to huff in as much air as possible. I nearly hypervenilated, until I saw where the limo had stopped.
Big gates, color unknown, stood taller than three of the homes from my neighborhood stacked on top of each other. Vines tangled it's way around nearly all of it. Yet the gates only opened once the driver pressed a code into the keypad.
We drove around trees as tall as skyscrapers, and bushes that leaves reached up to my hip. Beautiful flowers blossomed all around bringing another color to the greenery. The car took a turn into a circular drive, as I felt my heart stop beating. Only a few feet away, a mansion cast a shadow over me. I thought mansions were pure fiction. That no home could actually be that big or extravagant. I never knew people could be nearly as rich as the king and queen of England themselves. It felt like finally, someone had knocked the rock off of me that I had been sleeping under for years.
Standing on the steps, leading up to the mansion, was a bald headed man. If it wasn't for the black beard and mustache that overtook much of his face, I would've sworn he was a grandpa category of old. He waited in a suit, with his hands folded in front of him, and a grin on his face as he rocked back and forth on his heels waiting for me. "Ma'am." The driver said once he opened the door for me. He then offered me a hand to help me out of the car. As I stared around at my new surroundings, the driver had already dropped my bags at the steps, and driven off.
The man on the marble steps waited until I was only three steps below him before he started introductions. "Ah, Ms. Butch! I am Dr. Lee Pawsky. I am so glad you've arived! Come right in!" He turned and headed inside the mansion before I had even gotten to the top step to pick up my bags. Once I went inside, my mouth hung open. I couldn't even count how many levels there were to his home. All surrounded in Medieval European furniture. Built upon wood. The floors partially covered by a red narrow carpet, with golden stiches within the design.
As Dr. Pawsky smiled, pleased with my astonishment, two boys in uniform ran to greet us. Or more so attended onto us, as if we really were loyalty. "I'm actually quite glad we ran into both of you! Ms. Butch will be able to meet the first of many friends. Boys," Dr. Pawksky left them to their own introductions. The shortest stood at 5'7. As he stepped forward to introduce himself, I noticed his eyes. They were big, brown, and simply curious. They reminded me a lot of the children's from my neighborhood when they saw the limo. "Nicholas Brawn." His east coast accent caught my attention immediately. I felt flushed once he held his hand out to me.
"Allison Butch," I take his hand and shake it, "I'm known as Butch or uh Alice."
He failed to recognize my tom boy nickname and lit up with excitement. "You're American!"
I laugh, "Yes! And you are too!"
The other worker didn't let our shinanogance last long. He only stood an inch or two above the two of us. "Phillip Lawls." With a cocky grin, he charmed me over. "Also American." His eyes were the color of nearly a gold dust. He kept smiling even though I stood infactuated by his presense. You would've sworn I saw the face of an angel. He looks from me to Pawsky, "Would you mind, Sir, if Nick and I gave Butch a tour on the rest of the estate?"
"I very much would." The doctor's respone seemed to surpirse him. "There is a lot of ground to cover before supper, and before sunset." He realized he was a tad bit snappish with Phil so he adds, "Perhaps another day. You'll be seeing a lot of Ms. Butch, she'll be here for quite some time."
"I'll take your bags then," Phil says as he begins to get them then leave.
But Dr. Pawsky scares him away,"You're quite persistent today, aren't you, Phillip?"
Phillip expectedly rolls his eyes then leans back up. He bobs his head, for him and Nick to go, but before they disappear down the hallway Phil turns back around and calls, "Until then my Lady!"
I let out an uncontrollable giggle loud enough for him to hear. He grins a last time before turning back around and disappearing around a corner.
"Those boys!" The doctor groans as if they provoked a migraine.
"Oh, they're fine! I wouldn't have mind if they had taken my bag."
He abruptly smiles, and tauntingly points his finger at me, "And that's why you're here. You're mother tells me you trust nearly everyone."
"She didn't!" I scream. Anything that involved my mother channeled a whole bunch of emotions I didn't know how to control. Luckily enough, I had only dropped my bags.
Dr. Pawsky snapped his fingers, and a nearby worker, scrambled over with her head bowed. "Take Ms. Butch's bags to her room. 401."
"Yes, Sir." She mumbled before running off with my bags.
I wanted to know why his help had such slave like manorisms and why they were all around my age, when he begins to explain his self. "You're right. That's not the only reason you're here. But that's one of your main problems. According to your mother, you have a psychiatric disorder that seems to cross it's own diagnosis out. Please," He says then holds open a door to me. I take a peek inside to see the stereotypical study of an English man. I step inside only because I didn't want the whole mansion to know there was something wrong with me. He takes a handkerchief from his coat's pocket and dabs at beads of sweating pushing their way from his pores. "You see those boys you met today....and that girl you met in the hallway....really everyone in this mansion besides for me and the paid help are all ex-convicts."
"All?" I felt myself swallow down fear. It wasn't as if they were all serial killers.
"Well, besides for the other patients such as yourself." He stuffs a cigar in the corner of his mouth, "Regardless, Phillip has a way of..." He moves around me to find a match box out of his desk. Once his cigar is lit he takes a seat behind his desk and motions for me to do the same. "Taking advantage of the girls here. Every girl who walks through my front doors, is doomed from the start." He smokes a puff then continues, "Had I not said anything, and let him take your bags, he'd probably go through them. He'd know everything about you before you even got to your room, and you'd never know."
"When you say take advantage of do you mean--?"
"The boy has done everything in the book! My God. He's used and misused. Tricked and abused. Some of the girls had to leave here early, before they could even fully be treated, because he had gotten them pregnant. Usually, I wouldn't keep a playboy as dangerous as himself within my walls, but I had to. It was either that or he died. But after Linda...oh poor Linda...I was ready to send him back where he came from,, and that's when I recieved your case! Your marvelous case gave me a reason to believe I should keep him. He'll be good to test you with."
I had a question in mind all as he talked. But punctured by his last statement, I changed the course of conversation. "So you're saying, Doctor, that I'm an experiment to you?"
"No." He answers cooly and collected. Then another puff of smoke forms from the bottom of his cigar. He stared at me, waiting for me to cough or gag, but I'm assuming he didn't read my profile well enough. My neighborhood was smoke, my home was ventilated by it. Instead I stare right back at him, "But I must conduct experiments to help cure you."
Once I understood, I returned to my original question. "You said Phil either stayed here or died....you also said he was a convict, what was it he did that was so terrible?"
"Phillip?" The doctor asks distracted by some of the jumbled mess of papers on his desk.
"Yeah."
"He umm..." The doctor shuffles them around while he also pondered his mind for an answer. Then he slammed the papers in his hands down onto the desk, "Oh, what am I doing? I can't tell you. I'm a psychiatrist for bloody sake! Which means I'm a doctor, that took an oath, which states whatever anyone tells me is left confidential."
"So he talks to you as a patient as well?"
"I can't answer any specific questions about anyone here. However, as a group I can say 'yes' this is a form of reform for these young adults. The prisons and juvenile halls wouldn't let me have them if I didn't promise to change their ways."
"What if you fail at that?" I wondered.
He holds the cigar out of his mouth, as he turned sullen. "Then I not only fail my patients, but I fail myself."
After a moment of silence, I felt if my right to speak up. "That's not really the answer I'm looking for."
He grins before laughing, "I'm sure it's not." He began to dab at sweats invisble to me before sighing. "They return home to finish out whatever sentence that was issued to them."
Dr. Pawsky got up from his desk and fixed his suit before I even heard a knock. "Ah, speak of the devil!" I turn around in my seat to see Phil standing in the doorway with a cold, hard expression directed towards Pawsky. Once he sees me however, he smiles. His smile turns sarcastic once he looks back at Pawsky, "I thought that was illegal, Sir."
"What was?" Dr. Pawsky's smile towards him was also fake. His voice a little forced. However I realized he had a silent way of shutting Phil up. And to Phil that only made him angry.
He responds instead, "Sir, dinner is ready."
"Very well--!"
"And, Sir, if you don't mind I'd like to take Butch." I felt fluttery inside as I realized Phil had his eye stuck on me. After the encounter between the two I could tell the doctor's words were only to keep me away from his most undesirable patient. But of course, I saw right through it. Phil's voice wasn't really asking for permission, it was demanding permission, which didn't make me wait for the doctor's response.
"It will be seen to it, that that is all you will do."
Phil stops glaring at Pawsky and smiles at me, "Butch, let's head out of here."
"Okay." I try to behave smoothyl as I slide from my seat. I even tried to flatten out the blouse I had one, that wrinkled easily. As if we were walking down the aisle he offered me his arm, I linked mine with his as he led me around to the dining hall.
The stairs weren't winding. In fact they were stacked. They were almost rectangular. And besides for the four or five stories above his study, Pawsky also had a floor below. Where the lights were even dimmer, but a fire was roasting in the fireplace. You could hear the chatter, and smell the food, and for the first time in my life since my father left home, I was looking forward to dinner time.
At every table there were maybe one out of ten people that weren't in a grey uniform. Which meant, out of the estimated one thousand people sitting in the dining hall, one tenth of them weren't ex-convicts.
Phil sat us at a circular table in the corner that barely anyone was sitting at. Once we took a seat, the people there pretended to not even notice our existence. Phil ignored them, as they ignored him. "What is it you like to eat?"
I sat dumbfounded. I had never heard that question in my life. Even the blonde sitting across from me, looked up from her soup waiting for my response. "Food?" I respond stupidly.
She rolled her eyes and went back to ignoring us. Luckily for me, Phil was of good nature and laughed, "Yeah, but what kind?"
"Anything, I guess." I respond distantly. At my home, there were some nights, I'd prefer digging out of the garbage can, then going another night hungry.
He takes a basket of bisquits from the middle of the table and handed them to me, "I get it. You're not a picky eater."
Even though it wasn't a question he still expected an answer. He looked to me as he handed me the basket. I wasn't going to start my life's story. No one liked self-pity. Besides for that it was too long and too drab. Instead I just agreed, "Exactly."
"Well, I'll tell you what, I've been here since forteen years old. A whopping three years have passed and I still can't adjust to the English meat. My suggestion to you: skip it don't waste it." Then he flashes another grin before snagging the salad bowl.
"Got it!" I say, just to get some words out there. To let him know I was listening, and just a tad bit slow in his presense. As he tried to eat, to avoid an awkward silence, I searched the room for a conversation starter. A few animal heads over the fire peice, a bunch of paintings hung on the wall, and then people at their tables. When I came to a dead end there I took the salad bowl from him, with a sheepish grin, while racking my brain for something. And that's when I remembered I was the new girl, I could ask anything without sounding stupid.
"So how long have you and Nick been friends?"
The same blonde girl sounded like she was choking, as she tried hiding a snicker. He cut his eyes at her then looked to me, "We haven't."
"Been friends?"
He looked back at the girl, "Nope."
"Oh, I just assumed since--"
"The dude's a loser."
I definitely didn't think so, but I wasn't going to just come right out and say it. "How so?"
"He's a wuss."
The blonde found it her invitation into the conversation, sassily she whispered, "From what I've heard he used to cry in his cell."
"But that's just a rumor. You weren't in that cell with him, were you?"
She rolled her eyes at me again, which really made me believe she wasn't there to make friends. When Phil doesn't say anything to her or me, I decide to try the salad. I got a cut up piece of lettuce, a cherry tomatoe, and a crouton in my stomach and then I felt it complain. It had acted as if I had eaten a grand Thanksgiving dinner, so I gave up on dinner.
"He's classified as a 418." Phillip says at last.
"Meaning?"
He wiped his mouth before turning to me, to tell the story. "At lunch a kid said something bad, now whether it was to him or his brother, Nick took it to heart. He only stabbed the kid with a fork."
"He's here because of that?" I ask bewildered searching the dining room for him.
"No," Phil touches my hand to stop me from looking. "The kid had some strange disorder where his blood wouldn't clot, and nobody even knew he had it until he dropped dead."
I tried to pretend it didn't disturb me, but I had just shoke hands with a murderer. "The kid had hemophilia?"
"Yeah, that! He died real slowly." Phil drank down some water as he waited for some reaction from me.
"That's a shame," Was all I could mutter before I pretended to try and eat dinner again.
Phil waves me off, "The story goes he didn't even do it. Even the judge knew Nick was taking the blame for his brother. His brother was on his second strike, and the judge had told him his third strike lands him on the chair. So Nick covered for him,"
"Does Pawsky know this?"
"Just call him Lee. And I'm sure he does. Anyone can take just one look at that whimp and know he wouldn't hurt a fly."
I follow Phil's mean gaze over two tables. Nick glared right back at him. But once he saw me, he dropped his gaze to his plate.
"To be honest, I think anyone that would do something like that, isn't a whimp but courageous and...admirable."
At first I was too occupied sipping at my water to wonder where Phil's response was but once I put down my glass, his expression flickered like a candle. Astonished he says, "You know what? You're absolutely right!" He glances around before saying, "Before it's Lights Out, would you like a quick tour of the place?"
"Are we allowed to?" I ask. I was sent there because I was constantly getting in trouble. I didn't want to get sent away, uncured, because I couldn't behave for one day.
"Yeah, we're not prisoners here."
He dropped our plates in a dirty dishes ben then reached behind for my hand, before hurrying the two of us out of the dining room. Outside of the dining hall the mansion was extremely quiet. The lamps that were probably older than Pawsky's grandmother provided very dim lighting, and some were simply out. Phil didn't say a word as he led me up and up the staircase. I was afraid that if I said anything, like asked him where we were going, I'd only get us caught. But finally the stairs stopped, so he led me down the hall to a door. It's frame was considered small comparing it to the other grand door's of the mansion. He pushed it open to a room where no lights were on, and it felt no heat was flowing through. However ahead of us on the floor, was a blue ora.
He pulled me in with him then shut the door behind us. He hurries over to the blue ora, then pulled down a mini-staircase. Once he heard me sigh, he smiled promising, "Just these and we're done."
"Alright."
"You go before me," He says holding his arm out to lead me up them. "At the top just push the window up." When I pushed the glass window up, I got a grand blast of fresh, evening air. And to no surprise it was so refreshing because of all the plants in Pawksy's rooftop garden.
It was nearly mystical in the moonlight. Rain drops dazzled on the leaves of his exotic plants. After I caught my breath again, I walked over to the railing of the rooftop. "You can get a really great view from up here." Phil said from behind.
"Everything is just so beautiful." I could see lights in the far distance, but within Pawsky's grounds I could only see shadows and the tops of his trees.
"Like you." I froze. Goosebumps standing up on my skin. Heart fluttering like a bird trying to escape. Phillip was right behind me, whispering this in my ear. Before I could even respond, he pressed his lips on the side of my neck. Then slowly pulled his lips away. He wrapped his arms around me in a hug from behind with his chest to my back.
"Where's all this coming from?" I stammered.
"I dunno," I could feel him shrug, "I guess I just felt this way the second you stepped through those doors. And I knew exactly what I wanted to do for you."
"That's extremely adorable but..."
"You know? I'm not really a jerk. I just...I thought maybe you liked Nick, and I hoped if I talked badly enough about him you'd lose interest...I was just jealous I guess. But that's not normally me."
When I fail to say anything he steps from our hug and stands against the railing next to me.
"I'm guessing Lee told you about me." He mumbles, refusing to make eye contact with me.
"Not everything. Just you were facing a death sentence if you stayed there."
He nods, "I lived a bad life, and I get that now, Lee has showed me the error to my ways and I just really wanna change but I also--I dunno how to say this--I just really like you."
Once I thought he had suffered long enough trying to convince me of his sincerity I finally pressed my finger to his lips, "Shh," When he stops talking in confusion, I move in to kiss him. After I step back he opens his eyes and asks,
"You want me to take you back to your room?"
"Must we really go so soon? We just got up here and it's so....breath taking."
Phil frowns, "If you don't want to, you don't have to stay here. I think you're just being nice,"
"What?! I just kissed you!"
"Was it just a courtesy kiss?" He asks with disbelief in his eyes.
"No, it was a I-like-you-too-kiss, Idiot!"
He laughs, "So you want to stay up here all night then?"
"Will they find us?" I ask as he went back under the glass shelter.
He shook his head, then pulled a towel from behind a potter. "Not unless they followed us up here. But I come up here a lot, when I just need some alone time. Especially at night, so I can gaze up at the stars." He lays it out horizontally then grins to me, "I suppose I can share the towel."
I woke up to both of Phil's arms wrapped around me. Even as the sun came up, I felt the chills of last night still biting at both of our skin's. I slightly rubbed at my arms waking him up. He yawned, released me from his hold to stretch, then grinned, "Hey."
"Mornin'."
"Breakfast?"
"Let's do it."
As we came down the stairs to get to the dining hall Nick was bent down on the first level's stairs, tying his shoes. His curious, wondering eyes landed on us and stared. He stared from when we were on the third level stairs all the way down. But I wouldn't have known if I wasn't staring back. When we reached him jealousy overtook Phil as he cowtipped him over. Nick wasn't much for words as he got up on his feet, tugging at his clothes, while his face flushed an angry red.
"Fix that staring problem, alright?" Phil snarled.
I was in too much shock to do or say anything. Speechless I stood frozen.
"Mr. Lawls." Dr. Pawsky's hand appeared on Phil's shoulder before even his whole body did. "My study, please."
Phil turned to me with wide eyes but Dr. Pawsky spoke again, "Ms. Cooper is a big girl. She can get breakfast on her own and definitely knows how to keep her own hands to herself." Without a last look or word they turned and went up the stiars.
Nick stood in front of me with his gaze lowered to the ground. Finally I could speak again. "Can I sit with you today?" I ask.
He lifted his head but never his gaze, "Only if you want to." He didn't say it but I knew he meant he didn't want my pity.
"I do," I honestly admit.
We were barely seated at his table for five minutes, without conversation, before he blurts, "He's a real pain in the ass, ya know? No one here likes him." The redheaded girl sitting next to me, looked sympathetic as she rubbed his back. "He's just passive with girls. I don't even get, why you like him."
I swallow down some warm tea to make up for the insanely dry toast I had just eaten. "He's just a swooner."
The redhead looked annoyed with me, "Yeah, he's really romantic." She growls sarcastically.
"Every girl wants a manic bipolar." He adds.
That caught my attention.
"That's the doctor's diagnosis?"
He nods, "He's supposed to take pills for it but he spits them out whenever the staff give them to him."
"When he does end up taking them, does that help?"
"He's.... tolerable when he takes his meds." The redhead says wording herself carefully.
"But it's not just his disorder that's unlikeable! It's him and his malicous personality." Nick adds.
I rack my head for the right thing to say to him, "I'm sure if you told Pawsky about your feud he wouldn't make you work with him."
He stops spooning around his oatmeal, "We don't work together." He looks to me confused.
"Oh! I just assumed since...."
"No. Thank God, we don't work together."
I was happy to get away from the redhead. It was as if she marked Nick as her personal territory. And didn't want me anywhere near him. So instead of letting him do his job after breakfast, I followed him around the mansion. I pretended to have thousands of questions about his job, when really all I wanted was to have a conversation with him. His janitoral services weren't all that impressive. But once he cooled down from the incident with Phil, he held very interesting, thought provoking conversation. After a while I just started to sound stupid next to him, so I just began to listen. His accent was so enhancing, I would've listened all day. "Lee is like the father I never had, ya know? The guy I can always talk to."
"How long have you been here?" I ask, sticking my hands in the back of my pant's pockets.
He has to think, "The incident happened about four years ago I believe..." He keeps thinking before saying, "Yeah, I was only sixteen."
He referred to it confidentially, which made me really wonder, "Are the rumors true about what happened?"
He stops scrubbing the wooden floor, "What rumors?"
I knew I had crossed the line and felt horrible. I hoped to think up a marvelous lie. The cat had pulled my tongue then and there. As Nick's curiosity grew, Phil came just in time. "Sorry, Nick, I've got to steal Butch away from you. Doctor's orders."
Nick started scrubbing the floors again, pretending he didn't even hear him.
"I'll see you at lunch?" I suggest as Phil urgently pulled on my hand.
He looks up at Phil, then me, and smiles, "Sounds like a plan."
"What are you doing talking to that old guy?" Phil asks while he tried to play down his anger.
"Now you've got to be kidding. He's only twenty."
"He's old." He mumbles like a stubborn child.
"Then what are you doing doing harassing an old guy?"
He stopped walking and turned to me, "When I.....when my mood swings I get violent. I get these flashbacks from a distant time when I had to fight every and anyone to survive." His eyes return from the distant state they disappeared to. "But I'm sure you wouldn't understand that. I'm from a struggling background." He offered me his hand as we continued to stroll, I clutch onto it.
"I am too."
"How'd you afford it here then?"
"Dr. Pawsky."
He nods, "Lee's a good guy."
"I hear, but..."
"But?" He asks slowering his pace but bringing me closer to him as we neared Dr. Pawsky's study.
"I'm here for a year because of him."
He grins, "That's good."
"I don't see it that way."
"But you and I will have some time to get to know each other better. You've just to promise me you'll take me with you."
I throw him a courtesy laugh until I realize he was being totally serious. "How can I sneak you back with me?"
"I told you. I'm going to change. And it starts by me--"
"Taking your medicine." I finish with him. My smile vanishes the second I realized what I had said and that I couldn't recover my tracks.
He only thought about it for a minute, "Wait....my medicine?"He steps away from me, "Who told you I need medicine?"
"Nobody." I quickly lied.
"It was that damn whimp, wasn't it?!"
"No!" I continue with my lie, even though I sucked at it.
Before I could grab onto his arm he starts speeding down the hall to find Nick. I chase after him, hoping that if I called his name enough he'd stop. But he kept on. He tackled Nick down the stairs. I watched them tumble down the steps sincerely praying neither of the two would break their necks. All I heard though, was Phil yelling and cursing the whole way down.
Within only seconds of tumbling on the floor, two men dressed in white pull Phil off then inject a syringe in his neck that made his body fall lifelessly to the ground. Both men were indefinitely strong since I could see their muscles from a whole floor above. I watched as the man threw Phil over his shoulder like he was a sack of flower, then he carried him away. Once he was out of sight I hurried down to check on Nick.
The other man in white stood by his side as Nick layed crunched up on the ground. "Nick!" I shout, his beautiful eyes found me. I hurry to his side and fall on my knees, "Are you okay?"
The fall must've knocked the wind out of him because his voice was strained, "I'm fine." He pauses before asking, "Why'd you have to tell him?"
"I didn't even mean to!" My eyes filled with tears, "I'm so sorry! This is all my fault."
"What happened here?" I look up from Nick to Dr. Pawsky.
"Phillip." The man in white and Nick say at the same time.
"Yes, yes! I get that! But what exactly did he do?" Pawsky snaps.
The medic points to the top of the stairs then leads his finger down, without saying a word Pawsky understood. "Dear God." He pulls out his handkerchief again to dab at his forehead, "Alright! You, girl!" After his normal professional approach, this condescending language shocked me. "I sent Phillip to get you! You're past due for your session! I have other patients, you know."
I check down at Nick who was still struggling to get on his knees.
"Reginald! The boy!" Pawsky growls. In a swift motion that caused Nick no harm, Reginald lifted Nick then disappeared after the last medic. "Your session, Ms. Butch." I was in such a state of shock I didn't move, and Pawsky was losing patience because of it. Then I realized he adressed me with respect again, dispite his tone, so I made my feet move.
I hurriedly take my seat in front of his desk as he shut the door. "You have appeared to grow a liking to both boys, Ms. Butch."
It wasn't a question, however I felt the need to respond.
"Well, Dr. Pawsky, Nick is more of a man than a boy..."
"Which one do you like more?" He asks sitting on the edge of his desk, holding no tolerance for my punctuality.
"I can't answer that!" I argue.
"Of course you can!" He says pulling the match box, and a cigar from a box, "Everything said in here is confidential--"
"I get that."
"Did I include it helps progress? I gave your mother a rough estimate by saying you'd be gone a year. You can go sooner, or you can leave later, it's really all up to you."
"Why are you making me do this?" I ask.
He smiles then puts down the cigar and matchbox to pick up a notepad. There wasn't even a writing utensil in sight. "Per say you had to choose which one to save. You have to pick one boy that won't end up on the chair, who would it be?"
That's where I put my foot down.
"No!" I roar, "You've gone way too far now! I'm not choosing who I'd kill!"
Even though I was yelling to loudest of my ability he seemed still at ease. "I ask for a reason, you see. Those two are constantly fighting. I can't happen to find a civil agreement. When the services come to report their progress, and the report goes back negative--"
"I honestly don't believe this has anything to do with me, nor my disorder."
I expected for him to say "Very well." Then actually do his job but he says instead, "All I want from you is your help. They won't listen to me. Think of how you feel for these boys--"
"By choosing which one I want dead?!"
"Jesus Christ!" He screams, "I can't go a bloody sentence without you interupting me, do you understand how unnerving that is?!" He angrily shoves a cigar in his mouth, lights it, then blows out a puff. He calms down a lot, the vein that was starting to bulge out of his forehead disappeared again. "You don't have to choose who you want to live. You have to talk to them. Because if you don't, perhaps both of them will end up..." He draws his finger across his neck and makes a disturbing sound.
"I get it." I groan.
He smiled, then said the expected, "Very well then! Shall we start your session?"