The Psychologist

My knuckles were turning white as I gripped the bed. I held on tight like that would save my life. I should move, find a way to get out, call for help, anything at all. Instead, I'm standing here crippled by fear, having an anxiety attack. I was losing the last bit of fresh air I had.

"Please! Why are you doing this?" I screamed for the 5th time.

"I'll do anything you want, anything at all, but just don't leave me here" my pleas continue to fall on deaf ears.

The air became thick, congested, contaminated, no longer light, no longer God's creation. It was now tainted by sin, dark, evil, surrounding me, ready to kill. Tears rolled down my eyes hot and fast. I became a river in a storm, rough. I was weeping like the sky prepared to destroy ships, nations, anything that came in my way. I was angry, and no matter how many tears I cried, it would never be able to save me. That didn't stop me, though, because once it was out, I couldn't stop. In all my wildest dreams, this wasn't the way I imagined it.

"Don't you have a heart? A thin thread anything that you can find in your chest to stop this torture!?" I was desperate at this point.

My eyes were on fire, blazing. My tears were burning, scorching. I had only a few minutes left which I should use to escape, but instead, my mind chose that moment to reminisce. To go back to the stupid situation that got me here.

I was naive, never the wild child, not at heart, mind or soul. I was naive. I never tried to understand the world. Always saw people as being kind and pure. That doesn't mean things that people did weren't affecting me. I just ignored it, brushed it off, but I've allowed it to go too far.

I was sitting in the park on the crooked bench by the lake. The outside was chilly, but I didn't care. I wanted to suffer, just freeze to death. This cold is nothing compared to how numb my heart has become. I was tired, exhausted by life. I no longer wanted to live, so I was sitting on that bench trying to muster up the courage to be one with the snow finally. To eventually go back into the cold ground the world wanted me to be.

That didn't happen though, as my tears froze on my face, someone appeared in my peripheral vision. Closer to the lake by the grey washed out fountain stood a lonesome gent, statue-like in a designer suit. His face was clean-shaven and utterly profound. A pair of round sunglasses hid his eyes. He stood there just gazing into the distance.

He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His hair was done very nicely, with a noticeable wavy form to the black strands. His forehead was almost flat and square, large and imposing, but not laughably so. It looked to be creased like he was deep in thought. The most striking feature was his sharp jawline. It made his face masculine and handsome. The way he stood somehow made him seem more authoritative than his aura already suggested. He looked as if he had a secret you would enjoy hearing.

I was intrigued by his presence, but I was too scared to go up to him. A few minutes passed, and I was back drowning in my sadness. I really couldn't go back home. I couldn't handle being raped every night by my dad. I've always seen commercials on TV talking about speaking up. People writing comments saying how stupid we are because we allow it. None of them understands, it's easy to see things from the outside and judge what's on the inside, but if you enter the inside, you'll see how difficult it is.

I mean, how do you win over the Mayor? Someone every single soul trusts in the county. Your friends, mom, and family members, no one believes you.

"Hi, may I sit next to you?" I heard the voice close to my ear, making me jump.

"Ummmm, I guess."

"I'm sorry if I scared you, but I couldn't help but notice you over here. You look very sad. What’s wrong."

"Why would you care?"

"We’ll pretend that I do. Pretend that I'm your best friend in the whole world. I'm just here to listen and support. I know this sounds stupid, but I'm a psychologist," he took out his business card to show me.

That's when I made the stupid decision to pour my heart out to a total stranger. The next thing I knew, I was crying on his shoulder. He was delightful. He was listening to what I had to say. Just like a counsellor would, so I trusted him. 

He left my side to get us drinks. He returned with two sodas and tacos. I wasn't thinking; I was depressed and hungry, so I ate, and I drank. Then I started seeing doubles. I stood up quickly, but I was so dizzy I fell in the icy snow.

"Arrrrreeeee yyyyyoooouuuuu ooookkkkaaaayyyy", I heard him speaking in slow motion.

I tried to reply and move but couldn't. I felt paralysed like I was in a coma on the verge of dying. Then everything went black. When I woke up, I'm in this cottage about to die.

My mind snapped back to the present, and I made my last attempt at screaming for help before I ultimately gave up. At this point, even if someone finds me, there is no way of getting me out. The house was on fire, and here I was trapped in it. I never got to live fully, never got to conquer the world. I was born to suffer and die simply. I just gave up accepting my fate, looking for the small things at this moment to appreciate. 

The flame burns with colours I never thought it would. Videos of house fires bear little resemblance to the real thing. The TV shows a small and cold, black smoke billowing toward the sky. In the real thing, the radiant heat is intense, scorching my skin. It's more like a colossal campfire than anything else. The smell dominates every breath, and the flames are louder than I expected, as the wood crackles and breaks, it roars as they consume everything around me. 

My skin felt like it was melting. I was now coughing furiously. Is this the way Olaf felt? The fire was spreading fast, and soon I was burning in it. I couldn't scream loud enough. I couldn't cry enough tears to stop this pain. As I took my last burning breath, I heard him.

"You said you wanted to die, so I just made your wish come true."