Chapter II

Therapy

I sit up in bed at eight in the morning.

I yawn, dragging myself from under the covers. I shiver as I dig out clothes from my dresser drawer, settling on some black Jeans and a dark blue long- sleeved shirt.

I take a quick shower and braid my long brown hair down my back.

I head into my kitchen and make my beloved tea.

I soon sit down at my kitchen table with bacon, eggs, and a tiny fruit salad.

I sip my tea.

I have therapy in two hours, then I have to get to work at eleven, then I have to get to my other job at eight tonight.

I'm a choreographer, yes, but what do I do while I don't have a job open for me?

I dance, but I'm an exotic dancer.

Yes, big shocker.

I'm doing what I love, and that's dancing.

That's all that matters.

A choreographer by day, and a stripper by night.

I hope I don't see Jessica.

I finish my food angrily just thinking about her.

I hate her.

I lock my door behind me at nine forty-five and unlock my car door.

I sit in the driver seat in silence as I scroll through my list of songs.

I hate mornings.

I made sure to drive with my music blasting. I won't be late for therapy.

I don't like to be late.

I pull up to the therapist's office.

The neighborhood looked...decent.

Children ran around and played with each other while the mothers gossiped and talked.

Folks getting along just fine.

I opened my car door and stood up.

I looked around as the children ran and the women gossiped and the men drank and talked.

I spotted one particular man, one young man who stared back at me.

We locked eyes. His sinister, maniacal eyes to my innocent, confident eyes.

His friends began to look at me too.

Oh, goodness. What if they approach me?

I tear my gaze from the man and walk into the office.

I look around. I'm the only one here.

Maybe this place isn't open? It was the only one nearby. Maybe I should leave?

"Hello." A woman says to me as I look around the office.

"Oh, hello." I say.

"You must not be from around here."

"No, actually."

"Well, It's not a bad thing. People come from all around to see me."

"To see you? You're the therapist?"

"Yes. My name is April."

"My name is June."

April chuckles. I look at April.

She's short. With dark skin and blonde hair pinned into a bun. She has brown eyes.

"What?" April asks.

"You look wise." I tell her.

"Well, thank you." She says.

"Do you know who this guy is? I locked eyes with him earlier."

"Tell me about him." April says. She opens the door to her office.

"Come in. Sit right here."

I sit down and sink into a dirty white lounger chair.

"Well," I begin. "He had really black hair and dark green eyes. He looked very....mischievous."

"Do you like him?" April asks.

"Well, I wouldn't say that. I would say he looks very attractive."

"Hmph." April grunts. "You just described my son to me."

My eyes widen. "Really? Oh, April. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." April stops me. "I'm not offended. As a matter of fact, you have that quite right, his description."

There's a comfortable silence.

"Tell me," April says. "Why are you really here?"

April's face is serious.

"Well, um, I have anger problems."

"Anger issues?"

"Yes."

"I never would've guessed."

"Yeah....It's not obvious, right?"

April chuckles again.

"What's his name?" I ask.

"My son's?"

"Yes."

"Alix."

"With an "I"?"

"Yes. Alix with. an I."

April and I talked for what seemed like forever, and eventually my eyes opened.

In my bed.

At home.

In the morning.

I don't remember coming home, or going to sleep.

I sit up with an intense headache.

I shake my head with my hands and get out of bed, starting my morning routine.

Taking a shower.

Making my tea.

Today, there's nothing to do.

I sit on my sofa in my French decorated living room watching a horror movie.

My doorbell rings.

Not now. My goodness, not now.

I slosh over to my door and open it

There's a tall man holding a book.

"Hello." He says.

I glare at him, and before I open my mouth.

His book falls.

So my yelling was replaced by an "Oh".

He doesn't move to pick it up. Instead, he looks at me, watching. Unmoving.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"I need you to come with me."

I chuckle.

"In Hell, sure."

He glares back down at me as we shoot daggers at each other.

"Come with me, please." He says, more than asks. A forced smile forms on his lips.

"No." I say.

He snatches me by the wrist and drags me to his car waiting nearby.

"Hey! Let me go!"

"Quiet!" The man grits at me as he opens the door and shoves me in.

I scowl, undefeated as I quickly look to my side to see a man.

The same man with the green eyes.

He jabs a syringe into my neck.

I slump over into his lap.

I wake up in a pattened room with no windows.

All I see is the door and a bed.

The bed I sit up in.

There's another intense headache.

I roll my eyes as a man walks in.

The guy! The one with the black hair and the eyes! Alix!

I throw the covers off of me as he closes the door.

I stand up to see myself.

I still have my clothes on. Good.

I look up at Alix to see him staring back at me.

"Hello." He says.

I shiver.

"Are you cold?" He asks.

I shiver again.

What's wrong with me? His voice makes me feel weird. It makes me tingle in places that it shouldn't.

His voice is deep, menacing, and hoarse, as if he just woke up.

He smiles. "You like my voice."

He's pretty smart, too.

"Does it make you tingle?" He asks.

"What?"

"You heard me."

I glare at Alix.

"N- no."

"I don't believe you."

I hold in my shivers and mutter. "It's cold."

"Hmph." Alix grunted.

He still didn't believe me.

We share a deep uncomfortable glare with each other before I yell at him.

"Why did you bring me here? Why me? Is it because we locked eyes?"

"No." Alix says. "I want you here."

"What? Why?" I shriek.

"You must not get it, June. I want you here."

"I get it, Alix. I don't want to be here."

"How do you know my name?" He asks.

"How do you know my name?" I ask back.

He grimaces and steps closer to me before shoving me back down onto the bed.

I try to sit up, but he pins me down by the arms and looks me dead in the eyes.

"You're fiesty," He says. "But I have a temper too."

I grimace and glare back at him, gritting my teeth.

"You must not know who I am, but I own you now." Alix says.

"No you don't! You'll never own any part of me!" I yell.

"That's where you're completely wrong!" He shakes me as he says this, scaring me.

"Stop!" I yell.

"I own you, goddammit!" He grits down at me before planting a kiss on me.

He cups my cheek with his right hand as his other hand holds the back of my head, like a posession.

I push him away.

"You're crazy!" I yell.

"I know." He says. He licks his lips as he begins to chuckle.

"Who told you my name?" He asks.

"Who told you mine? I ask back again.

"I have my resources."

"So do I."

He grins.

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