The Patient's Painkiller is a Psycholologist

Chapter 17

A lot had happened, a lot. It’s almost overwhelming really… especially how there was so much, so much noise, so much to do, and now… Nothing.

It was always a repetition of things, no matter where he was. This place would be no different.

White. White. White.

This place was bland and empty despite the amount of things that surrounded him. Not even the police mixed with the ambulance lights outside, brought any colour into the place.

He was being dragged away, arms bound. voices swirled around, whispers slandered him, fearful and angry eyes watched him pass by.

Then Silence.

He sat quietly in that empty room, trapped arms and trapped inside, wanting to grip and bang his head on any surface at the turn of events.

A knock on the door.

Knock
Knock Knock

was the rhythm.

“Good morning, Mr Wilson. I am here to help you during your stay here” came in a man.

He wore a blue knitted vest over his white shirt, his hair was barely kept, combed to the side. There was a stubble sprayed on his jaw, bringing death to the sharp line. His glasses were square, reflecting off the bright lights from the ceiling, his smile controlled.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, name is Peter Parker” the man introduced as he slowly approached.

Wade kept his eyes on him, not daring to miss a chance in case this man were to jump on him, take advantage of his tied up situation and beat him.
He could barely see from behind the fabric he had thrown on his head in a panic, the edges of his vision blurred by the edges of the cut out for his eyes.

“May I sit?” his voice was like a dam, water being kept under control when it should be running free. He spoke slowly and paused with every action, calculating very word, every movement, every breath.

“I must say…I regret not shaving”

This man…Parker, Wade recalled, was odd. He didn't seem to be like his other therapist who was overly sympathetic and often lost his patience when Wade refused to participate in anything.

Parker had these eyes that were keen to every movement. They’d snap to every finch Wade had, glance at any hitch of breath Wade did.
Now that he was closer, Wade could see his eyes were droopy, long lashes that seemed to tap against the glass of his glasses, bottom lashes that curled towards his heavy eye bags. His eyes were a deep brown, much like coffee he smells like, like dirt he should be lying beneath for even coming close to Wade- for even pretending to be anything he is not.

He wasn’t the only one who could see through others… Wade could too. He could tell how guileful his movements were, how his eyes smile softened only at the right moments, how his dark dark eyes paused on Wade at the right times.

“Good morning, Mr Wilson” greeted the familiar voice from the ruckus around him “You seem to have had a busy morning”

Wade couldn’t see properly,,,, his mask was twisted and covering one of his eyes. It was noisy and his arms were still tied snuggly behind his back. He didn't sleep well and there were people he had never seen, all in white and grey tones of clothing except for the man that now sat in front of him.

He wore blue.

Wade turned his head slightly, trying to get a proper look at who was in front of him. Who was the owner of the gentle voice that stood out from the rest.

A pair of worried soft brown eyes looked at him, a smile present on the clean shaven face. He looked young, brunette seemed to have been brushed properly this time, seeming more well kept together.
It was Peter Parker.