NEGLECTED

Chapter Two

KEATON ADLER

Notes

-The idea of therapy amuses patient.

-Patient is unwelcoming to the idea of seeking help from stranger. 

-Patient is glad sessions aren't on her dime, financial problems?

-Patient won't adjust to setting. 

-Patient avoids more than a simple mention of parental figures.

-Patient fiddles a lot.

-Patient stares at messy notebook on coffee table. Temptation present.

-Patient d̶i̶s̶l̶i̶k̶e̶s̶  hates boss.

-Patient is going to make this harder than it has to be.

Personal Notes

-Make room more 'friendly'. Colours, natural light etc.

-Don't tell Mum what patient said about her painting. 

-Add more scrap papers to temptation notebook.

Closing my notebook I slid it off my lap and onto the seat beside me. Ffion Brisden's almost zombie like eyes didn't shy  away or even try to hide the fact she had been staring at me. Instead, her plump pinks lips twitched at the corners, pulling up into a slow, teasing smirk. 

Somehow her eyes looked darker from our last session. A couple days ago her eyes were the colour of the beginning of a storm, today the were as dark as the tip of a grey lead pencil. Her eyes portrayed so much emotion yet at time almost seemed still, like a porcelain dolls.

"Ms Brisden, how have you been since I last saw you?" I wondered letting my eyes fall down to her figure and the clothes she wore today. So different from last time. She was in a short summer dress in the middle of winter, a grey cardigan draped over her shoulders, her arms crossed over her chest both to keep warm and not bear herself and her breasts to me. Her inky hair was thrown lazily into a bun at the back of her head, little strands falling over her face, her long thick eyelashes catching those tiny strands and holding them hostage until she brushed them out of her face. 

My eyes drooped to her long slender neck that bore a small vertical scar under her angular jaw. Then I followed her body down, down and down until the next bit of bare skin that wasn't covered by an article of clothing; her thighs. Smooth, pale thighs pressed right up against each other, looking almost like two tempting pillows as she sat with her legs crossed at her ankles. 

All this today and just two days ago she was in leggings and a hoodie. 

"Great" She boomed, her voice all too cheery for someone who sat without a smile. And just as the thought passed she opened her mouth as if having read my mind, throwing me a joyous, obviously fake smile. Whether it was fake or not it was wide, believable to the untrained eye and...sweet. 

"How so?" I attempted to sound interested when I was anything but. I wanted to be blatantly straight with her and tell her to cut the act, but that was one of the first things I'd learnt in my studies. Never challenge their feelings. If they say they're great, treat them as if they are, even if it is obvious they are anything but. Something about Ffion Brisden made me want to challenge everything I knew