NEGLECTED

Chapter Six

FFION BRISDEN

Dr. Adl-Keaton didn't leave easily. He continued to ask questions, ones that were in no way relevant to the reasons why I sought him earlier today. I think he was worried, about me, for me. It was clear being in my apartment, just the two of us made him uncomfortable, yet he let himself marinade in it just for my benefit. Just so that I'd have someone in a moment of self doubt, and need. 

I could've called Amelia, I should've called Amelia, but deep down apart of me knew she wasn't the person I needed in that moment. I needed Keaton, and he, without hesitation stayed with me. He listened to my 'woe is me' complaints, but he also sat with me in silence, offering nothing but a blank stare, and a pair of bright blue eyes I easily distracted myself with. 

Keaton Adler was a beautiful man. He was intimidating, but soft; blunt, but wise and he spoke with such certainty I believed everything the man had to say. So far, there wasn't much he had said in the way of advice, but I think that was because he was still getting to know me and my personality before giving personalised advice. Still, when he did offer the occasional piece of advice, it went straight to heart, not a word ignored. 

Keaton had done the same thing I had the moment he entered my apartment hours ago; stalled. While apart of me wished it was because somebody wanted to actually spend time with me, I knew it was simply that Keaton was doing his job, making sure his patient was in a better condition to before the 'session'. 

It didn't matter that this wasn't a session, it certainly wasn't two friends discussing life one cold winter afternoon. I knew the second Keaton was back in his office, notebook in hand, everything I'd shared in confidence was going down on paper. 

I hate a psychiatrists relationship with pen and paper.

Keaton had almost grabbed the door handle to leave when he noticed the whiteboard stuck to the wall, the magnetic marker to it sitting on top. With Keaton's back to me, I was blind as to what he was doing, his broad shoulders and giant build blocking everything from my eye line. After a moment he looked over his shoulder, offered me a 'Good Night' before opening my apartment door, locking it, and then shutting it behind himself. 

I smiled to myself at the neat handwriting on my whiteboard, following a phone number. 

'Call me if you need me. I'll always answer'

-Dr. Keaton A

Now that he was gone, I stood from my couch, raising my arms above my head and stretching out my muscles before heading to the bathroom, needing a warm embrace. I never liked physical contact, in fact, I despised it. Someone else's skin touching mine, either sweaty or dry hands, a hug or a pat that lasts too long, I hated it all. I knew that was another thing I picked up from being thrown around from foster home to foster home at such a young age. I was never with a family long enough to create a deep connection where any type of physical contact was normal. 

Even when I was finally adopted, I was old enough to know the things I didn't like, but it also just so happened to be my adoptive family. Martin and Elaine Warren, my adoptive parents, never showed love in the way of physical affection, not only to me, but also towards their biological children. 

Mason and I grew close enough where we normalised hugging between the two of us. Even now as we're all adults Mason is the only person ever that I will ever willingly hug, but even then it's a quick couple seconds where it involves more back patting then arm wrapping. Paige and Darcy don't even smile at me, let alone hug me. If I don't get a glare, I get nothing.