NEGLECTED

Chapter Seventeen

FFION BRISDEN

I hated when he smiled at me. Partially because I envied his perfectly straight white teeth but mainly because every time he did smile my way I was reminded that this feeling inside my chest, this stupid gut wrenching crush I had was not only on Keaton, but on my psychiatrist. 

And apparently somebody made some rule about patient and shrink relationships being a no go outside of these four walls I was currently sitting within. Here I was complaining about not being able to pursue Keaton, when I never actually knew if something with me was something he wanted. Probably not. 

A loud whistle broke me from my trance. I blinked a couple times, shaking my head as I sat up straight, looking away from the window and to the very man I was day dreaming about. The corner's of Keaton's mouth stretched, a handsome smile blessing his face as he tilted his head to the side slightly, bringing his hand back to his lap. 

"There she is. Where did you just go?" He asked, eyes dropping to my bottom lip as I gnawed on it with my teeth. I almost immediately stopped biting, Keaton's eyes bouncing away and back up to mine. 

"Huh?" I didn't understand the question. Keaton's smile widened a fraction more, my eyes snapping to the single dimple on the right side of his face. Wow...that was a new. 

"When you zone out, you go somewhere. Where?" My eyes widened in understanding as my mouth formed an 'o' shape. Keaton wanted to know where I was and what I was thinking about? Yeah, I wasn't about to give him the truth. I offered Keaton a smile as I tapped the side of my head. 

"Members only. Sorry" I replied, Keaton sucking one of his cheeks into his mouth as he fought back a bigger smile than the one he was already wearing. 

"Maybe one day then?" He suggested, my heart skipping a beat. I pushed the ooey gooey emotions I was feeling for Keaton down into the deepest pit of my stomach before offering him a overly fake sympathetic smile. 

"I don't see that happening. Sorry" Keaton nodded his head slowly, sitting back in his chair. He lifted his hips, frowning at me as he readjusted his position, resting his arms on the arm rests of his chair. Holy...

"That's too bad to hear" I shrugged, pushing those same ooey gooey emotions that had started looking for an exit out of my body, back down, hoping they'd dissolve. I needed to stop feeling like this. I didn't reply, Keaton and I falling into silence as I waited for him to speak, but he didn't. His stare unwavering and intimidating bored into my soul and as much as I wanted to look away, I didn't. I was not going to let this man outstare me. And I didn't have to wait long, because the moment I felt an itch in the bench of my arm and reached to scratch it, Keaton's eyes snapped down. 

"Don't" His voice was so solid and powerful I immediately froze, my exposed skin littering with goose bumps. His eyes jumped back and forth between mine and my arm and whilst I knew what he was thinking, there was only one thing I could think of. I'd won the stare off. I slowly inched my hand toward my arm, watching Keaton's frown deepen. 

"Ffion" He dragged out, looking up at me through his eyebrows. There was no doubt in my mind before I had my mini melt down and shared the abuse I'd received from a foster mother of mine, Keaton had noticed my scratching. A lot of people I've met make the connection when they notice my slightly shaky hands and the way I'm subconsciously drawn to scratching the crook of my arm. 

With a huff I closed my hand into a fist, fighting the urge to scratch where my foster mother had been jabbing me with needles and pumping heroin through my veins. I had shaky hands from withdrawals because I'd become addicted to the shit and willingly did it to myself after I'd left that foster house. It wasn't until I got my first job in being a teacher aid that I forced myself to stop something I wasn't going to get over in months. It's been years and still, very occasionally I get the urge, not to get high, but to feel the jag of a needle, and that terrifies me.