X A V I E R

Chapter 1

"Xavier, please come in. Make yourself comfortable."

The gruff voice was the only thing that seemed to reach me. My eyes ran over a large window that would usually have a plain wall.Everything was a large blur, the only thing I could focus on was the large red couch the doctor had pointed out for me.

Flashes of images kept coming in and out of my vision, my hand grabbing my head until it slowly disappeared from my mind.

"Now, I understand that you've been having. . . Visions? Would you mind telling me about them?"

Staring at a blank white ceiling, I slowly breathed in and out. My hands shook as I tried hard to press them against the cushions of the couch to stop them.

"I . . . I don't know what to tell you. I don't understand them. "

The sound of lead scratching and running across the paper echoed back to me, the small notions keeping me grounded. More flashes kept coming, random symbols and pictures of people I've never seen before running across my gaze.

"Faces and symbols . . . that's all I can see."

The scratching stopped, I could vaguely feel his eyes on me. But I was already use to the same look when I had told others about what I've been seeing. My doctor was no exception.
He cleared his throat.

"Have you been in any accidents that involve head injuries?"

"No. I haven't been in any injuries since the day I was born."

"Have you tried any illegal substances in the past few months?"

"None that I know of," I glanced toward him.

Dr. Velin nodded slowly, his eyes finding it's way back to my face. The movement of the pencil in his hand had stopped.

"Is there any sign of mental disorders in your family history?"

I chuckled slightly, the small notion halting the pictures in my head.

"i've looked, many many times before this appointment. I couldn't find anything. "

He sighed, setting down his clipboard. 

"How many counslers and speacilist have you contacted before me?"

"6"

"And what did they all say?"

"That I can't . . . I can't be helped."

Dr. Velin laughed, getting up from where he sat. His clipboard and pencil were now discarded to the counter on the other side of the room.

"I hate to say something that many have said before me, but I'm afraid that I can not help you either ," he leaned back against the counter. "I have been known for knowing if my clients can be helped or be left to insanity. You are one of the few that I can not offer my help too.

I should've felt anger or pain, I should've felt something. But these feelings have already been brought up times and times before, with no improvement.

"There has to be something you can suggest or try that can help me. I'll do anything, I just need the images to stop."

I didn't like that my voice had gone up to sound like I was begging. But I couldn't just live on like this, never getting one ounce of sleep through the nights, repeatedly rejecting friends due to my fear of the visions.

"Xavier, you have to understand,"he broke the silence." Many come to me for help, like you have. But most clients I've worked with, their mental illness was a cause of a severe accident, alcohol or drug abuse, or mental illness from their family history."