Disequilibrium

Part 5: Denouement - Scene 6

Session five

When I sit down in the conference room for our session, Williams orders the officer to take off the handcuffs.

The cuffs never bothered me much, and I know she's doing it as some sorry excuse for an apology, but I don't say anything against it. I look at her like nothing's the matter, studying the dark circles under her eyes or the way her hair isn't as pristine as the first day I met her. Dark curls, looking as soft as Mrs. Jeong's, frame her face unlike before, making her look more normal than professional. It baffles me, actually: how a woman can change so much just by doing something so little.

When the officer doesn't move, Williams scoffs. "Oh come on, he won't do anything to me. Just look at him."

They're both staring at me now, which makes me avert my eyes to my hands instead. Some strange silence hangs in the air for about a minute or a little more, heavy, before the officer sighs and takes out a small set of keys from his pocket.

It only takes one turn to be free, and I instinctively rub my wrists even though they hadn't been on for long. "I hope you know what you're doing," the officer says before shoving both handcuffs and keys into his pocket and leaves, slamming the door after him.

Williams rolls her eyes and says something under her breath, so quiet I can't even grasp a word, before she shifts in her seat and says, "How're you feeling?"

I never knew how much I hated that question until she says it. I finally look at her again with weary eyes, watching that tentative smile on her face and the way her thumb glides along the surface of the other. She sits there and waits for an answer, not speaking or moving or anything until I let out a long sigh and slouch in my seat.

"I feel like shit."

"You look like it, but I didn't want to be rude."

I almost laugh at that. I know it's the right reaction, but I can't bring myself to do it. So the only thing that comes from me is a short, quiet huff, and the tapping of my fingers against the table. The scratches from the last session are still there, looking just as angry as the first time I made them.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

That earns another huff. "It's finally up to me now?"

"I just figured you had something on your mind."

She's trying. I can tell. I figure I've screwed around for too damn long, and it almost makes me feel bad knowing I caused those dark circles and unkempt hair. It isn't even a secret that the entire thing is weighing on me too. Thoughts of him haven't stopped. They never will. And the only thing I want to do is run as far away from that room as I possibly can, but instead I say, "I dreamt about him."

"About who?"

"Him."

It doesn't take a genius to know who I'm talking about, and I thank God Williams wasted enough money on higher schooling so I don't have to explain myself. She nods for a moment, thinking, then flips to a fresh page on her notebook but doesn't start writing. Instead, she stares at me.

"A good dream?"

"Not really."

"Nightmare?"

I shrug. "You tell me." When she doesn't say anything, I continue. "I was standing on this lake, see. Not by it or anything, but on it. It happened before. But this time, he was on land instead of in my arms. I tried calling to him and running to him but my legs wouldn't let me and he didn't hear me. Or he didn't want to hear me—I don't know. All I know is he walked away. I was screaming and he just left me there. He walked away, and I couldn't stop him. Then I woke up crying."