Five Years Later
John's P.O.V
John was sweating, his palms damp and sticky as he wrung his fingers. He hated places like this. Hospitals, doctors, dentists and now counselling buildings. He didn't even know what they were called, but he knew he hated them. He hated having to wait outside in the uncomfortable, plastic chairs. He hated the white walls that made his head spin. He hated how the people working there fake smiled at him every time they walked past. He hated everything.
"Mr Johnson, please come in," said a smooth voice belonging to his new councillor, Martha Brown.
John saw the last victim/counselled person exit the room in a fit of tears and John sighed.
'Best get this over with.'
John walked into the room that the woman motioned him towards and was glad to see that the walls were a friendly yellow instead of piercing white.
"Have a seat," the woman said, so John sat down in the nearest chair.
"Can I call you John, or do you prefer Mr Johnson?" she said in a professional tone, not even cracking a grin at his name.
"John's fine."
"And you can call me Martha then, we can be on a first name basis." Martha smiled.
John nodded while Martha reached into her bag and pulled out a notepad.
"So, John. You were recommended to come and see me, would you like to tell me what the problem is?"
"I-I don't...where do I-"
"Start from the beginning, the way it began."
***
When John finally took Amory's advice to go and see a councillor, he told himself that he wouldn't tell them anything. He would be tight lipped, only answering simple questions that didn't dig into his past. But here he was now. Asked one little question by a woman he barely knew and he began pouring out his heart. He told her everything, from his parents leaving and living on the streets to the black cloaks taking him. When he began to cry Martha squeezed his arm gently and said "It's okay to cry, you have been through a very traumatic experience."
"That's n-not the reason I c-came though." John hiccuped through crying.
"There's more? Oh you poor thing!" she said sympathetically.
"It's about my family."
"Oh, I meant to ask about that. You're thirty-one aren't you John? Are you married? Any children?" she asked while preparing her pen and paper to make notes.
"Yeah. I have a little girl, Rosie. She's three years old."
"Okay...her mother?"
"My girlfriend...her name was Jade," he said, choking slightly on her name.
"Are you married?"
YOU ARE READING
Black Cloaks
Short Story'In a room with no windows or doors the girl sat, leaning against the wall. She had been there so long that the sound of dripping water, or maybe blood, became all she knew...' Jade was taken captive on her 16th birthday by what the kidnapped all ca...
