Philophobia (Jonathan Crane, O/C)

Stepping Through Doors

"Don't need to understand. Too lost to lose. Don't fight my tears, 'Cause they feel so good."

- "Secret Door" by Evanescence

Unedited
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I sit cross legged in a pair of fitted black work slacks in the middle of the same cracked street in Ireland with the test subject. I decided to ask her name, finally getting tired of calling her, her. Alanna sighs, blowing the red haired fly away that keeps getting in her eyes, her knees meeting mine and staring right into my eyes.

"Keep going," I coax, nudging worn blue jeans knee to have her tell me more about her abusive father. Every time she does the scenes change to match the time, the date, we watch, like a movie as the ordeals unfold. Over and over again until I'm pulled back into the closest thing to reality here, time slips away from me as well, the hours meeting days stuck inside her head.

"I'm tired and it's night time, come on Cassandra," she says to me, playing with her loop cord necklace.

I have been pushing her, eight am to six pm every day for the past three. I've gotten somewhere, my notes on her are impressive, best I've ever written.

"Fine, but tomorrow," my voice starts to nag, standing slowly, my right knee clicking due to an old injury as Madame Raven.

"I know, downstairs ready to go by eight, you forget that I understand how this works." She stands, wiping away imaginary gravel on her jeans. "One of these days," she starts, walking beside me as we walk back to the inn, "You are going to tell me about yourself."

"You created me, don't you know my backstory?" I question her, pushing open the little gate, my black Keds crunching the grey gravel under my feet.

"You and I both know I don't believe that. I am a test subject that volunteered to go through this trial to get over my fear. Right now we are...." I put my hand over her mouth.

"Shut up," I whisper, the last thing I want is for the rest of the team on the outside to hear what we are saying. Which of course they can.

I motion to her to stay quiet, increasing our walking speed, pulling her inside the inn, uncovering her mouth and slamming the door shut, locking it for good measure as though someone could enter. I go around to the back of the reception desk, grabbing sheets of paper and a pen, writing quickly and shoving it in her face.

'They can hear us.'

Her eyes widen, taking the sheet of paper in her hands and moving to the flat surface writing her own reply.

'Why did you never mention that?'

I roll my eyes, 'You aren't supposed to know anything about us, this is the deepest into your unconscious we could go, we assumed you would never figure it out.'

'That's stupid.'

I roll my eyes yet again, meeting hers in a heated stare mouthing, 'no shit' before crumbling up the paper and throwing it into the trash bin besides the desk.

Lindsey shakes her head, grabbing the second sheet of paper, 'I still want to know about you'

I grab the pen out of her hand, 'I don't see the benefit'

She snatches it out of mine, 'I've known you for at least a week. Come on, clearly you're engaged," she points to the chain around my neck, a few times she's seen me pull it out, turning it over in my hands and thinking about Jonathan, only to comment on it now.