Psychotic Maniac

Chapter 15

“Estella,” Mrs. Jones tested the name on her lips, curiosity, and amusement dripping heavy.  “Of all things, I wasn't expecting a woman would be a reason for you to come here out of our schedule.”

“That makes two of us,” commented Edward. He looked rumpled and exhausted under his thick crown of hair and long lashes. "I've never been with a woman this long. Work or not."

“Who’s she?”

“A woman who has my attention, right here,” he rubbed the side of his temple, his throbbing vein pulsing dangerously beneath his fingers. "Now she's getting under my skin."

"Are you seeking a relationship with her?" She prompted, and then corrected. "I mean is there a chance you'd like to indulge in a normal healthy relationship with her."

"It won't be healthy in my case."

“Then you might wanna keep a distance away from her.” she said. "Working on your personal growth is what you need."

“I can’t,”

“A woman would want a man with purest intentions”

“It's more than that, actually.” He simply answered. He owed her the job he cost her. Only a few people knew about it—him, Asher, and a guy on his payroll who worked at the Distill Corp, the same place Estella worked for two years, then fired on false pretense. He had sabotaged it, indirectly.

“Care to explain.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You know that's not how it works, ” she pressed on, pushing the notebook further up her thighs, pen between her fingers as she jotted down the details. “I’ve been helping you for years now. For everyone else, you may hide your reality, but I know, we both know where your imagination goes.”

“Indeed.” he gave her an appreciative look as if she was talking about the weather. 

“Tell me honestly, Edward. Do you want to hurt her as well?”

Mrs. Jones asked without any signs of reluctance. She always saw right through him. 

“After tonight,” he said, “maybe.”

“Even though it's wrong, morally, ethically, legally.”

“It’s not like I wanted to but she can’t have any control over me.”

“Is that's what you are struggling with?" She asked.

"I don't know. Just life," he exasparated.

"No, what are you exactly worried about now? What feels overwhelming? What was going on your mind when you decided to come here or when you go home?"

He remained silent, impassive, his mind drifting. Seeing his utter reluctance Mrs Jones continued for a few minute on how he need to express himself before she finally repeated the questions from last session.

“You are taking your pills regularly, aren't you?" She continued when he nodded in yes. "And what did I teach you to do whenever you have an anxiety attack?”

Using an anxiety attack in place of the appropriate word was only a gesture of politeness. Edward thumped his palm against the arm of the couch he was sitting on, recalling her words. “Hold your breath, count to ten. After then, breathe slowly, and focus on the good old days.” He felt like a child.

“Did you do that when you were with her?” 

“That night, " he visioned the alley bar on Montclair. “No. Tonight. Yes!” 

“Take off your jacket?” 

Edward glanced up, a nervousness chilling his veins. “I haven’t done it since the last time.”