Chained
There’s something about the subtly of it. Everything from the blue wall to the white lounging chair she lay upon. There’s music in the background, gentleness against the recesses of her mind, soft and soothing, aching fading away.
Yes, she felt tired; so unmistakably tired when she came to this room. Maybe, she thinks, it’s not the room itself. Maybe she’s been tired all along, more tired than she thinks. In and out come the steady cadence of her breaths. In and out, inhale exhale -- she hears the sound of movement, and eyes flutter open gently. Right, she wasn’t alone here.
“Alright, Miss Tou. Now that you’ve calmed yourself, shall we continue?”
A slow nod, though she doesn’t turn to look at the soft feminine voice. She found it uncomfortable to gaze into her eyes during their meetings. Eyes far too intelligent, far too perceptive--it unnerved her how well she seemed to dissect every little thing that was said. But then again, wasn’t that her job? Miya thinks she catches a smile in the corner of her eye. “You describe these ‘emotional highs’ as being ... disturbing and unbearable. How do you feel after that? After you’ve reached your limit?”
“Numb.” A short and quick reply, monotone -- she thinks it’s self explanatory, but the silence hanging in the air conveys otherwise. “... It’s like the onset of a sudden frost in summer. There’s an army of emotions crashing against me, and then suddenly it’s all gone.”
“All of it? No anger or sadness?” She thinks she hears the sound of pen against paper, but she simply closes her eyes to try and drown out the sound. “Nothing at all ... but I prefer the anger.” Silence. Something she’s used to receiving when she’s said something that requires deeper thought. There are gears moving in this doctor’s head, she’s sure. She only need await the next question.
“You described this shift in emotions as ... numb. Why do you then prefer the anger?”
This time the answer does not come as quickly. She breathes in and then out, focuses on that steady cadence to keep her grounded. “The anger is ... easier. More explainable and normal. It’s not as dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“Dangerous ...” She didn’t know how else to describe it. Again there’s the sound of furious pen against paper, like she’s just discovered a breakthrough. Though to the surprise of them both, she continues unprompted. “The anger, the emotions ... they keep me grounded and in check. I have more control over myself, then.”
Silence, the writing’s stopped again. “And ... when you lose control, how does that make you feel?”
“Afraid.” Another easy question, though there’s confusion now. “I thought you felt numb?” Another deep exhale, almost a sigh. How long were these questions going to continue? “The fear comes right before ... and after it’s over.”
She hears the tapping of the pen again, though this time it feels more puzzled than anything. Gears move once more, but she supposed there’s not enough to reach a conclusion when she hears, “one more question. I promise this is the last.” A groan, and then a nod. If it meant they were almost finished, then she could answer one more question.
“... What makes you afraid?”
Eyes blink, the sound of the music in the background seems to skip for just a moment. The fear, the anguish in the aftermath; blood dripping from her hands. Still bodies on the ground, the flashing of fear in their eyes just moments prior. Her breath hitches in her throat, the onset of panic once more.
The music returns, and suddenly she’s back in the same room again--the same blue wall, the same calm music. “Miss Tou?” Another blink, though this time she’s able to answer. “Because there’s something inside of me. I don’t know when or how it got there ... but it’s a part of me.” A pause. “And when it comes out, I don’t know what I’ll end up doing.”
