4 years later
Jasmine
"So? How did that make you feel?"
God, I hated asking that question almost as much as I hated answering it but it was part of the criteria.
See, that's the thing that always annoyed me about psychologists. Those stupid questions that they ask even when the answer seems obvious and is staring at them right in the face. How am I feeling? Well, I don't know Susan, because I don't know how to DEAL with what I'm feeling!
Urgh, shrinks!
Makes perfect sense that I would become the thing I hate, right?
My client sits in front of me, fidgeting with the toy car in his hand as my questions seems to go right over his head.
"Max? Did you hear me?" The 7 year old remained silent as I pushed for a response.
Okay, I don't hate my job. In fact, I quite enjoy what I'm doing or else I wouldn't have spent four years of my life acquiring the degree. I've always had a soft spot for kids. I didn't grow up in the most ideal circumstances for a child and when I got older, it always pained me to see other children going through anything that a child shouldn't go through. Be it abuse, neglect, bullying, you name it.
And so here I am, all these years later, sitting on a fluffy rug with a pen and note pad in hand hoping that my four years of psychology training will pay off in this situation. Usually I would be working under the supervision of Dr Jensen, since I'm not yet qualified to practice independently, but she had called in sick this morning and, with the chirpiest tone I'd ever heard, entrusted me to handle her clients for the day. I was grateful for the opportunity but also terrified of the possibility of screwing up.
"C'mon, Max. Remember what I told you the last time?"
He looks up at me from under his long lashes. God damnit, that is so unfair for a child to have. His brows cinched together in thought. He gives me a little nod, his voice remaining stuck in his trachea.
"And what did I say?" I prompt him.
"You said that if I talk more you'll give me a present." His small voice barely resonated through the room.
"That's right. And have you been talking more?" He shakes his head from side to side. "So how are you going to get the present?" I lean forward in my chair.
The timer on my cellphone blares loudly through the room, signaling the end of our session just when I might have been making headway with Max. The kid spent the majority of the 1 hour I had with him playing with the toys I had laid out instead of actually talking to me. Well, that was kind of progress from the other time when he refused to even move an inch from the couch.
I don't blame the kid though. Sitting in a confined space with two strangers asking invasive questions and trying to get inside your head was not the best thing in the world.
Max leaped off the couch and I walked him to the door. His parents waited outside patiently.
"There wasn't much progress. He spoke a little more today so that was good. These things are hard for children. They don't open up about bulling that easily so I'd say give it a couple more sessions."
"Same time next week?" Max's mother asked.
"Sure."
"Thank you," his father smiled before the couple walked off with their son.
I could only imagine what was going through that little boys mind right now. He was probably hoping to never come back to this office again, that I was certain about.
Max was my last client of the day and I caught myself smiling as a sense of pride washed over me for handling them all solo without any hiccups. Glancing at the time on my phone, I gathered my coat and purse and locked up the office.
It was Monday afternoon and New York traffic was bumper to bumper in the streets. It was times like these that I was grateful to have found a job that was within a 10 minute walking distance from my apartment. I pulled on my coat, the nippy spring air biting at my skin through my thin lace blouse.
My clients had kept me preoccupied for most of the day, taking my mind off the inevitable events of tonight that had me on edge from the moment I woke up this morning. This walk helped too, getting my blood pumping and keeping my mind focused on the slight pang in my feet courtesy of my heels.
It was exactly 9 minutes and 23 seconds since I left the office when I rounded the bend to the coffee shop just below my apartment. The little bell that hung above the door jingled when I walked in. I always thought it was a nice, almost vintage touch to the place. I walked over to the counter, pulled out my designated bar stool and took a seat.
"There's my favorite customer." Sam, my favorite barista and owner of this amazing caffeine factory, chirped when he saw me.
I've been coming to this shop for years and Sam and I had gotten pretty close. Not close in the intimate sense but close enough to the point where we could pretty much tell each other anything. He wasn't much older than me, 25 if I remember correctly, and that made it all that much easier to get along with him.
"Samuel, how are you?" I questioned with a smirk, awaiting the scowl that would grace his features in 3...2...
"Urgh, c'mon Jazz. My father calls me that."
"I'm just messing with you, bud." I shrug out of my coat, feeling a wave of heat spread through my body. God, I hate this time of month. And not just because it so happens to be a Monday, also my most dreaded time of the month.
"The usual?" Sam asked.
"Not yet. I'm waiting on Court." I tell him and he shimmies off to tend to another customer before returning a minute later and sliding a blue berry muffin in front of me.
"On the house," he smiles and I scrunch up my nose as a smile crosses my lips.
As I take the first bite from the muffin, my stomach grumbles.
God damn, did I forget to eat today?
Shit, I totally did!
I hear the bell jingle behind me and within a second, Courtney's loud voice is booming through the place.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I know, I shouldve texted but those god damn assholes wouldnt let me out of the damn meeting that went on for 4 damn hours! Like what the fuck? Who even has meetings that long? I thought they were about to start discussing world peace or some shit with the way-"
"Hello to you too," Sam interrupts her ramble and I smile. He saved me the trouble of doing that myself.
"Hey, baby." She shoots Sam a wink. No, they aren't together. Courtney just has a... way with words. It used to fluster poor Sam before but now he doesnt even blink. "Jazz, I'm sorry I'm late."
"I got that, Court. It's okay," I tell her and laugh it off. "What on earth did a bunch of elementary school teachers need to discuss for 4 hours?"
"Dont even get me started. Those fuckers spent more time talking about what food we're going to order on Friday since the kids finish early rather than actual academic shit. I cant deal with them no more. I need to find another school."
"I can help with that," Sam says as he slides our usual order over to us. A sweet tea for Courtney and a Mocha for me.
"You can?" I ask him, eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"Yeah. My mum works for the department of education. I dont exactly know what she does but she could definitely find you a new post."
"Are you serious?" Courtney dramatically reaches out and grabs onto the sleeve of Sam's Burberry shirt. The poor guy simply nods. "Aahhh, see I knew I liked you for a reason."
Sam brings over two plates of freshly made croissants, stuffed with scrambled eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, bell peppers and cheese while Court and I catch up on our day. When she's done complaining about the staff at school, I tell her about the kids that I had seen today and how most of them were like a stone wall. Sam pulls up a chair behind the counter and joins us in conversation when the place starts to get quiet and everyone begins to slowly clear out.
"Uhm, Jazz?" Sam garner's my attention. "Dont look behind you but the guy at the corner table has totally been giving you the fuck boy eyes ever since he walked in." He informed me.
And what does every person who's ever been told to not look behind themselves do? They look behind themselves!
It was only a quick glance really.
And from what I gathered, the guy that Sam was referring to had dark brown, almost black hair. His biceps bulged out from the short sleeve of his black tshirt. He sipped on a cup of what I assumed was black coffee while he scrolled through his phone.
"Are you sure you saw right?" Courtney asked him.
"Yeah. Positive. Want me to go over there and tell him to back off?" Sam offered, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt dramatically.
I loved Sam, I truly did but there was no way I believed he'd be able to take on a guy that looked like THAT. Purely muscle.
"No, it's fine. He's not bothering anyone." And I for one do not want to be picking petty fights today of all days. I've barely been keeping it together so far as it is.
As I say that, the guy stands up from his seat, the sound of the chair scrapping against the hardwood catches my attention. He tossed a bill on the table next to his coffee cup before exiting the shop without a single glance in our direction.
Did Sam even see right? That guy seemed more like he'd much rather avoid people all together than stare at us....or me, as Sam put it.
"Oh Jazz, are you coming over tonight? My parents are coming over for dinner and mum said she hasn't seen you in forever. I dont think that's true because I swear you were over last week when she stopped by with the casserole." Courtney asked and I felt my stomach twist at her question.
"Uhm, Court I cant. Remember? Tonight's a-"
"Oh Shit, Jazz! I completely forgot babe. It's fine, I'll tell her you'll come over some other time." She nodded in understanding. Well, understanding the lie that I had been spinning for the past 4 years.
"You need some company tonight?" Sam offered. He probably thinks I'm going to make microwave popcorn and watch a movie.
God, I hated lying to them. They were arguably my best friends and probably the only people in my life that actually gave a damn about me. But I cant tell them the truth either because one of two things would happen without a doubt. One- they think I'm crazy and admit me in the psych ward. Two- they defriend me because they think I'm crazy. So either way, I come out looking like Bogus the Clown and I loose my friends.
"I'm good, Sam." I smile gratefully.
"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
Sam lives on the floor above me, convenient for when we both can't sleep and would rather stay up all night playing Uno. Not so convenient when he could literally show up to my door in the middle of everything that may or may not happen tonight.
When the sun begins to set, Sam takes that as his cue to start locking up the shop. The remaining customers clear out and I say my goodbyes to Courtney before taking the elevator up to my apartment with Sam.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him when the car dings to a stop on my floor.
"Call me if you need anything. Or yell, I'm sure I'd hear you," he says with a smile just as the door begins to close again and the car moves up.
I enter my apartment feeling a little light headed, the pounding headache only minutes away. I toss my purse and coat haphazardly on the couch, making a mental note to put that away neatly later on. I head to the bathroom that's attached to my bedroom almost immediately. I raid the cabinets above the mirror near the sink and pull out the bottle of pain killers that I always have on hand. I chug down 6 pills. That's three times the normal dosage but in the years past, I realised that 2 never did anything for me.
I change into lighter clothes next. I put on sleep shorts and a sports bra. Next I go around making sure all the windows and doors are locked. Lastly, I grab my headphones and phone before I lay back on top of my bed. It's almost 8pm now and I can already feel the pain radiating through my body. From my arms and legs to my back and even my mouth. It's a good thing I ate at the shop because there was no way i was going to be able to fix me up a meal before all of this.
I cover my ears with the headphones before scrolling through my phone, more specifically the rock playlist that I'd made a few months ago. I click on the first song that catches my eye and I let the music blast through the headphones. It's so loud that a normal person may bust an eardrum if they listened to it at this volume.
This whole process has become my routine for the past 3 years. The first year I spent trying other means of distraction like kick boxing and gym but all that did for me was fill me with rage. And rage was definitely NOT something I wanted to be feeling in that moment. It just made everything worse. So, eventually, after much research and YouTube videos on how to calm your mind and all other bullshit related to it, this was the only solution I could come up with that actually worked for me.
It was safer than being out there I'll tell you that. It was safer for everyone out there.
I let my mind focus on the sound of the music. The loud vibrations of the electric guitar. The pounding of bass. The raspy vocals of the e- boy screaming out his darkest desires. I felt immense heat course through my body and I knew it was reaching its peak. I clenched my fists at my sides. My nails dug into the skin of my palms but I could care less.
Just breathe, Jazz.
You got this!
I talked myself through it, like a mantra being whispered for serenity. When I felt the pain and the heat simmer down I knew it was working. I lost track of how long I remained like that, frozen in place trying to drown out the rest of the world.
I heard a shuffle break through the noise blaring through the headphones and I shot up in bed. The thing about heightened senses is that the slightest sound, no matter how faint, can be picked up even in the noisiest of places. I removed my headphones, placing it down gently on the bed before I shuffled towards my bedroom door.
I could've sworn I locked the door.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I made my way into the open plan living area. Something wasnt right.
I swear to god if this was a burglar, he picked the wrong day to mess with me. From what I could see, even in the darkness of the room, there was no one. I even made it as far as opening my front door and checking down the hall. Nothing.
"Its a nice place you have here."
A voice had me whipping around and clutching at my chest as I heard and felt my heart beat pick up dramatically. He sat in the corner of my lounge, only the silhouette of his features visible. I clenched my fists at my sides tighter.
"Who are you?" I questioned, desperately trying to keep my voice steady.
The figure said nothing as he rose from his seat. I shuffled towards the light switch, flipping it on. He flinched when the brightness flooded his eyes but he recovered quickly. He looked familiar. His dark brown hair was pushed back away from his forehead as if he was playing with it. His icy blue eyes sparkled under the florescent light and his pale skin seemed almost glowing. He wore all black. A plain black tee. Black skinny jeans. Black combat boots. When he started walking closer to me I caught a glimpse of ink on his triceps but I couldn't quite make out what it was.
Why the hell did he look so familiar?
He took a detour to the kitchen, looking through my drawers as if he was a welcomed guest.
"What do you want?" I tried again. Maybe he's deaf. Or mute. Or both.
"A glass of water. Want one?" He held up the glass in his hand. Okay, so not deaf and not mute.
So what the fuck?
The pain that had just began to subside started up again and I was terrified of what might happen next if this guy didnt leave.
Oh God. What if he's an axe murderer? Or a rapist?
My mind overworking could not have been good for my current predicament as my vision started to blur.
"Listen, you've got 30 seconds to get your rigidity ass out of here or I'm going to call 911." I tell him, putting on the most serious tone I could muster.
"No you're not," he scoffed. He actually fucking scoffed?
"Excuse me?"
"You're not going to call the cops." He stated nonchalantly. It wasn't even a threat or a challenge. He sounded like he genuinely believed that I wouldnt do it.
To be fair, I'm actually not going to call the cops. Who knows how that might end. But I wasnt about to let him know that.
"And what makes you so sure about that?" I challenged.
He chuckled under his breath, a smile gracing his features.
Woah. He's actually cute. Like hot kind of cute. Okay, so he's just hot.
Jesus, focus Jasmine!
This man could actually be a serial killer.
A flash of memory from this evening came rushing back to me. The image of the mysterious guy dressed fully in black sitting in the corner of the coffee shop.
Oh God! Its him.
Again, he failed to answer me. Instead, he took a few strides closer to me. Within seconds we were inches apart and I could see a lot more of him in detail. Like, for example, the dark ink that peeked out from his v- neck line of his shirt. The way his eyebrows arched almost perfectly. The way his lips were just the right shade of pink. So soft. So close. So kissable.
Jasmine!
It's the heightened senses I swear.
"You feeling okay, Wolfie?" He asked, staring at me dead in the eye. That annoyingly adorable smile playing on his lips.
Also, what the hell did he just call me?
Oh God!
"W-what?" I stuttered, feeling slighlty intimidated by his height and his words. Why would he call me that?
"Heart's racing? Hands feel a little clammy?"
With each question, he took a step closer to me.
"Every sense heightened? Emotions running wild? Unimaginable pain coursing through your body? Hmm?"
My back hit the wall adjacent to the door and he caged me in, towering over me at atleast 6'1".
"What do you feel right now? Anger? Fear? Lust? All of the above?"
I'll tell you what I feel. I feel my throat closing up on me at this very instance. I clenched my fists harder and when I noticed my vision start to change, I shut my eyes.
What is he doing to me?
Tonight was going better than most nights. Great even. Until this very moment.
I felt his unusually warm hands wrap around my wrists, slowly bringing them both up to the level of his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and smell the strong scent of his cologne. It tickled my nose.
God, I hope I dont sneeze.
I feel his fingers move over my clenched ones and then, he's prying them open forcefully. I try as hard as I might to keep them closed, fearing what the inside of my palms might look like but I'm no where near as strong as he was.
That had me questioning some things.
"Open your eyes, Wolfie."
Again with that name!
Oh God, he knows! How the hell does he know? No, he cant know! No one knows!
"Open. Your. Eyes." He speaks more slowly the second time around and against my will, my eyes open.
I see that same smile plastered on his face as he stares back at me, completely unphased by what I'm sure is hardly the most normal eye colour he's ever seen. He looks from my eyes, which I'm sure had turned a shade of bright yellow by now, to the crescent shaped marks left on my palm by my nails digging into it.
"Hm. Yeah, you're not calling the cops." He said smugly.
How is he so calm about all of this?
"Well you're not half as bad as I thought you'd be with the control. That's good." He said, letting go of my hands.
"Who are you?" My voice is almost a whisper.
"I'll see you around, Wolfie. Try not to rip anyone up by the end of the night, yeah?" His words knock the air right out of my lungs.
When he pulls away from me and walks towards the door, I'm finally able to make out the tattoos on his triceps. On the left, a dark crescent moon covered the majority of his triceps. On the right, the silhouette of a howling wolf was engraved into his skin.
When he left, my knees felt like jelly and I sank to the floor.
You've got this, Jazz!
Deep breaths!
In the past 4 years, I havent spoken a word of any of this to even my closest friends. All of that lying and secrecy to only have a complete stranger break into my apartment and call me out.
What?!
I'm so screwed.