To Perceive an Image

Fifty: Images of My Misbelief

Maryanland, October 25, 2040, 9:00 AM.

When is an appropriate time to go back into your regular day-to-day schedule as if nothing happened?

Avoiding the world by asking for leave isn't the hard part; having to deal with the mind-eating disease that is overthinking is. After a lengthy and somewhat emotional call with my supervisor at the clinic, she cleared me for twelve days' leave. She gave in as soon as I mentioned my compromising condition. Many bosses aren't as lean about an employee asking for leave, but I'm glad mine is. This may give some of my fans at the clinic a little breather. I will not name those who have not breathed in a comfortable breath ever since what I did to their spawn. Who am I to feel bad? I earned weeks full of stressless workdays.

Then life threw me off course to inform me I bit off more than I could chew, and here I am.

Self-deprecating, full of shame, threatened, and sad. That should be descriptive enough for today.

Alas, not doing anything on a hospital bed proved somewhat boring. Screw my delicate lungs- I'm going back to work. Helping those I know I can help will at least help me redeem my failed attempts for others.

A gust of wind resembling icicles flew past me as I walk to work, causing me to shiver. Winter will be brutal this year. That groundhog predicted it right. Six additional weeks of a brutal winter are indeed upon us. Either way, my coats sit comfortably in Sapphie's aunt's apartment, ready for use. It's my pants not providing the same warmth for my legs. I would wear a pair of leggings underneath my pants if they didn't raise the temperatures as hot as the sun inside the clinic.

Whatever, at least the cold makes me feel something.

Other than Noir, at least I enjoy the cold, but I don't appreciate the devil's advocate.

Speaking of him, he has been quiet, and I hate that. People that I cannot predict terrify me.

Clear him out of your mind, and focus on your approaching work for now.

Smiling at the security guard who reminded me of Flynn, I make my way toward doctor Mohammad's office. I missed that man and his complaints about the other doctors.

I bite my fear and enter the elevator to give my legs a break. Thoughts of doctor Mohammad distracted me from what, or I should say, who was standing in front of me. A smile donned my face as I entered, but diminished the second I saw the person occupying the elevator.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Noir with complete confusion.

The young man smiled, "I've heard this clinic has some of the best local therapists and wanted to pay a brief visit. You know, as someone who needs it. I'm sure you won't turn away patients, right, Aza?"

An uncontrollable scoff left my mouth, "other therapists might, but doctor Mohammad will without question. He has the amazing ability to detect evildoers, and he'll sense you coming from a mile away." My words made the smile on his face grow as if he felt proud of himself. He's right- he does need therapy.

"Is this another one of your tactics to get me thrown out of here?"

My phone rang before I could reply with a vicious retort. Taking my phone out of my purse, I see doctor Mohammad's name brighten the screen. I accept the call and put it on speaker, predicting the next course of events.

"Marhaba Azail, are you doing alright?" His sweet voice rang through the elevator, which turned immobile because my assailant pressed the stop button when the doors closed.

"Hello to you too, doctor, and yes I am. It's not like you to communicate with me via phone call, what's up?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you, but I had a weird hunch about an odd presence in the building."