Captive (Sequel to Infatuation)

Chapter 23

(guys, omg, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in turdy seven years. it was my birthday—may 30th—and then it was my mom's birthday and it's summer so my cousin's have been over and gosh, I've been a busy lady. hope this update makes up for it, though <3)

SONG(s) FOR CHAPTER: 

♬ Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis ♬

♬ Strangely Beautiful by Shealeigh ♬

CHAPTER 23

❀ GRACE WALKER ❀

THE WHITE CORRIDOR was practically blinding as Jacob and I sauntered down it once more. I tossed the deck of cards back and forth between my hands, humming to myself as Jacob shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet, nearly tripping himself in the process.

"He's been here for a few days, and this place still makes me queasy," he muttered, scrunching his nose in distaste.

"I think it's just the concept of the place's purpose, you know? The hospital still puts me on edge and I've been an intern for a couple of months now."

He shrugged. "I guess. I just... never expected Harry, of all people, to end up at a place like this. I wish he would've talked to me when he was starting to get bad..."

I nodded because there were no words to reply with. You can't force a person to open their mind to you, just as you can't force a person to trust you. I had no doubts that Harry trusted Jacob just as much as I, but it's more difficult for some than others. No one ever fully trusts someone else, even when they try to argue otherwise.

The elder therapist was just stepping out of Harry's room when we approached. He smiled at us, and I expected him to continue on his way, but instead he held up his palm to halt us.

"Is everything okay?" I instantly asked, worry coursing through me.

"Everything is fine, I assure you," he said gently. "I was just curious about a few things. Harry is a UFC fighter, yes?"

Jacob and I both nodded.

The therapist—Max, I believe—pursed his lips. "Now, I know the episodes have just recently gotten worse again, but I have a theory."

"Are we allowed to know this theory?" Jacob inquired, a bit annoyed with the man's hesitance. I set a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him a bit.

Max chuckled. "I suppose so. He seems to care about you both quite a lot." He tucked his clipboard under his arm and inched a bit closer. "From what he's told me, violence really triggers the memories, which is an obvious trigger. But I think his fighting might be worsening it."

I frowned a little. "So... he should quit?"

Max scratched his chin. "If he can learn to differentiate the memories from present. If he can control that, I think it'd be fine for him to continue. Also if he took his prescriptions, which he doesn't seem very fond of."

Jacob looked almost frightened. "He loves the conference, though. He's got a fan base and everything, I mean... I don't think he'd throw that away."

Max smiled a little more and nodded once. "I understand, and I certainly can't force him to quit. But perhaps you should speak to him about it. Get him taking his medication, keeping him in control of his thoughts—that sort of thing."

"Easier said than done," I breathed, running a hand through my hair.

"Precisely," he agreed. "However, I thought my input might be of use."