The Panic Pure

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Danny woke up every morning to an alarm that sounded like birds singing. His therapist had said the sound would be soothing; mostly he found it annoying. He just didn't want to cause a fuss and throw it away.

He figured he would wait until it was so annoying that he couldn't handle it any longer. Then he'd fling it with much delight into the trash can.

After lying in bed for five minutes, gathering himself together, he padded into the bathroom where he carefully shaved, swallowed his meds, then urinated.

He spread toothpaste on his toothbrush and climbed into the shower to clean his teeth, wash his hair, and scrub his body under the hottest water he could stand with antibacterial soap. By the time he stepped out, his skin was flushed pink and he could be fairly assured that he was germ free.

Thoroughly drying himself with a fluffy white towel, he headed naked into his bedroom and straight into his walk-in closet and the dresser drawer marked with the appropriate day of the week. There he dressed in white briefs, a white tee shirt, black pants, black socks, a white dress shirt, and a tie.

Then he went to one of the racks to choose a black suit jacket that he carefully removed from its plastic cover. Just pulling on his jacket, he felt as though he was anchoring himself to reality. And when he sat down to put on the black dress shoes he had removed from the shoe rack marked for that day, he felt as though he could face the world without losing himself completely.

From Monday through Friday he allowed himself to be chauffeured to work where he hurried through the building to his office, which is where his secretary would bring him his breakfast and later his lunch. He would leave the office at quarter to five to return to his house where he would tinker with his Legos until seven when his dinner would be served.

On Saturday and Sunday he would go to the library in his house and read until mid-afternoon, pausing only long enough to eat the breakfast and lunch his maid would bring him. Then he would build villages, towns and cities with his Legos until dinner.

He went to bed at ten o'clock every night after taking his nightly sleeping pill.

He figured there were some people out there that would find the regimented routine of his life boring, but he found it soothing. There was rarely a time when he didn't know where he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to do.

Sometimes he worried that he was selfish about the way he lived. Everyone around him had to adjust their schedules to fit his issues. Even his therapist had to come to his office every Thursday for their sessions, and even though he paid for three appointments--one before and one after his own--he still felt guilty about how difficult he was being.

He simply could not help himself.

He had finished his morning routine and was heading down the stairs when the doorbell rang, surprising him.

No one ever visited him in his home. Those that knew him understood that the only people he allowed in his house regularly were the three maids, his cook, and Arthur.

Danny paused on the stair landing while Beatrice hurried toward the door. He gripped the rail with white-knuckled fingers.

"I have it, sir," she called, her heels clacking on the floor like little hammers.

He stood frozen where he was, unable to go any further. It felt as though someone was holding his body in place, keeping him from either going down or going back up the stairs.

Beatrice opened the left side of the double doors. "Can I help you?" she asked. There was the soft murmur of voices, but it was too far away for him to make out what was being said. "Oh! Oh dear, let me see if Mr. Worth will speak with you."