Kill Your Darlings

Before: Retention 1

While the town is asleep, you are awake.

Both hands of the clock are facing upwards to heaven. You sit silent for a moment, listening to the rain upon the rooftop. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.  Smiling at the reiteration, you admire nature’s rather bland art form. The ledge behind you is already wet, but the window remains open.

There is a heavy scent of desolation in the room, a distinct smell that only those in your profession can sense. It comes in many forms; through the stories from your patients, the spit that flies from their mouths when they yell, and most of all, their tears.

Your nose can almost pinpoint the smell of the salty water in the air, which is being overpowered by the fresh rain coming from the window. A drop hits the back of your neck, yet you continue working through patient files.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter—

Knock-knock.

Your eyes shift from the papers on your desk, the speed of your heartbeat growing at the disruption. While the town is asleep, you’re awake.

But you should know that you’re not the only one.

Knock-knock-knock.

Three more. Recognition finally assails your brain, making you rise from behind the desk. There is a piercing tingle at the soles of your feet, but you already have your eyes set on that door. You swing it open with more excitement than you meant to show, causing self-consciousness of the look of your face in front of the young boy.

“Hey,” Spencer says. It’s raining heavier now and his sweater is soaked. It has a hood, but he doesn’t bother pulling it up. “Can I come in?”

He knows he can, so he doesn’t wait for your response. His sneakers make a squeaking sound against the hardwood floors.

Spencer takes your place at the armchair, where you spent years listening to other people’s problems. The teen puts his wet shoes on the coffee table and whistles as he plays with the zipper on his sweater. You take his place at the loveseat, fingers crossed over your stomach as you watch him. He’s such an interesting boy; a mystery to you since he won’t let you in his mind. Maybe that’s why you keep allowing him in your office. He is still a stranger, after all. Your little secret patient.

Spencer sees your eyes, and smiles.

“It’s raining bitches out there,” he says.

“I think the correct term is cats and dogs.”

“Who the fuck says cats and dogs?” Spencer asks, shaking water out of his black hair. The droplets make a mess around him. “Bitches sounds better. Edgy. You need to get on my level.”

“What are you doing out in the rain at midnight?”

Spencer rolls his eyes. They’re hazel, but they’ve got more than a million specks of green in them; the most green you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“You might as well ask why I’m always here at midnight, doc. Does it matter if it’s raining or not? Jeez.”

“Fine. Why don’t you have an umbrella, then? Or at least a coat. You’ll get sick if you keep going around this way.”

“Umbrellas are for losers, doc. Why are you here so late, anyway? It’s a Friday night; you should be out fucking—”

“Language, Spencer.”

“Fucking somebody.” He watches you carefully as he says it, a sly smile creeping on his lips. He laughs when the room remains silent; twisting his head left to right to some beat that cannot be heard. His hair seems to move in its own private song.

“Did you go to school?” you ask.

“Nah, I skipped out,” he says, adjusting himself in the seat. It must be soaking by now. “I was at the strip mall around here with some chick twice my age. Man, we nearly fu—”

“Spencer.”

“—banged behind some store. Imagine that. Banging in public. I can introduce you to her if you want. She may rub off on you and help you stop being such a straightedge.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.”

Spencer rolls his eyes again and gets up, heading over to your desk. You run ahead of him, trying to get rid of the files before he reads them. But Spencer doesn’t seem to notice. He’s looking at a framed picture.

“You said this was your family?”

“Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“There was a matter lying and cheating, so I ended it.” You slip the files in your briefcase to ignore his eyes.

“Damn. It’s a nice looking family, though. Small, but nice. The kid’s cute too; you guys should’ve had more. Where are they now, anyway?”

An unwanted memory flashes in your mind, but you get rid of it before it sticks. You have enough courage to look at Spencer now. The picture is back in its rightful spot, but his eyes are on you.

“Not sure. I’m going to go home now. Are you coming?” It’s hard to understand why you asked, but it’s too late to take it back. You’ve never met him outside of the office, anyway. He never seems to be around.

“Of course I’m not coming. Why the hell would you ask that for?”

You pick up your coat from behind your chair, coming around your desk to get the umbrella until you remember what Spencer said. Straightening, you decide to leave it there until he leaves.

“Then where will you go? Where are your parents?”

He’s getting tense again. He walks stiffly towards the door and turns the handle as quick as he can. He usually leaves once you start questioning him. “I’m just going to walk around, alright? The smell of your office is bothering me.”

“Wait.”

He does.

“Who are you, Spencer? Really.”

There is a pause in the room. Your heartbeat is growing erratic again. It takes a moment for Spencer to meet your eyes once more, shooting his trademark smile.

“To be honest, doc, I’m everything you’re not.”