Scared

Chapter 2

The second day of work, Paul didn't know what to expect when he entered John's room.

He had brought with him his guitar and also his camera, hoping to make John more involved in the therapy session. He hoped to get some paintbrushes, paint and canvas in the art room.

He knew that some of John's hobbies, when not in a deep catatonic state, were painting, listening to music and taking pictures, so he hoped to strengthen their bond using those things.

He could only hope.
Behind those light brown eyes, that looked so dull and sad all the time, Paul knew there was a very smart young man.

He also knew that John wasn't stupid or any mentally delayed like most people thought he was.

The only people aside for Paul who didn't treat John like a stupid little kid were Brian and Mimi.

When he finally entered the room, it looked like a tornado had passed through it.

John was standing in the middle, throwing things around. The most scary thing, though, was the loud screams coming from the boy.

Paul gulped. He looked so upset.

"John...John, what's wrong?"

He kept on shouting, hands gripping his hair tightly and tugging, his whole body trembling.

Paul's body acted on automatic, remembering what his teacher had taught him, while also Brian's words resounded through his brain.

'If he acts violently, grab him and hold him until he calms down. No restraints such as tying him to the bed, it will only make him more aggressive and scared'

He quickly acted to calm his patient down, not wanting him to hurt himself any further.

He grabbed him, holding his body against him. McCartney had to keep himself from doubling over a few times as some hard kicks hit him and fingers scratched his skin.

Gradually, John's struggles quieted down, his screams turning into whimpers.

"Shhh, John, you're all right. Breath with me, John love, in and out. In and then out" they went through some more breathing exercises until he was breathing normally again.

Paul was right regarding his hair, it was really soft. He was lost into looking at the soft auburn locks, until John's eyes looked up at him.

They held gazes and Paul's heart was bursting in happiness at that. It meant that John was starting to thrust him.

Slowly, they untangled themselves from their hug and Paul decided to introduce him to some of the activities he had decided to make him do.

First, he laid over the table in the bedroom a large newspaper and some blank sheets of paper. Along with it, there were several tubs of paint and brushes.

John's eyes widened and he quietly walked towards the items, looking at Paul with hopeful eyes.

"Yes, John, I want you to sit down and paint" said the therapist with a smile.

John gave him a shy small smile as he sat cross legged on the floor.

Paul quietly sat next to him, staring at him, calculating his next move.

John picked a paintbrush, before shaking his head and posing it down. He grabbed the paint tubes and squeezed them into the palette, gradually adding more colours.

He then sank his index and middle fingers into the paint and started dragging it across the sheet, making long lines appear.

It was fascinating, seeing John's concentrated look as he kept fingerpaint.