Sound The Bugle

5

Daniel Cooper

Taking deep breaths, I follow Nikki through the plainly decorated corridor to her office. She steps inside and I look up at the name tag on her door. Dr. Dawson.

I shut the heavy door behind me and take my place in the leather chair opposite Nikki. Nikki sits down in her chair and places her clasped hands on her desk.

"Mr Cooper. I'm glad you came today." She smiles sweetly at me, but it's not fake. It's not sickly and irritating. It's genuine and caring.

"It's Daniel." I mutter. This is really the last place I want to be. I don't want to be telling people about what happened to me. But like she said last time I was here. I drove myself here. No one forced me to come. Maybe I do want help, I just don't know how to ask for it. I'm scared to ask for it.

"Okay, Daniel. Now, where shall we start?" I look up at her, chewing on the inside of my mouth as I study her.

"I'm not telling you why I panicked, Dr Dawson." I confirm and she let's out a sigh. Then she starts to bite on her lip. Wow. I shake my head and clear my throat.

"How about you tell me a bit about yourself." It's not a question, it's a demand. My hands tense up as I lean back in the chair a little.

"Why?" I snap, a little angrily. She doesn't flinch, or appear shocked. It's almost like she didn't even register my temper.

"It helps me if I know a little about my patient." She informs me. I guess I understand that. "Do you have any hobbies?" Nikki asks me as she picks up a pen.

"No." I don't snap, but it's blunt. Once again, Nikki isn't phased. Most people are taken aback by my little grumps.

"Everyone has something that they like to do." She presses.

Suddenly, I see myself as a sixteen year old stood in my typically messy bedroom. I'm sat on my bed, hunched over a tatty sketch pad. It's been eight years since I drew. Eight.

"I liked to draw." I say after another deep breath, my hands are now clenched tightly and the vains are standing out on my arms.

"As in past tense? You don't anymore?" Nikki chews on the pen she is holding, her teeth are clicking against it quietly.

"I stopped when I came home from the Army." I blurt out and as soon as the words leave my mouth, the anger starts to build up inside me.

What made me tell her? What is it about her? I'm not angry, I'm frustrated. Nikki however, looks like she may have just found a pot of gold.

"Okay, so what are your likes?" That shocks me. I thought she'd dig for more information. She completely changed the subject. Which I'm actually very grateful for.

"Umm." I think as I scratch the nape of neck briefly then return my hands to arms of the chair. "The country side." I settle on and Nikki nods, smiling.

"Nothing beats the fresh air." She confirms and relaxes back in to her big chair. She looks small in it. There's no way that she's any taller than five foot five. "What about dislikes?" It's hard to keep up with her, she always changes the subject.

"Lateness, mess and small spaces." I answer immediately. We both notice that I don't need to think about things that I don't like. That makes me sound so miserable. I honestly don't mean to.

"Small spaces?" Nikki picks up on. That was a fear that came about as a hostage. The room had no fresh air. It was dark and damp. I became claustrophobic.

"I got trapped somewhere once for a long time." I answer, being as vague as I possibly can. I can't talk about being a hostage because if I panic, I might lash out and hurt her. I'd never forgive myself.