The Butterfly Chronicles

Prologue

Blake played with his fingers as he waited outside Mark's cabin. This was the fourth time he was been called for not being productive at work. Fear gripped him as he played with his fingers in a haphazard way, something that he picked up when he was four. He knew something bad was going to happen. He had a gut feeling about it, but he was positive. He stopped fidgeting with his fingers as he heard footsteps coming towards him. He whispered a silent prayer under his breath as he saw Mark. 

'Come on in, Blake.' Mark signalled.

Blake stooped his head down as he walked behind Mark, fear written clearly and boldly in his face. 

'You know, Blake. I treat my employees like my family. I give them numerous chances before taking any kind of actions against them.'

Blake swallowed a lump inside his throat as he lifted his head up to meet Mark in his eyes- 'I understand, sir.' 

'So I called you in my cabin because  I want you to see a doctor, a psychiatrist to be more precise. Look Blake, don't get me wrong. I'm not indicating that you're looney. It could be the stress of work getting hold of you, visit her, tell her your problems. Take a month leave, until you're sure you can rejoin work.'

Blake gazed at the card Mark slid in front of him, Sophia Quinn- MD psychology it read. Blake knew everyone at work hated him. Everyone thought he was crazy. 

'Thank you.' Blake got up from his seat as he walked towards his cabin. Eyes staring at him keenly as if he'd just been convicted of a felony. 

'Ya'll want to kill me, I know. Ya'll want to take away everything I have, but I won't let that happen, No.' 

Blake kept fidgeting with his fingers, while he gazed at the card. He picked up his cellphone and dialled the number. 

'Mrs. Quinn's chamber, How may I help you?' A mechanical voice answered his call. 

'My name is Blake Ren, I would like to meet her.'

'May I know when you'd like to meet her?'

'I want to meet her, now.'

'Okay sir, Mrs. Quinn will be available for you at 1300 hours. Have a good day.' 

Blake stared at his computer screen as he thought about the things he would say to the psychiatrist. He looked at his watch, the time showed 1200 hours. He resorted back to staring at the computer screen, fidgeting with his fingers again.