Soon {Zarry}

Eight Ghosts

"Good morning, Harry."

"Hmm, is it? Why choose a session at the God-awful hour of the morning? When I got the call that you needed me urgently, I didn't assume it was something as trivial as a nightmare."

"Ah, so the guards informed you then? Leave it to them to ruin the surprise."

"I haven't even had my coffee yet. Please make this short, Zayn."

"How informal, unprofessional even. How can you say that to your patient?"

"Well, when the patient is you, Zayn Malik, I believe it is safe to say that any lack of professionalism regarding you will not deter you of whatever your goal is."

"Perhaps. Anyway, about my nightmare-"

"Oh yes, your nightmare. Did it really frighten you, or did you simply want me to entertain once again?"

"Both actually. It was about you."

"Go on."

"Interested now, I see. . . You were dead, your blood in a pool around your head like a halo. A dead angel whose wings were ripped out. I was standing above you, my hands soaked in the same ink that wrote out your death. I woke up without a breath in my lungs or a word in my head. It was terrifying not to be able to think."

"You were more scared of a blank mind than asphixiation?"

"Well of course. A blank mind can't tell the lungs to breathe or your heart to pump. The only silence I can't stand is the one inside, darling"

"I'm glad you have started to become more comfortable with me, but please refrain from pet names."

"What? No diagnosis? No questions? What kind of 'mental health consultant' are you?"

"Dreams about murder help release repressed anger towards someone. It seems you are still angry with me then."

"A little. I'll get over it. Don't you have any question for me today?"

"I forget my clipboard at home, so no. . . I thought you would be happy about that."

"There isn't much time left. . ."

"What?"

"Nothing. . . Could you play some music?"

"Of course."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"I think we're  done today. Goodbye, darling."

"Goodbye, and I am not your darling."