Why Aren't You Smiling?

Chapter One

Wick Greenwood

     I watch the door open agonizingly slow and four guards with a boy in their grip enter. Two guards in the back have a hand on his shoulder and and two next to him have a grip on his forearm but not really well, due to him wearing a straightjacket.
     "Okay, please let go of him and go back to your posts." 
      They keep their grip on him and shake their head,
     "No. He is not safe."
      I stare blankly at the guard who said that and try remembering his name,
     "Dave. You know I know what to do if something happens, we'll be fine, now please go."
     I give them all a stare that leaves no room for any argument. They let go of him and leave the room with guilty looks on their face. The man stands in front of the entrance with an unreadable expression. I grab my notebook for my personal note taking and stand up. I take a pen from my desk and walk around the wooden barrier,
      "Please sit there, or look around."
     I always give my patients the option to sit or look around so they feel more relaxed. He reluctantly moves to the chair sits down, I study his face and he doesn't avert his eyes or stand back up. He has long deep cuts from the ends of his mouth to his ears as if he was smiling, though he his lips are in a straight line. Stitches that obviously won't help him at all desperately pull at the wounds trying to press the flesh together. His skin is white, abnormally white, paper white. It looks almost rubbery, I can only imagine what happened to him. His eyelids have been cut away leaving his eyes bloodshot and and dry. His hair is black and looks like it needs to be conditioned at least thirty times and brushed double that. It's long and unruly, it's down to the first buckle of his straight jacket which is a few inches past his shoulders.
      I look down at my notebook where I've written a few notes about him that I may need. He's seventeen almost eighteen and he's well, male. He hasn't talked to anyone or cooperated with the police yet, that's where I come in. His name is, Jeffery Woods.
     "Jeffery, I'm Wick, I'll be your friend."
     I look back down at my notebook which I've placed on my lap and hear Jeffery shifting in the leather chair. My body tenses up at and unexpected sound in front of me, it's hoarse and sounds like he hasn't talked in a while, it's deep and menacing and all because of one word spoken those traits showed itself to me,
     "Friend?"
      I look up at him and close my notebook with my pen inside marking my page. I clear my throat not wanting him to hear any weakness, that fuels people like him, killers.
      "Of course, this isn't a prison Jeffery, we help sick people here."
     He starts to look frustrated and leans forward in an intimidating way,
     "But I'm NOT sick, right Wick?"
     I pull on my shirt collar a bit then look him straight in the eyes, he may be intimidating but I'll be more,
     "You're right Wick, I don't understand why they call my patients sick, they are just people who need a push into society."
      He stands up and takes a few steps towards me, I do my best to keep my composure and look up at him as he stands in front of me.
     "I'd kill you, but my arms are a little tied up here."
      He bends down so our noses are almost touching and I can feel his breath run down my neck,
     "Do you know that I don't like people like you? Acting like they can HELP others? Because you can't, I can see that you're scared, I could STILL kill you without my hands."
      I allow my smile that I had earlier to drop and let my expression become blank,
     "I know you could, but you won't, because you know I'm the only who can help you here, none of the patients can help you, they're all out of their minds, and the guards don't like you."
      His frowning lips turn into a smirk allowing his cuts to stop tugging so hard at the stitches. He stands up straight again and sits back down in his chair, he crosses his legs and tilts his head to the side a little,
     "I really hate people like you."
     I nod and continue running over my notes with my eyes,
     "Well Jeffery, that's all the information I need today, I feel like I know a lot more about you now. I'll walk you back to your room."
     He grimaces and stands up,
     "Jeff."
     "What?"
     "Call me Jeff."
     It sounds like a threat when he says that, but I'll just take that as him starting to open up to me. I smile at him and stand up, I walk to the door and open it for him, though he doesn't move. I don't say anything knowing that can piss people off when you repeat something they've already heard. He takes a few steps forward and towers over me,
     "Is something wrong?"
     He stares for a few moments then scoffs, he continues walking slowly out of the room and waits in the hall for me. I stand next to him and let the door slam shut. I start walking away already know he would follow,
     "Look Jeff, I know that having to be here is annoying. But we need to protect other people and in order to do that we have to make sure the ones causing the pain, stop. And Jeff you already know where you are in that."
     I take a deep breath and look to Jeff who's looking off to the side,
      "You hate me I get that. But I will still help you, if you have any chance of leaving you will need me. I know how your brain works, kill, laugh, kill, laugh, kill, sigh, kill, get bored, repeat. But I can make life more fun for you, I can even help you out, this isn't a jail but I can still help you leave what you would call a jail."
     I take a deep breath and continue,
     "And we both know this is just a phase in your life, this institution, because you know how to get what you want. Trust me and I'll trust you, which can only lead you to a faster route to the next point in your life."
     I look to Jeff and he stares at me and stops walking,
     "I KNOW you'll help me out, with me as a patient daily and my strength, it's your only choice."