Why Aren't You Smiling?

Chapter Three

Wick Greenwood

     I rub my eyes tiredly and sit up. Yesterday was so tiring, I feel so gross. I hate being touched by anyone. I've felt this way for a long time. It feels like I was infected, I hate any touch from other human beings or them touching any of my items. At work it's fine because I wear gloves and they only touch the floor and their chair. But I never let anyone else besides myself step foot into my house. Not even family. Not that I have a lot of family but still, the point is, I have Mysophobia. It's the fear of germs or any contamination, a part of OCD which I don't have.
I stand up and do my morning schedule and scrub my hands more than I usually do. I cringe at the thought of Jeffery touching me,

• • •

"Pl-please stop..."
I start crying but I don't dare to make noise that shows my vulnerability, I don't want to encourage him anymore than crying does. He moves his hands up under my shirt and I close my eyes and bite my bottom lip. He slides his hands up my torso while grilling my sling forcefully, I already know there will be red marks all over where he's touched. He digs his nails in my skin and forcefully and roughly pulls his hands up my body. I wince at the pain and feel warm liquid fall from the wounds.
"Stop!"
Why the FUCK?! Did I think removing his buckles was a good idea?! I wanted him to trust but now I don't care, this can't be tolerated! It'll only make him want to do it more.
"JEFFERY!"
His hands reach my throat and he grips the skin while his nails dig in to my flesh allowing more blood to fall.
"What the fuck do you want? I'm enjoying our little game right now."
"LET GO RIGHT NOW JEFFERY!"
He moves his hands up and grips the left side of my face with his right hand. He uses his left hands and with his nail he traces a large line from the corner of my mouth to my ear,
"Only if... I had a knife... then, I would kill you... and make you smile."
His grin stretches widely pulling at the stitches on his face. His wounds reopen and his own blood threatening to leave his body.
"Jeffery. Let go."
He removes his hands from my face and slowly pulls them down my body. He gets to my waist and drags his hands to my thighs. He digs his nails now into my thigh and bite my bottom lip trying not to cringe or cry or scream.
"Go ahead..."
He pushes his nails harder into my legs and somehow smiles wider,
"Go ahead, and scream, cry, call for help, see what happens."
I shake my head,
"N-no, Jeffery let go of me right now."
He removes his hands from me and leans back in the chair still smirking,
"Fine, go, do whatever, buckle me back up if it makes you feel safer."
He leans forward one more time and puts his lips to my ear,
"But while I'm here, you'll never be safe."

• • •

I slip my white gloves onto my hands and sigh with a bit of relief, I would have killed myself by now if gloves weren't a thing. I should get to work.

•

I say bye to my patient and close his cell door, I don't quite understand why that patient is still here, he seems completely sane by now with my calculations and observations, he can hold a good conversation and doesn't hang out with the completely insane patients when they get free time. I sigh and thank my past self for putting a pin in my hair to pull it back otherwise it would be in my face. Well... I mentally prepare myself to go to room 706, I'm not ready for this but I'll act like it never happened.
I walk down the silent halls of the patient area, it's oddly quiet today... oh yes, they reinstalled all of the doors with sound proof ones, how could I forget. The only sound is my shoes tapping against the ground, the guards at either ends of the hall are completely quiet knowing they shouldn't make a sound.

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     I knock on the door and grab the keys out of my pocket, I use the key on the lock and open the door. I put the keys away and walk in staring at Jeffery who stares right back at me with his unblinking eyes. The surgeons who looked at Jeffery said they could try their best to get his skin back to normal and give him back mostly functioning eyelids. But his smile would be forever scarred on his face.
I don't think they should try to 'fix him', each patient who hurt themselves did it for a reason. And even if they didn't hurt themselves it happened for a reason. Is a sane human being had a scar on their back they might just call it their battle wounds or just disregard it. And though the scars may be scary they mean something, what happens to Jeffery happened for a reason and no matter how much therapy and counseling we give him he will forever think the same way and act the same way. After all, patients like this get encouraged to be bad if you try to make them good.
"Jeffery Woods, I am Wick Greenwood. Today we'll talk abou-"
"Shut up, you already told me your name and I don't honestly give a fuck. I told you to call me Jeff and stop acting nice and professional it's annoying. I already know what you think of me so why don't you treat me the way you want to."
"Jeffer- Jeff, I would appreciate if you didn't use such crude language. And I do not find you disgusting as you might think I do, and what happened yesterday is in the past, okay? Why don't we just be friends as I have already suggested."
He grunts and nods,
"Alright, fine. As you've already suggested, let's be friends.