The Deluge

⒉ On and Off Record

Chapter 2- On and Off Record

“I don’t know doc.

I don’t know why I’m here. Is it because of what I’ve done? Is it because of what she’s done? Is it because of what we’ve done? Collectively? What a hoot.

 Is it my own ‘rehabilitation’- oh don’t look at me with those reflecting, empty soulless glasses of yours. It really irks me when the light flashes off them and makes them opaque and I can’t see your eyes… like a dead spider’s eyes.

 It just makes me want to get up and throw them off your face. Or punch you and break them, and stomp on them and just get rid of them.

 I’m controlling myself here doc. Take them off. Please. They make my blood boil.

 …Thanks doc .Appreciate it, really.

 Where was I again?”

Eric could see him leaning back against the back of the armchair, uncaring, his legs splayed out obscenely in front of him.

“…Oh yeah. Why am I here again? Am I a rare undiscovered purple-thingy toad species that y’all are just crazy to get to know more about, or am I just a ‘poor soul led astray’?

 Do you guys really have my best interest at heart?

 Me?

 A murderer?”

His derisive laughter sent chills coursing down Eric’s spine.

“I saw how they all looked at me. Judging me.

 Yeah, go on ahead. Everyone’s a judger. Hel, I judge. I’m judging every big-headed asshole that sits me down and asks me questions to--

 Don’t take it personally doc. You’re a bit…fit yourself, not bad. I’d definitely be interested if I swung that way, but thanks no thanks. So you can stop sending an hour in front of the mirror every time you come in here-“

Eric paused the tape, massaging his temples slowly. His migraines seemed to be getting worse.

 He went over his notes, pausing to take a sip of his mug of coffee.

 Eurgh. It was lukewarm .

 He cast a look at the clock placed haphazardly on the teetering pile of files on the desk. He started with a slight jolt, staring in surprise at the luminescent green numbers indicating it was a well an hour past midnight. He got up, and stretched his back muscles, trying to work out the kinks in his shoulders.

 “Like a feline,” A rich purr interrupted his thoughts, making him freeze momentarily.

 He glanced over his shoulder, and smiled at the sight of his fiancé, holding a steaming mug of what he dearly hoped was a caffeinated beverage for him. Her hair was in a loose bun, slight tendrils framing her face. The threadbare plaid robe was pulled tight against her body, outlining her curves against the light from the living room. He could make out the barely indiscernible sound of the television in the background.

 Her nose scrunched itself up, looking over the mess he had made of his office.

 "Don’t burn yourself out Eric. You’re working too hard.”