Prisoner

Chapter 2

"So do you wanna talk about your feelings or anything?"

"Are you really gonna pull out the same counselor bullshit?" Ethan sits across the table from me in the counseling room.

"Well," I drum my fingers against the plywood, "I am an intern counselor.

"You're young, I expected you to be different."

"Okay then," I throw my hands up in a surrender, "Let's have a normal conversation." As if it's that easy to have a normal conversation with cameras watching from all four corners.

"You know I'm a bad person right?" He eyes me from the side. I shift in silence. "You must think I'm some monster."

"No I don't." I swallow.

"Really?" Ethan leans forward and stretches out his arm. I stop breathing when he curls his fingers around my neck, his hand is so huge it wraps around three quarters of it.

I stay still as he applies a slight pressure and knocks some air out of me. I choke a little. "Hands off her, Dolan." The speaker above us booms. He drops his hand and leans back into his chair, smirking. "I'm surprised that you didn't scream for help."

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, drawing in a deep breath. "I trust you won't hurt me, you promised yesterday."

"You trust me?" He looks shocked.

"Yeah. You didn't gouge my eyes out or anything." I pat his hand reassuringly and he flinches. "Are you scared of me touching you?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"No," Ethan averts his gaze, "It's just, I haven't had much friendly contact with other people in a while." My heart clenches.

I reach out and run my fingers over his palm, his hand is warm and callused in some places. I lace my fingers through his and hold his hand.

I glance up at him, "Is this friendly enough?" He nods hesitantly and I feel his fingers close around my hand, holding it tight. "Let's just keep holding hands for the rest of this session." I murmur.

"Okay." Ethan stares down at our interlocked hands. "Why is your hand so cold?"

"The AC is blasting." I tuck my other freezing hand in between my thighs.

"I can give you my hoodie if you want," He pulls away from our grasp and takes off his hoodie, passing it to me. I slip it on, it's way too big on my but it's warm and comfy. It smells good, too, like aftershave and shampoo. Like him.

"You can keep it," he tousles his hair.

"Thanks."

"Can I ask you a question?" Ethan glances up at me.

"Yeah."

"Are you single?"

"No, I killed my ex-boyfriend and ate him." I quote his answer to my question yesterday.

He laughs and my heart swells, "No seriously, do you have a boyfriend?"

"No seriously, I don't, what about you?" I ask.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"You know that's not what I'm asking for," I kick him under the table.

"Well, I had one before I came here."

"Tell me about her." I guess this is considered as talking about your feelings, right? I'm totally not using anything taught in psychology.

"She was on the cheer team and we were the couple everyone knew about. But after the incident she wouldn't want to date a shit person like me." Ethan ducks his head.

"You're not shit."

"You don't know what I have done."

I gulp, "Why don't you tell me?"

"Session's over." The person over the speaker says. We stand and head towards the door where two guards were waiting.

"See you tomorrow," I touch Ethan's arm to get his attention. "Okay," he smiles a pained smile. I watch as the guards cuff his hands behind his back before leading him back to his cell.

As they lead him away, he starts to speak. "I'm afraid that if I tell you, you will bail out and I won't be able to see you again."