Gast: Volume 1: Dead to rights. (Gothic Horror) (Completed)

Chapter 6 - How should I feel?

The waiting room's walls were coated yellow — this was a cheap but effective trick. Those feelings that caused Adam's heart to flutter and pound — all the anger and resentment that was taunting him from his fragile mind — all of it, was due to the colour of the walls.

Yellow provokes the worst and the best from those that are receptive — it opens wounds that refuse to close. Adam didn't notice the yellow walls, but they still had a profound impact on his psyche. Adrift among his chaotic thoughts, the world passed him by — people moved, spoke to one another, laughed and joked — all while Rose was dead. And this left him feeling cheated, worthless and angry at the world. How dare it continue on as usual while she was dead — while he mourned. It was a slap in the face — a fuck you from the world.

He clenched and unclenched his fists as the voices berated him, tortured him and drove him closer to madness.

She's dead — dead.

The voices had become louder — loud enough that he couldn't hear himself think. Anger, like any emotion, needs an outlet. Adam's outlet was thankfully inanimate. And so, he took out his anger on the chair.

Adam slammed his fists down on the chair's armrest, harder and harder each time until he heard a satisfying crack. Horrified — but also feeling better, he switched seats behind a couple.

They whispered sweet-nothings to one another — the couple was just another regular couple, but grief can alter perception. To Adam, they were both staring at him and smiling — rubbing in the fact that Rose was gone, and he was alone. The man whispered in her ear and she blushed — laughed even.

Her eyes lingered on Adam and he exhaled deep trying to control his darker impulses. Grief affects everyone differently — some lament while other's rage. Even the smallest and most insignificant objects can remind those in mourning of what they have lost and what's been stolen from them. They can see shades and specters — and be haunted by them at every given opportunity — such is grief. Unfortunately for Adam, this was more than grief — more than those hurtful daggers that pierce the hearts of the mourning. Rose was not limited to being a bitter and hurtful memory — she was real and she was stood behind him — watching him with those dead eyes of hers.

"Adam Nye?" called the receptionist.

Mentally picturing himself beating the lovers to a bloody pulp — he didn't hear his name being called. The metal chair was clutched tight in his grip and he used that chair to bash their heads in. He stood over them out of breath. The specters of Rose had surrounded him, enveloped him and they all hated him. He could see it in her face — Adam closed his eyes and continued to slam the chair down on the lover's heads. Hoping that Rose would simply vanish — he opened his eyes and he was no longer using the metal chair on the lovers — but on Rose. Blood-soaked, she begged him to stop — however, his hand had a will of its own. Adam screamed as the chair raised one final time and crushed Roses skull.

"Adam!" she mumbled and collapsed to the floor with her hand gripped tight on his leg.

"Adam Nye!" A voice slipped through the delusion and he realized that he was day-dreaming.

"Adam Nye?" The receptionist called over again and glared as he raised his hand.

"Room 6, she's ready for you." the reception mumbled and called out the next name on her list.

He stood and immediately became light-headed, and unsteady on his feet. Taking a deep breath and centering himself, he walked to the room 6 and the psychiatrist that awaited him.

Her face changed when he walked into the room — It was subtle and lasted barely a millisecond but Adam noticed — he always noticed - he was growing to loathe this farse with a passion. He wanted people to mourn with him, to feel his rage and sadness but the best they could do was fake empathy and insincerity.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Adam's vein pulsated and twitched in the side of his head — he tried not to explode in anger, and instead bit down on his lip. He shuddered as he understood how easy it was for him to become enraged — he would need to keep that beast under a very tight leash.

"So stupid question but how do you feel?" she asked, with her notepad open and the pen in her hand.

"Angry." Adam lowered his head and sighed.

"That's perfectly normal," she said, watching his bodily tells for further information.

"It is?" he asked raising his head to meet her gaze.

"Absolutely." she smiled.

"You know this from experience? Or because you read it in a textbook?" Adam asked with that all too familiar anger oozing from him.

She stared at him. The false empathic mask slipped from her face and Adam smiled as he witnessed the rage in her eyes. She bit the end of her pen and the mask returned with a smile.

"You're angry? Angry at yourself? Angry at Death for taking her from you? Be specific, it helps."

"Neither," Adam sighed.

"Go on! You're not paying me to sit in silence," she said, without looking up from her notebook.

"I'm angry at the world. It sounds stupid, but it baffles me how other people can laugh and smile when she's dead. How they can function, go about their business, work. Hell, even sleep."

"Do you feel better at all now that you've shared," she said emotionless.

"Not at all."

She closed her notebook and stared at him, truly seeing him for the first time since he entered her office.

"You've lost weight. Are you eating?"

"Yes." he lied.

She knew he was lying, he could see it in her face.

"Adam these first months are pivotal for your emotional development. If you feel like crying then go ahead and cry, If you feel angry, take your anger out on something inanimate, preferably boxing. Don't suppress or deny these feelings. This is very important. Doing so will have negative and long-lasting psychological effects."

"Noted." he stood and turned to flee the room but he stopped and asked her a question. A question that she was very used to hearing from people like Adam.

"Is it normal to see her, hear her, and feel her around me?"

"Perfectly," she replied and Adam left the room. unbeknownst to her, this was the worst advice to give someone in the history of bad advice. She thought that Adam was being metaphorical with his words. the thought never occurred to her that he was being very literal.

Adam left the room but Rose stayed. Rose glared at her with as much hatred as she could muster in her heart and the woman shivered.

A grin spread across Rose's lips and she reluctantly followed Adam, followed the man that had tethered her to this world.