Book Lover ✓

06

six

I'M LISTENING TO Roses by Shawn Mendes on replay while waiting for my appointment with Dr Franklin at the clinic. The waiting room is as colourless as every other part of the clinic, the walls void of anything but the generic white faced clock that is most probably therapeutic for mentally unstable people like me. But the slow ticking of the hands are annoying me; they don't match the tempo of the song. Other than the row of silver benches and the wooden doors leading to therapy rooms, there is a bookshelf filled with medical magazines that can probably serenade mentally unstable people like me. Unfortunately, I would rather let Shawn Mendes's wonderful voice serenade me than a bunch of boring non-fictions.

     Broken Hearts Mend Each Other sits on my lap, my fingers absently fiddling with the pages, my lips mouthing the lyrics silently. I'm more than halfway through the book and things are starting to heat up between Elliot and Melissa. In the book, Elliot is almost always wearing a hoodie . . .

     Why does his description match the Elliot I met in school? They both have the same blue eyes, strong features and lean frame . . . Elliot is everything I imagined Elliot Cartwright to be! Confusion washes over me and my fingers move up to my lips to pull at them. Almost immediately after reading about fictional Elliot, a real-life Elliot shows up magically and enters my life like picking up a book.

     Like he is Elliot Cartwright come to life.

     A dull pain spreads through my skull and I shut my eyes tightly to battle it. I rub circles on my temple in order to soothe the pain, but it's always more talk than action for that one. The music in my ears are making it a little dizzy for me, so I pull out the earbuds and throw them into my backpack before settling against the back of the bench and try to relax.

     No matter what, I'm glad for his presence now. The present is all that counts.

     The headache eventually recedes and I open my eyes to the bright florescent lights. Automatically my eyes fall shut again as I try to adjust to the brightness after closing my eyes for so long. I can hear some distant hysteric crying from one of the doors, the girl before my appointment lost it again.

     Several minutes later the door on the left swings open and out steps a girl with dishevelled dark hair and a red face. She haphazardly leaves the waiting room with loud sniffles. Dr Franklin balances herself at the door, cleaning her glasses with her white lab coat. When she looks at me to ask me to come in, everything in her actions scream that she is tired from the last session.

     "What happened to Patricia?" I ask as I sit down on the white leather couch. It sinks under my weight and I adjust myself to make myself comfortable for the next hour here. Dr Franklin walks over to her desk with a loud sigh to pick up my folder. I feel kind of bad to be here now after she just dealt with a mentally unstable girl that just broke down hysterically in her consultation room 10 minutes ago.

     "Another episode," Dr Franklin answers curtly. She is a tall woman, her blond hair pulled tightly into a neat low bun and black-framed glasses rests on the bridge of her nose. Her voice is deep and soothing and she's a great listener. She has been my counsellor for as long as I required them, and I like her very much. "So, how are you today, Cassie?" She is one of the few people who call me Cassie.

     My mind races over the events that has taken place today. "Pretty good," I say. "No one really bothered with me, and I picked up some books to read." I hold up the book and shake it a little to emphasise it. Dr Franklin nods and jots what I've said down onto her folder.

     "What book is that?"

     "Broken Hearts Mend Each Other."

     "Is it good?"

     I think about it. As a psychiatrist, that question shouldn't simply be directed at the quality of the story. Along with my years of experience with her, Dr Franklin is one person who gets straight to her point and I'm quite familiar with her methods.

     "I think it is," I finally say. "But I can't say for sure that it is for me because I haven't been reading for long, but for now, it's doing good for me." I ponder whether to tell her about Elliot. If I told her about my suspicions about Elliot Cartwright coming to life, she would probably laugh and tell me I'm crazy. "I really like the book."

     "All right . . ." She furiously scribbles on her folder, the sounds of her pen scraping against the paper reverberates around the room. Dr Franklin is a minimalist, I assume. Her consultation room is painted in white, a big white desk and a big white couch occupies the most space in the spacious room. Her desk only has the most basic things: a laptop, several folders, stationery, and a box of tissue. A single pot of cactus rests at the window sill and it adds a little life to the rather boring room. "How about the cigs?"

     My hands feel the comforting packet of cigarettes in my pocket. I shake my head no. Dr Franklin nods in understanding. She has been trying to get me to quit smoking for a long time, but I never seem to be able to give it up.

     "There's really not much to be done for now except to see whether reading will help a little at your anxiety," she tells me, leaning against her desk. I feel a little out of place in my dark blue hoodie.

     "Yeah."

     "How about them?"

     Their black heart tattoos flash in mind along with all the horrible things they've done to me. There is a gang at MA with boys that basically rule the entire academy under their horrible reign. All members have the same heart tattoos on the inside of their left wrist, right against their pulse points, signifying their membership and dedication to the gang. Once you enter it, it's permanent, like the tattoo they get.

     The head of the gang used to be Colton Hunter, but since he graduated, he is succeeded by Peter Brookes, who is not much less of a tyrant than his predecessor. Towering over almost everyone at school, Peter Brookes is not someone anyone will want to mess with. Unfortunately for me, he takes enough interest in me to constantly want to destroy my life in MA.

     I don't realise I am biting my lip too hard until the skin breaks and I taste the metallic taste of blood on my tongue. I try to soothe the sting with my tongue and wince a little at the feel of the broken skin.

     "They have not been doing anything," I say after a moment's silence. My fingers knot themselves above the book; I don't like to talk about them, but they are one of the reasons I needed counselling and I cannot not talk about them. "I met Benjamin Devon at The Coffee Man yesterday."

     Dr Franklin raises an eyebrow. "Devon?"

     I nod. "He's one of them now, Benjamin Devon. I saw the tattoo on his wrist." Goose bumps rise on my skin at the memory of the tattoo.

    She looks perplexed by the information. "I never thought . . ."

     I smirk at her. "You never thought he will go down this path? Well, I never thought I will go down this path either."

     She shakes her head almost sadly. "Things don't always go as planned, Cassie."

• • •

first publication: October 5th, 2018

Hello! How are my favourite people doing? Must be more interesting than my life right now cuz literally all I do all day is sit and watch/play/write.

Anyways I hope you liked this chapter and vote for me! Thank you for reading this story :-)