Resisted Attraction

Part 5: Haunted Eyes of Psychology

Part 5: Haunted Eyes of Psychology

-.-.-

I searched around my dresser for a black costume mask. Even though Rain, I mean Heath, saw my face last night, I couldn't risk him remembering me. I grabbed the mask and put it on around my eyes.

I opened the door of my bedroom only to see the couch empty.

The blankets were folded up on the couch, and another sticky note was stuck beside the one I left last night.

City,

I don't know how I ended up here. Watch your back.

-Silent Rain

He doesn't remember last night. I let out a breath. I walk over to the coffee pot and grab my favorite grey mug.

I pour out the coffee letting the aroma consume me and clear my mind. I pour a few teaspoons of caramel creamer in the cup with the coffee. The coffee turns a light brown.

I sit at the counter and sip on my coffee. My mind wanders back to the day at the association. Crimes have been going down in the past two months besides petty crimes like Beatrice's.

Miko meows at me from his spot on the floor, but then he jumps onto the counter. He rubs against my hand. His grey fur glistens in the sunlight coming through the small window over the sink.

"Hey, baby. Do you need to be fed?"

I hop off the stool and refill his food and water container. I carry my mug with me to my room. I sit it on top of the dresser as I search for a pair of black slacks.

"Okay, I need to go to the association to check on Flare's rehab therapy and to do paperwork," I say to myself.

I put on the black slacks I pull from my drawer, and I pair them with a grey flair shirt.

My morning routine is fairly, well, routine. I get ready, have my coffee, feed Miko. It's all the same.

By the time, I get to work the coffee has kicked in. I walk to the secretary's desk, and she smiles the same smile she's smiled for the past four years.

"Rosabelle, dear, what can I do for you?"

"It's Rose," I correct. "Um, can I go see how Be- I mean, The Flare is doing?"

The secretary types something into one of her three computers. Her long acrylics click against the keys in a constant rhythm.

"Okay, dear, I think that should be just fine. Do you know where the room is?" She peers up from behind her blue spectacles.

"Yes, ma'am." I nod. "Thank you."

I walk down to the same room as last time. My authorization card unlocks the door. I open the door the lock clicks behind me.

Beatrice sits in a metal chair. Her hands are still in handcuffs, and her hands fiddle with a game controller.

Her head snaps up at my arrival. Her eyes are dark and sunken, but a smile illuminates her face.

"Beatrice," I greet.

Something feels off about her. She looks tired yet awake all at the same time. She looks almost disconnected.

"Hello, Dark Strike. Why are you here? Do I have another treatment?" Beatrice seems to lose voice when she says treatment.

"Uh, no. I just came to check on you. How are you're treatments? Have you seen the Psychologist?"

Beatrice doesn't look at me. She seems to peer through me to look at the door.

"The treatments have been good. I really think I'm getting help here."