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I sit in the red fluffy chair next to the window in Doctor Maria’s office. Watching the rain fall down the glass as I play connect the dots to create an image. It smells of warm apples and cinnamon in here, and small trinkets and knitted blankets make the room feel homey, safe.
“How are you feeling today, Jasmine?”
I ponder the question, searching my brain for the truest answer. “Good. Maybe a little numb, but I do feel the little spark of happiness hugging my mind.” I laugh. “If that makes sense.”
She chuckles, adjusting her glasses, no stupid clipboard in sight. “The medicine will even out eventually, and you won’t feel so numb. More at peace.”
I smile. “Peace? I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, listening to the light patters of rain hit the window. “Are you ready?”
My body tenses, the ugly monster of fear trying to raise its head, to scare me and send me back. “Yes.”
She nods, crossing her legs. I pull the knitted blanket tighter around me. “Let’s begin. How did you feel when you were trapped in that box, Jasmine?”
“Desperate. Lost. Hopeless.” My voice is unrecognizable. No emotion to indicate how I’m feeling.
“Do you want to talk about the hallucinations?”
I shake my head no, but a quiet “Yes” slips out instead.
“Tell me about them.”
I take a deep breath, wiggling the numbness out of my fingers. “I heard… him.”
“Who?” I stay silent. “Saying his name out loud doesn’t give him any power, Jasmine. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you ever again. Don’t give him the power to anymore.”
I swallow, looking away from the window to the kind, honey eyes, nodding. “Felix.”
She nods. “Very good, Jasmine. And what did Felix say?”
My hands tighten on the blanket. “Lots of things, but the one I remember the most is, I told you I would eventually get you again.”
Maria purses her lips, eyes covered in a barely contained shine. “And how much do you remember about Felix from when he was alive?”
My back stiffens. After years of Doctor Shackler brainwashing me, it took some time but… “Everything.”
“And how much power do you give those memories?”
There’s a tiny flicker of pride in my chest, the last chain in my mind breaking free as I smile and say, “None.”
Maria’s smile is bright, a single tear of happiness leaks from her sparkling eyes. “Very good, Jasmine.”
* * *
I look at the creation I made, painted in light strokes of bright colors, the piece radiating happiness. I abandoned my usual style of abstract art for this certain piece, wanting to try something different. The girl dances in a field of flowers, a sage green dress flows in the unseen breeze. A smile painted on her joyful face. The flowers are bright in shades of purple, orange, yellow, and red. The sun shines bright and high in the sky. Butterflies dancing along the flowers as if the happiness dripped onto their wings, making them hostage to the feeling.
I smile, warmth spreading from the tips of my toes to the pads of my fingers. It takes everything in me for me not to dance around the visitation room as I wait for Easton. I can’t wait to see him. Since I’ve been in here, as part of protocol, I haven’t had any visitors.
The door swings open, the air shifting and bending to his will as he strolls in. Gray sweatpants hang low on his waist, a tight white t-shirt stretching over his pectoral muscles, and if I’m not mistaken, his biceps have gotten bigger. His arms stretch the seams of the sleeves. He’s rocking a five-o’clock shadow, his hair longer than it usually is, hues of light brown bouncing off the bright lights of the room. His eyelids lower as he takes me in. The hazels sparkling, swirling. I look less than perfect in my standard sweats and messy hair slung over my shoulders, but the look he gives me makes me feel as if I am a beauty queen. Which in itself is amazing because I’ve never felt so beautiful.
As a way of greeting, he cups my cheeks, crashing my body to his as he lays kiss after kiss on my lips. “Say the word and I will break you out of here.”
I smile into his kiss. “Not much longer and I’ll be out of here.”
He groans, kissing me one more time. “I know, but I fucking miss you.”
My finger traces the curve of his cheek. “I miss you, too.”
