[𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫]: Join Elena and Jake on journey around Los Angeles no one has seen so far, where they battle personal demons and emerge as a reunited cooperators. In a reunion marked by unraveling truths, they confront memories and face a myster...
No fear, no doubt; amusement, as this question reached my ears.
I shot a raised brow and casually huffed my nostrils, totally dissing the dude across the table.
As it should; I couldn't stand that son of a bitch. He's ancient yet still a newbie in the psych scene, as the journey from virgin student to verified therapist appearing longer than the bridge of his nose.
Crooked nose.
And when he grins at me, flashing those two tic-tac teeth, I can't help but notice they gleam as much as the bald patch on his head, shining brighter than an ice rink.
Four walls, clinically clean and white, devoid of any personality, just the faint scent of alcohol, making me wonder whether it's the odor of that man's cheap cologne or disinfectant.
And the floor?
Slippery as fuck; you'd have to watch every step to avoid breaking your neck.
The white window frames revealed nothing but my own reflection in the glass, while the deep darkness beyond it engulfed the outside world.
Not that there was much to see, with metal bars cutting across the view.
Safety first, they say, to keep any mentally deranged maniac from crashing through the window to put an end to the torment of listening to his raspy, cigarette-buried voice here.
How about we use some scissors to notch a few more holes in his throat, so he can catch some extra breath?
Poor guy's already gasping for air after every few words, might help him out.
Ah, that's just too basic, too dull for my taste.
"Need me to repeat myself?" — He brought me back from my daydreams about saving his sorry breathing system — "Step it up, you're better than that."
My gaze darted from the window to his face in a flash, my attention fully locked onto him.
