- TR -

Day 2

Munching his way through a bag of Doritos, Edward watched with a strange sort of enthralled fixation as his subject sat reading a book. By Kate's report yesterday, Isabella had brought a total of four books with her. Mostly classics but he couldn't give a shit about this detail. What had led him to this trance now was, in fact, the alluring shape of Isabella's body and the almost methodical way she had snuggled herself on that armchair. With sin-shaped legs defying their hinges as they slowly bent, and finally finding their separate purposes as their owner chose one as her perfect reading prop. Or the way every word she was reading, kept playing on her face like she was seeing it vividly happen before her eyes. But apart from the turn of a page, a few casual twirls on her hair or insignificant scratches, for about two hours she'd barely moved an inch from that position – that innocent, yet begging to be ravaged, sinful position.

Edward sucked the orange dust stuck to his fingers, as he wondered about the one time she had actually moved throughout this time period. Yes, he nodded with his thoughts, it's already happening. She's finally letting her guard down. When Isabella started following her urges to change the space she inhabited, suiting it to her own needs, she inadvertently started a process of appropriation. Even if cognitively she was only changing a simple piece of furniture from its original place – as was the case with an armchair – Isabella had changed the previous pattern of her actions from transient to owner.

Spinning his chair away from the screen, he chased the salty flavor in his mouth with the artificial sweetness of an energy drink, feeling relieved by this turn of events. Edward couldn't deny he preferred this reaction much more than her cold shoulder from yesterday. He had been prepared for the silent treatment, a mighty fit of rage or even – although he prayed ardently for its opposite – her immediate departure from the room. Instead, he had to cope with an unsettling world of bare minimums.

She had barely spoken through last night's evaluation, only offering short sentences which dripped with ill-concealed tedium. She had barely eaten more than a few forkfuls from the two main meals that came yesterday through the meal slot. Shit, she had barely made herself visible most of the time, when she basically threw herself under the bed covers and pretended to sleep the day away. So yes, Edward was definitely okay with the prospect of seeing an end to her rebuff. Now he'd only have to wait to find why.

- TR -

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"I would like for you to elaborate today, Isabella."

"I don't know. I guess I feel more resigned to what's happening. But that's not the word exactly. Maybe acceptive."

"Were you having trouble with the concept of being confined, or was it some other exterior motive which was holding your acceptance?"

"I could say I still had reservations with the trial."

"But not anymore?"

"I signed up for the challenge, Doctor. Even if I currently don't trust my reasonings for doing so, it wouldn't be fair to give up because of it."

"Fair to who?"

"To everyone. To you?"

"But not you? It sounds like I'm twisting your arm. Do you feel obligated to me?"

"Well, no... Or I guess, yes, in regards to my sense of duty."

"Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you move the armchair earlier?"

"What?"

"The armchair. You changed its position so it now faces the window. Why?"

"Oh… I normally like to read close to the sun."

"Is it usually an activity you do outdoors?"

"No, no… Well, I guess sometimes I do, but not much. I…"

"Yes?"

"It's kind of stupid… I think I like the sun because it reminds me of home. My dad's home, that is."

"Is it a sunny place?"

"Nooooo, quite the opposite! But the lack of sun, is probably a direct cause of me liking to read close to a window so much. On the rare occasions it actually came out, I liked to feel its direct presence. It was calming somehow."

"That sounds comforting… Umm… uh… Did you learn anything new about yourself today?"

"Only that I may be more frigid than I believed, Dr. E."

"Wha– Why do say that?"

"Because I came here convinced I could finally allow myself to wallow over the break-up with my boyfriend, yet I find myself incapable of exerting any kind of emotion for the man who spent four years with me… and thought I would be fine with the idea of him fucking someone else for the whole last year of it! I can't feel nothing. I'm a heartless bitch, Doctor."

"Hey now, take it easy on yourself! I believe you're being too cerebral about things. There's no defined timeframe for when you should wallow. It could take time to process that sort of pain… A heart mends at its needed pace, Isabella."

"You think? 'Cause it ended six months ago."

"Well..."

"Dr. E?"

"Yes, Isabella?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now let's wrap things up for the day. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Okay, then. Isabella, thank you again for your collaboration. Have a good night."

...

It would take at least three more hours, until Bella could pinpoint exactly why a lingering feeling of calmness had been prevailing her senses. Why, while she had entered the bathroom and going through her nightly routine, she still felt that silent kind of quality one would get in association with a peaceful mind. At first she didn't give much thought to it, justifying the prolonged mood as a normal aftereffect of a much-deserved, well-rested night of sleep. But while savoring her way through a delicious plate of mushroom ravioli, and the touch of its soothing embrace had waved its way through her mind once again, Bella had reflected more carefully on its cause.

She had racked her brain through a pretty much uneventful day, enlarging those moments she thought could have meant something more. But the cringeworthy mental image of herself as she tried disingenuously to drown her break-up with a pint of strawberry ice cream had managed to restrain her curious wandering thoughts that much quicker. So she had found herself riding along this continuous feeling without further thought, mindless of its repeating laps along her limbs, through her stomach and around her heart. Consequently, she even heard herself laugh with gusto together with a riveted audience, as the talk show host goofed around with the latest flavor-of-the-month, Hollywood starlet. But the dawning realization would only come later, with the down brushstrokes through her long hair and a stubborn frown reflected on the bathroom mirror.

Making the short walk from the bathroom to the bed, Bella could feel the pinprick of an invisible set of eyes against her exposed neck, awareness and an awkward sense of embarrassment now pulling the strings of an unsettled heart. Slowly, she took a seat on the mattress then chanced a glance toward one of the cameras, biting her bottom lip as she mulled over her own conclusions. Because now that she had sifted through it all, Bella realized there's a common link to every moment she had felt suffused with this serene, hazy feeling. One she neglected to analyze when her brain had decided to go after self-centered tangents instead and only came back empty-handed and disappointed: a voice.

Bella could no longer reject the idea that the doctor's rich-toned voice had been oh-so-subtly echoing around the back of her brain over the last few hours. But how, she wondered. How was it possible that with a mere change of tone, he could now seep so easily through her thoughts? Because it certainly wasn't the detached, no nonsense, unfeeling voice from yesterday she kept replaying. It was something new and mystifying, something with form and character; something that undoubtedly was powerful enough to change her perception of him.

Laid on her back with a hand between a cotton pillow and her head, Bella started to realize that with this unexpected transformation of his conduct, somehow her own mind began playing a very different kind of profile than that of the cold-hearted charlatan she'd attributed to Dr. E on the previous day. Maybe it's because the grit had textured into a rasp, but today seemed to only be a husk. Or perhaps it didn't have a thing to do with tone but instead its impression, and how for a second there today, he had sounded genuinely curious – and not just scientifically curious – but also worried for her. But could he really care about her? Should he? And was this sudden change a good enough reason to trust him? Bella felt torn.

She could be deluding herself into thinking his reformed attitude had been done in repentance, instead of being an intentional, strategic ruse to make her more mild and complacent in this setting. As she scooted down more comfortably under the covers and turned to switch off the bedside lamp, Bella concluded that for the time being, if he was willing to change and be more pleasant to her, then so could she.

She sighed a sleepy, deep breath and began practicing aloud, "Good night, Dr.E."