"Now Phil," Mrs. Grobat crossed her vein covered, stockinged legs and faced Phil, pen at the ready on paper. "Tell me what happened." Phil looked at her in stunned curiosity. Really, that's your approach? What happened to him? Just tell her the most horrifying and tragic thing that happened to him as if they were at a tea party? When Phil refused to speak, as normal, she seemed a little put out but she didn't rush him. Gets paid but the hour, Phil guessed. But then, this stranger surprised him.
She set down the clipboard and, with a sigh, lowered her turtleneck to reveal a long, ragged scar that nearly touched her from ear to ear.
"Don't worry Phil, I'm just like you." She spoke softly and kindly, but her words didn't help. "'We are ALL Victims Here.'" She quoted the clinic's slogan but placing the shirt back into place and grabbing her clipboard again. "Your friend Louise filled me in on what happened." She huffed, relaxing back into the chair. "She also said you haven't spoken since." She added with a concerned look. Phil only nodded. "Phil," She grabbed his knee with her one free hand and whispered "Bad things happen to good people, but it doesn't make the good people bad." Phil flinched away from her touch and rose to his feet, turning towards the door. She shook her head and pressed a button on her desk, exasperatedly. Phil tucked on the knob, but the door wouldn't budge.
"You have to speak again Phillip." She was writing something down as Phil turned to her. "You need to learn to trust people again. Just because one bad man hurt you, doesn't mean the whole world will at any moment." Phil grew angry and looked for something to write with but the only thing was her pen and paper, and she was using that. He whipped out his phone but by the time he texted it, she had said "I am not reading anything on that screen, Phillip. My eyes can't handle that light." He still shoved it in her face anyways.
'YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT WHAT I WENT THROUGH!' It screamed at her. Then he took it back and typed a new message: 'I WAS RAPED BY A MAN WHO CLAIMED HE LOVED ME THREE MONTHS AGO BEFORE LEAVING ME WITH A HOOKER!' Phil looked at this and fell to the leather chair, crying. Seeing it in text was so much worse than brewing about it at the back of your mind for months, seeing it brought it all rushing back in screaming reality. Mrs. Grobat picked up the phone and used her reading glasses to see it clearly and read it to the broken, hoarse sobs of Phil.
She looked over at the broken twenty some year old man with sadness. He had learned one of life's harshest lessons: Just because someone says they love you, doesn't mean they care about you. But it also doesn't mean that has to define who you are your whole life.
"Phil, there is a meeting tomorrow night with people just like you; a support group, of sorts." She ripped off the sheet of paper she had been writing on and handed it to Phil along with a tissue. Phil took the tissue but refused the paper. "Just," She placed it in her hand with his phone then held both out to him. "Consider it." He glared at her before taking back his phone and the paper. "Will you?" She asked, he nodded. She pressed the button, knowing he would consider it due to her persuasion, and let him go. He tried not looking at the paper as he stuffed it into his pocket blindly, but he still felt the words in his pocket, like a loaded gun; very hard to ignore.
During the meeting...
Down the hall...
"No fucking way, you better let me out of here right the fuck now!" Dan bellowed trying to yank the door open, to no avail.
"Mr. Howell, I insist you listen to what I have to say." the woman ordered. Dan was still then turned back and glared at her as he sat down to listen. "Now," She removed her glasses to look at him more clearly. "I think we should reacquaint ourselves. I am Miss Harper Turner and I just want to talk and have you listen. Can you do that, without interruption?" She asked. He felt like a complete child, being told what to do, but he nodded and obeyed. "Good," She took to the seat behind her desk and began.
"I am from Spain originally, but I moved to England to escape from being raped by a man who said he love me for the rest of my life." She then told her tale of woe; how she married this man in hopes to have children, she knew he was abusive but she knew he'd never hurt her, he raped her and nearly killed her. Thanks to her friends, she was able to run away from her problems and start a degree in therapy. Little did she know, she would end up helping people just like her. "But running away didn't solve anything." She concluded. "That's why I told you to come here. I am very glad you did." She put on her glasses again to write something down. "I know you still don't want to talk to me and that's fine. But you need to start somewhere and talk to someone. There is a meeting tomorrow night," She ripped the paper and reached it out towards Dan. "I urge you to go."
"What kind of meeting?" Dan hissed in question.
"A support group for people who have gone through what you have gone through." She explained, she holding out the paper to Dan.
"No interested." Dan growled, standing and moving towards the door.
"You can't leave until I say so." She barked at him with the paper still outstretched. Dan exhaled and turned back, taking the scrap of paper in on fluent motion. He turned on his heel without breaking stride and opened the door. She let him go, knowing he was intrigued and would be back.
He trotted down the hallway and stuffed the paper into his pocket then took out his phone and bumped into someone, dropping his phone in the process.
"Hey watch where-" He stopped to look in blue eyes that he had had trouble forgetting about over the past two months. Phil looked back with the same awe and wonder into Dan's brown eyes. "Sorry," Dan mumbled picking up his phone. "That was my fault." Phil shook his head violently and pointed to himself. "No, it's mine." Dan insisted. "Say, are you a mime?" He asked, intrigued by the handsome man's lack of voice. Phil went red then rushed past Dan. "Hey, wait!" Dan called after him. But Phil was fast and by the time Dan saw him again, it was outside and Phil was too far down the street to meet up again with. "Fucking hell." Dan wheezed. "I need to lay off the donuts." Then he began a coughing attack, which ended with black phlegm escaping his lips. "And cigarettes." He concluded while standing straight again, spitting out the rest of it. He lit another cigarette on the way home anyways. But he didn't turn up his collar, he was too distracted, thinking about the blue-eyed mime.