Yours Truly
Grace sat down, and gestured for Adam to do the same. As he shut her door, he noticed her name on the door.
Dr Grace Fielding Ph.D
Usually, little things like that would go by the agent in a blur, a hazy moment. The whirr of the coffee maker, in the corner of Grace's office took his attention next. Then, a soft, mid-afternoon sun ray peeked out, from a blind on the window. Everything was going in slow motion, Adam just about caught Grace talking to him.
"Hm?"
Grace picked up a small grey cup, and held it out, toward him, repeating her question.
"Would you like a coffee, Mr Jensen?"
Adam blinked a few times, withdrew his shades, and nodded.
"Strong, one sugar. And it's Adam."
"Okay Adam."
As Grace made his coffee, she felt happy that he had retracted his shades. It felt a tad alien to speak to someone, when you couldn't see their eyes, gauge their reaction to what you were saying. The swirling green and yellow orbs gave away a lot more than he intended. He was suffering, that much was obvious.
But, admitting it? That would take time, if he ever did.
"Here." Grace handed him the cup, and sat down in front of him. "Were you informed as to why you are here?"
Adam sipped some of the red hot coffee, and made a face.
"Yeah. Sarif wants me to bare my soul. Not happening."
Grace tilted her head.
"Then why are you here?"
Adam swallowed a groan.
"Because I need to bear it. Doc..."
Grace waved a hand.
"It's Grace, please. I won't make you talk. That wouldn't be fair. I want you to do it, on your own merit."
He smirked.
"Really read the 'Psychology 101 manual' huh."
Grace chuckled quietly.
"The entire thing. I can quote it, word from word, if you wish."
Adam fought the urge to crack a smile. Grace was on the ball, he had to admit. And he appreciated that she wasn't going to force him to talk about it.
"I'll pass, doc."
Grace shook her head, and laughed.
"I was told you'd be stubborn. That is fine however, for now."
The change in her voice confused him for a second, before his C.A.S.I.E aug registered a large surge in alpha brainwaves.
She'd like to think she'd backed me into a corner, but, I'm not having any of that.
She continued.
"Think of this me as an acquaintance, if that helps. I find getting to know someone, before trying to help unravel whatever is afflicting them can help, dramatically. I apologise if I made you flinch."
He did flinch, and she saw that.
Shit.
Adam grunted.
"Look. Doc, I don't need to be spoken too, like I am a belligerent asshole."
Grace called his bluff.
"Then don't act like one, and I won't have too."
Adam would have retorted, had he not slipped into yet another memory daze.
A man, cowering, in the corner, of a darkened room.
The clock struck midnight, and the man looks at it.
All that can be heard is tick tock, tick tock...
...Tick.
Adam realises the man is him.
..Tock.
He gasps, and shuts his eyes.
When he opened them, he is on the floor, in the same position as this 'memory' of himself.
He felt trapped, constricted by his own mind. Thousands died by his actions...
...But, millions survived. Shouldn't he feel better about that? That should placate the man, but, it didn't.
Every time he tried to seek help, his voice would break, his 'false' limbs would shake, and his will would shatter.
He couldn't breathe. It felt like someone had shoved his head under freezing cold water. The cold would take his breath away, and thus, he'd open his mouth, and the water would invade it. He'd choke, feel like he was about to vomit, but nothing would come out.
All that would happen is dry retching, leaving his throat burning, convulsing.
Coughing alerted Grace, and she jumped. She grabbed a plastic cup, and filled it with some water. She put a tentative hand on Adam's shoulder, and handed him the cup. He drank all of the cool beverage in one gulp.
The doctor looked at the clock on the wall.
Fifteen minutes.
They'd only been there for fifteen minutes, before Adam had retreated into a dark part of his mind. Grace knew this, from the troubled furrowing of his dark brows, and the grimace on his lips.
The doctor decided to wait it out, and sipped some of her lukewarm coffee. Her practise bought the really cheap coffee, that most people struggled to swallow, without gagging. She swallowed some of it, and pursed her lips in disgust.
She grabbed her interactive notepad, and pen, and began writing on it, leaving Adam, regressing.
Patient: Adam Jensen
Referral : David Sarif CEO (Urgent case)
Workplace: Sarif Industries
DOB: March 9th, 1993
Patient is distant, in a highly regressive state. Unwilling to talk about much of the ordeals he has been through. Troubled character, quiet, a little anger tinges his attitude. To be expected. In the space of fifteen minutes, no progress made. However, as this is his first, and I hope, not last appointment, I remain positive, that I may be able to assist his recovery. In retrospect, I cannot say much more than that.
Grace put the pad down, and noted that Adam no longer looked confused. He looked sad, emotional.
He was about to cry, and that increased her stress level. David had said that Adam would be a tough nut to crack, but, this. This was far beyond anything she had ever seen before. The man was crumbling in front of her...
...and all she could do, was watch on, helplessly.
The agent shot up from his seat, grunted and left the room, hurriedly. Grace sighed, and picked up her pad.
She scrolled down the list of email addresses she had, and stopped, when she saw Sarif's.
She wasn't quite sure what to write, but, she knew she had to write something. He would want to know what happened, in their first session.
Mr Sarif.
This is Grace Fielding. I regret to inform you that Adam may not be coming back here. His state of mind is questionable. And I fear if I cannot get through, he may well be sectioned. I, and I am sure that you, nor anyone at Sarif Industries would want that. Please, if you get the chance, could you speak with him?
Thanks,
Grace.