The Boy from the Past

Chapter 3 - Present day

Same day

The coffee is cold. I take a small sip and put it back on the desk. The steady sound of the old clock hanging over the rusty wall of Jason's office has been a peaceful companion. Watch hands marks exactly 3:00 pm. The documents of my new patient are neatly settled in front of me. I didn't read them. Because I already knew what was written in them. I readjust the papers again. My movements are slow and steady. Slow and steady. I don't let out the nervousness. I shouldn't.

Life is strange sometimes, who would have ever thought that one day I'll be meeting that one person I pledged to never see again. I take another sip and toss the paper glass in the dustbin.

A rush of voices outside confirms that the officers have arrived.

'Sara,' Harrold announced his presence, he looks exhausted, ultimately, he always looked exhausted, I wonder how I look. 'I see you have examined the files.' He waits for me at the door. 'Are we ready to leave?' I take a moment to consider if I should decline, after all this meeting was a last-minute thing. I could say I'm not prepared yet, although that would be extremely unprofessional, and I would have to give a proper explanation to him for my refusal, which was something I wanted to avoid as well, cause his penetrating eyes would find out something was wrong. I was never a great liar. I get up, with fake confidence. 'Yes, of course.'

We silently cover the distance from his office to the investigation room, the grim hallway, which fully resonates with my inner state. What a weird situation. I would lie if I said I never expected this to happen, somehow, I always wondered if I face him again. I had to be prepared, especially in my job. But, honestly, the possibility of what was happening was so remote that it never crossed my mind.

Only in nightmares, maybe.

I was visibly edgy now. Stop it, Sara, it is improper to panic like this, I was a different person now, more confident, more secure, the inner turmoil I always carried with me was safely locked. I was not that stupid little girl anymore.

'John stays in with for security,' Harrold's voice brings me out of my sour thoughts. 'Usually, you don't put cops while I'm in.'

'For safety reasons and that's the normal procedure', he replies, and I smile inside at the irony. If I didn't know he was dangerous, who else will? 'And he has handcuffs as well,' he adds. 'It's not my first time dealing with criminals'.

'I know, but that's the code.' We reach the room; Harrold opens the door for both of us.

With one last sigh, I enter the room, the light is dim, as usual, bare walls, one table in the centre with two chairs on each side. In one corner there is sitting officer John, which I only know by sight, I give him a curt nod and sit on the opposite chair of the patient.

Sitting in that dark gloomy place, I realized, that how much I was in trouble. I was not ready for this. Not even a little bit, which was to some extent scary. But I had to do this, it was about my career, and to some extent about my life too. I had worked hard to get where I was now, to get a grip of my mental stability.

He ruined my past. I won't let him ruin my present too.

A rumble of sounds, means they are here. I let myself get busy with the papers in front of me. Criminal records, annotations from different police officers about his time period in jail, dates, places, testimonies. Again, the memories from the past flash in front of me. I need huge self-control to not cry and compose myself when I hear people entering the room. In my peripheral vision, I see a man, he walks within with his head down, wearing the stern uniform, that all the other prisoners wear. He sits with a soft thump on the front seat. I can't look properly at his face, and I don't want to look at him. In the dim light of the interrogation room, his hair looks darker, when I knew for a fact that, it was of soft light blond colour, I wish I didn't know that detail.

I take a deep calming breath, and the presence in the background of Harrold makes me more anxious, I discreetly take off my coat jacket because I know I'll start sweating cold anytime soon, it happens to me whenever I'm nervous.

'Mr Wolfe.' I say with as much authority I can manage. 'I'd like to have your attention, please.'

He remains still. Silent.

At this point, I should have introduced myself. But I decide to overlook that rule.

There was one important rule in my job, to never get close with patients, which sometimes a few don't follow. But my situation was completely different, I wasn't transgressing rules. I was just in a very unfortunate situation.

Too many feelings were swirling in my mind for me to make coherent thoughts. And I found myself staring at him, and realizing he was still as handsome as before. I was always struck by this detail. Even before it was what most attracted me and repulsed me in the same way. The time in jail and the years had marked his face, now more visible, as my eyes adjusted to the low light. I tug of pain grips my heart, but I choose to ignore it.  'Your time period is over in jail; you must be feeling relieved?' I speak.

'I guess,' he finally speaks.

At least he spoke. I thought the cat got his tongue. I wipe a bead of sweat on my forehead, I was falling in pieces.

'Well, Mr Wolfe,' I say looking directly to him. My eyes are pieces of glass, clear and limpid. 'You should be happy to be getting free after eight years of jail.'

'Hm.' He just shrugs his shoulder.

'There is anything you want to tell about your therapies with your previous doctor?' I look distracted at the papers 'Doctor Denials.'

'Hmm,' another non-caring shrug. Was he doing this on purpose?

' You do realize you are supposed to talk here,' I add irritably.

His shoulders are a lump, and his eyes are downcast.

'I'm sorry, it’s just everything happened so fast, I didn't think I would be out.' He says in a low voice.

When he looks up, I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with my own self, before him. We both look at each other in awkward silence. Did he recognize me? If he did, he was good at hiding it, because his face doesn't show a sign of recognition.

I couldn't blame him for not recognizing me though, my physical appearance was very changed now from how I used to look. The biggest difference was probably my hair, I changed my hair colour three years ago, I wanted to look different from the girl in my memory, who had made the mistake to fall in love with the wrong person. I wanted so desperately to be different from her, maybe because I still felt her so much present, especially now. I wish he knew. I keep my eyes steady on the wall behind him. There was no point looking back at his eyes. He looked in pain, just like I was

'You have passed your last years in a rehabilitation house. How was your experience there?' No answer.

'Your personal doctor's report shows a lot of positive comments, you had a good relationship with your doctor?'

No answer. I sigh.

'Mr Wolfe, do you realize I'm here to determine whether you are mentally stable enough to be out. It's in your interest to talk if you don't answer, I'll have to conclude'.

He finally looks a little moved by my words.

'The rehabilitation house was a nice place, better than prison, at least, they treat us good there. People like us, the crazy ones. And yeah, the doc was good too, I never thought he would be so impressed with me to let me go, usually, that never happens...', he looks at me, hesitates like he wants to say more. But he diverts his eyes again. He gulps before speaking, 'Yes, it was a nice experience.' It was not a nice experience.

And it's your fault, that's probably what he wants to say.

It's your fault, that I had to suffer, those were probably the words he stopped.

I can't take it anymore; my mind will explode if I would have stayed there another second. Just a few more questions and I would be out of here, I won't have to see his face again that brought so many memories and pain back.

'How are you feeling currently?' I ask with unbearable pain in my head.

'I'm feeling well, thank you,' he answers me with a slight nudge of his head. I nod and tick the square on my page.

'You have stopped your medications two weeks ago?' I ask reading this detail from his medical report.

'Yes, the doctor said I didn't need it anymore.' I say back.

'Very well.' I reply.

'Thanks 'mam,' he says again, and this time I am not able to decipher the tone in his voice. I put some more ticks in the right place that would be his ticket to the world outside.

'Very well, Mr Wolfe, I wish you a happy bailout', and with those words, I gather my papers, with a sign of my head I let the cop sitting behind me know that I finished. He accompanies me out. I don't look behind and walk confident like I have everything in control, but, I was falling in pieces, torn piece by piece. The officer asks me if I want to handle the documents, and I'm relieved to give them to him, I put my signature in the opposite place, my mind is in a blur, he says something, but I can't hear him, I just murmur a goodbye and get hurriedly out, the weather got worst now, heavy rain splashes on the concrete angrily, creating a thunder-like sound, I'm grateful to the rain as I walk to the car, It helps me distract from my frenzied heart. I get in the car and drive steadily toward my apartment, I remember remotely that I have some work to finish at the hospital, I'll call a sick leave later. When I'm finally home, I walk inside drenched, I don't switch on the light. I just sit there, on the floor in my drenched clothes and let the pain out.

 I let myself cry...