Iniquity: Book One

Chapter Seven

My entire body was soaked with sweat. I was breathing fast and hard and my head hurt even worse than yesterday. Tony was propped up on his elbow, watching me intently. I looked at my friend in the afternoon light as I began to cry. He pulled me close.

“Bad one?” he whispered.

I was shaking like a leaf. “Very.”

“What happened?”

The words were hard to form. “Tony. He got me.”

“Got you?”

“He killed me Tony,” I whispered.

His embrace tightened. “How?”

Then I told him about my experience at the lake. I told him every detail and watched him as he took it in. He was silent as I spoke. I imagine this was overwhelming to him.

“You’ll be okay. We need to get you to the shrink. She will help you sort this out. I promise.”

“God, I hope so.” Then I smelled something.. Something good. “What’s that smell?”

Tony grinned. “While you were sleeping I made coffee and breakfast.”

“You are the absolute best friend ever.” He was. “I’m going to eat.”

I wasn’t about to let that bad dream get in the way of my hunger. I immediately head to the kitchen where a plate of scrambled eggs was waiting for me and a fresh cup of coffee. Tony followed me in and watched me eat.

“You know, that definitely isn’t very ladylike, Amb,” he said with a laugh while we sat across from each other at my kitchen table.

“What?” I asked with an overflowing mouthful of eggs and cheese.

He pointed at my mouth. “That.”

I smirked and continued eating. The eggs were heavenly. However, when I finished the eggs and some of the coffee I found that I was still very, very hungry. It was almost as if I had never even eaten at all. I wanted more.

Tony looked at me quizzically. “What’s wrong?” He frowned. “The eggs right? No bueno?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s not it. I’m just.. I have never been this hungry before.”

He laughed, his frown gone. “Ahh my cooking pleases you then.”

“I just need more.. Food.”

As fast as my feet would carry me I went to my fridge. My eyes scanned the shelves for anything edible. Anything quick. Something easy.. Something raw. I searched, my hands shaking, until I found the only thing my stomach wanted. My package of thick cut raw bacon. I grabbed it and tore the package open and inhaled the heavenly scent of the fresh meat.

Tony’s eyes widened. “You want me to cook that?”

I shook my head and started pulling out the thick strips of meat and pushing them into my mouth, one after another. It was like I wasn’t even chewing them. The meat felt good in my mouth. It felt right. I could taste the animal, the pig. The meat hit my stomach with satisfaction as such I have never experienced. Eating had never been this blissful. It was almost like having amazing orgasmic s*x with someone.

“So.. good.” Was all I could say after I polished off the package.

Tony’s jaw was almost on the floor. “Amber, I don’t think you can eat bacon like that. You might get..”

“I won’t get sick Tony.” Actually I didn’t know about that. I had just inhaled an entire package of raw meat.

“I have never, in all my life, seen anyone eat meat like.. that.” He chuckled to himself. “And let me assure you that I have seen quite the amount of people inhale meat.”

Leave it to Tony to turn this s****l. “I was just hungry,” I said with embarrassment. I could feel my face turn read. “Tell no one of this.”

He shook his head. “I can’t promise that.”

“Well I think I am going to take a shower, now that my stomach has stopped rumbling, and then I am going to call Sheryl and see if she can fit me in today.”

“Good. Watching you eat that meat made me hungry, so I am going to head out and grab breakfast.”

“Didn’t you cook anything for yourself?” I looked at the stove and saw the skilled was bare. He had just cooked for me.

He shook his head. “Nah, just you.” He got up, gave me a hug, and headed to the door. “Please call me if you need anything. Sheryl can do walkins, so she should be able to fit you in today.”

“Thanks Tony!”

*

I ventured to my closet and selected a pair of black sweat shorts and a white spaghetti strap top. I wasn’t in the mood to dress to impress. I took my clothes to the bathroom and stripped out of the sweats I still had on from the accident. Looking at myself in the mirror was quite the rude awakening indeed. I noticed the bruises right away, purple and angry looking. My right hip had two baseball sized beauties staring at me angrily. I let out a heavy sigh and started the water in the shower.

The steamy hot water from the shower felt so good. I didn’t want to take a bath, especially after what had happened last time I dared slip into my porcelain tub. Shower it is. There was no f*****g way I was going to be taking a bath in the near future. I washed off all the dirt and dried blood that was on my skin and inhaled the steam. I left the shower, toweled off, and stood in front of the mirror. It’s crazy how much head wounds bleed. I looked at the little wound on the top right of my forehead and frowned. All bark and no bite. It was a little thing.

After getting dressed I noticed that it was sunny outside. There was no trace of the storm that tormented the area. It was gone, to be replaced by a highly unnatural sunny sky. That was something you didn’t see every day in the Seattle area. There was also no exploding soda bottles, lurking werewolves, and anything killing me. It looked like it was going to be a good day. However, we know what happens when I think it’s going to be a good day. The day tends to go to s**t. I stood by my back patio door and stared at the sky. It was truly beautiful. All good things come to an end, as I found when this moment of serenity was interrupted by my phone letting me know that there was a new voicemail.

It was Sheryl.

The first thing I noticed was the accent. What was with everyone and accents lately? There was that doctor at the emergency room and now Sheryl. Her voice reminded me of how Sigmund Freud sounded. Austrian or something like that. It was deep too. It sounded like she smoked a lot. She said that Tony had told her what had “transpired”, as she put it, last night and she wanted to see me today. I was grateful. She sounded smart. Hopefully she could decode my dreams and maybe, just maybe, help me understand why the f**k they want to kill me. She ordered me to call as soon as possible. So I did.

“This is Doctor Steiner,” she said in that smokey voice.

I pictured her on the other end with a cigarette in her mouth. “This is Amber.. Amber Black.”

Pleasure reflected in her voice. “I am so glad you called me right away. I respect punctuality.”

“Thanks you Doctor..”

“Please,” she chimed in, “Please call me Sheryl.”

“Thank you Sheryl.” She sounded friendly enough.

“You are very welcome,” she replied, with her “w” in the word welcome sounding like a v. I almost laughed. Almost. “How are you? Are you okay? I heard about these dreams.” I didn’t mention the bacon incident in my kitchen.

I started shaking. I hated talking about them. “I am holding up. I have been better, that’s for sure.

There was a long pause before she answered. “I want to see you as soon as possible.”

“Now?”

“Yes, please.”

I really didn’t have anything going on today except for more editing of the wedding photos. I wasn’t looking forward to that. Maybe I would feel comfortable enough to edit the photos after a little dose of therapy.

“I can do that,” I said.

“A simple yes or no will suffice.” She almost snapped at me.

Wait, did she snap at me?

She caught me totally off guard. “Yes. I will be there.” I suddenly felt like a scolded child.

“Great. I shall expect you momentarily then. Have a good day.”

Click.

Wow.

Please see: Snooty Shrink.

What was I getting myself into, was what I pondered as I fed my cat and grabbed my clutch and keys. What a truly odd woman. Tony did say she was nice though. I at least owed it to him to give her a try.

*

Sheryl Steiner had an office in downtown Everett and it was nothing like I expected it to be. I guess I was honestly expecting to smell leather, see a waiting room full of couches and plants and of course those cheap and cliche posters that say things like, “Strength”, or, “Courage”, followed by some choice words of wisdom, accompanied by some stock photos from the Internet. It wasn’t like that at all. For one, the receptionist, a young Asian man with spiky frosted blonde tipped hair, looked entirely out of place behind the desk. He didn’t have anything professional on, just some jeans and an old Ramones shirt on. Wow. The wood desk he sat behind was also massive, almost too big for the waiting room. It was definitely the focal point for your attention when you walked in. Then your attention went to the posters on the wall. Warhol. I never expected to see Andy Warhol posters in a shrink’s office. The couches too were unexpected and looked like they were from Ikea. They were modern, black, and leather. All of it gave a very hip feel to the atmosphere. Except for the desk. The desk just didn’t belong there.

The receptionist/secretary/boytoy, whatever you wanted to call him, looked up when I entered. “Ahh, you must be Ms. Black.”

“Yes,” was all I could muster. Still in shock from the decor.

He smiled warmly. “You can enter. Sheryl is expecting you.” So, he called her Sheryl as well. This definitely wasn’t the professional environment I expected it to be.

Something about him bothered me. His smile seemed too fake. Maybe he was just having a bad day. That was entirely possible. Try having a bad month, I thought as I returned his smile and headed toward the black double doors at the far end of the room.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I passed him.

My words went unacknowledged. He had already resumed playing with his phone. I brushed that off and turned the handle of one of the doors and entered Sheryl’s office.

Upon entering the inner sanctum of Doctor Sheryl Steiner I noticed the doctor herself. She was wearing a smart pair of black slacks and matching pumps with red bottoms. I was jealous. They looked expensive as hell. She also had on a white blouse tucked in and she was on the phone facing a large window that looked down on the street from the second story we were on. She knew I had entered because she held up her free hand with her index finger up indicating she would be with me soon. So, there I stood, a good little nutty patient, like a child in the principal’s office. Thankfully her office definitely fit the bill of being decorated as I would expect a psychiatrist’s to be. This was such a polar opposite from the waiting room. Here, there was a wall of books, a large leather couch to lay on while being analyzed, a couch you could not help but have s****l thoughts about, and some really pricey Tiffany looking lamps. There was dark polished wood everywhere. The whole room smelled expensive.

Her desk was in the corner by the window overlooking the street and the couch on the opposite corner. Before the desk were two chairs. Sheryl’s own chair looked like a throne. She must look so small in it, with her being only about five foot four sans those five inch heels. However, from only knowing her on the phone I knew her personality made up for what she lacked in height.

She was commanding in presence. I took a seat in front of the desk. I could smell her perfume. She smelled amazing. She turned her head and offered me a smile, the first tinge of warmness I have felt from the woman. It only comforted me slightly.

“It is most likely caligynephobia,” Sheryl said in a dry voice. “He is simply afraid to be around beautiful women.” She tapped one toe of her heels on the hardwood floor. “I could treat him.”

I continued to patiently wait with butterflies swirling in my gut. She was booking an appointment with some guy afraid of hot women. Sheryl definitely was not bad looking. She was entirely the opposite. She had a very mature and sexy look about her. I found myself wondering if she could treat the man with that phobia. As I continued to wait I found my eyes wandering about the room. My focus gravitated to the wall of books behind the couch to the left of the window. So many books.

What I saw on those shelves made my eyes grow wide with horror.