The Alpha's Stolen Mate

Chapter 2 - I need my head read

Thud, thud, thud.

My eyelids feel like they're filled with lead as the struggle to wake up reaches a new level. The pounding in my head has reached the point where it sounds like it's reverberating around the room.

Thud, thud, thud.

It's getting louder. Using the back of my hand, I try to rub the heaviness and sleep from my eyes. The rubbing feels soothing on my aching forehead and pounding temples so I turn my attention to massaging the thudding away.

Thud, thud, thud.

"Kat! Are you there? Open the door! We're going to be late!" The familiar male voice yelled out from behind my front door. Oh great David's here.

I sit bolt upright in bed and throw the covers aside. The chill in the air prickles my exposed skin and I scan the room for my dressing gown. Spotting it across the room on the armchair, I leap out of bed and navigate the minefield of clutter covering the floor.

"Coming" I call out, throwing my dressing gown on while attempting to turn the bird's nest on my head into something more presentable.

One lock, two locks, three locks and four. I fumble with each one before turning the knob and standing aside for David to enter. He looks me up and down with judgement in his eyes, leaning down to kiss me lightly on the cheek.

"You look like s**t" he says heading straight to kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle and grabbing a couple of coffee mugs from the drying rack.

"Thanks" I mumble and head off to the bathroom for a quick shower and to get ready for my psychiatrist appointment. As hard as I try, the hot water doesn't wash away the anxiety I always seem to feel just before a visit to Dr Whittaker. She always pokes and prods my memories, leaving me so drained and disappointed. Technically, I've known Brenda longer than anyone else but with only eleven months of memory to look back on I have nothing to compare my anxiety level with.

Dark brown eyes stared back at me from my mirror. The darkness under them highlighted by the pale complexion of my face. I wondered if this was what I always looked like. Combing out the knots my soft brown curls always managed to get, I could hear David clanging dishes in the next room. He must be doing the dishes I thought, cringing at the memory of how messy I left it before I went to work the day before.

"You don't have to do that" I said, grabbing the luke warm coffee of the bench and skulling it down.

"My OCD made me do it." His broad Scottish accent made it hard to understand what he said, so I just smiled.

"Okay, I'm ready." I grabbed my bag, locked up the house, checked the locks three times and followed David to his car. The drive to the hospital was quiet. David had become accustomed to my silence every time he drove me to my appointments, so he left me with my thoughts for the half an hour it took to get to the hospital.

I could feel my heart start to race as the impressive heritage entrance to the hospital rose above the horizon and into view. The tall white columns framing the doorway were leaning towards each other, threatening to crumble at any given moment. I hastened my pace, nearly running into the delayed automatic doors, and entered the lobby.

"My shift is about to start" David said from behind. "Amyleigh should be here to pick you up in a about an hour."

"Thanks, I'll see you after work." I offered him my cheek for the customary farewell kiss then headed towards the lift. Good old David. He was so sweet and thoughtful, like an old man in a twenty five year old body. The clangs of metal and whirring of gears announced the arrival of the lift.

"Number two please." I made my way to the back of the lift, my eyes trained to the floor, and waited for the insanely slow lift to close its doors and start to move. I'd learnt over the last eleven months that people don't ask questions I don't have answers for, if I don't make eye contact. Not a great habit to get into when your social circle is enemic. Baby steps was all I can handle right now. After what seemed like an eternity, the doors clanged open and I headed down the hall to Dr Whittaker's office.

"Good morning Miss Lawson" the perky blonde receptionist greeted me.

I smiled, grabbed a magazine from the table and sat down in the waiting room. I couldn't for the life of me remember the perky blonde's name, but then again I couldn't even remember my birthday. I vacantly flipped through the pages trying to control my breathing, occasionally wiping the sweat from my clammy hands on my jeans.

"Katarina Lawson?" Dr Whittaker's voice had a ring of doubt attached to it like she wasn't expecting me to actually turn up. I don't blame her. Our last session ended with overture to violence.A forced smile crossed her weather worn features when I stood up and walked past her into her office. Now you would expect a psychiatrist's office to have the standard desk, chair and customary lounge to lay on but Brenda's office was bright and cheery. Almost like a preschool play room. Yellows, greens and blues dominated the furniture and artworks. A body length yellow beanbag lay opposite a small blue one. I dumped my bag near the door and slumped down on my side into the yellow softness and propped my head up with my hand.

"Morning Katarina, how are we feeling today?" Dr Whittaker sank down into her own beanbag with a remote control in one hand and a tape recorder in the other.

"As good as can be expected" I replied, anticipation rising up within.My eyes never left the hand holding the remote. I knew what was coming and that frightened me.

"Shall we begin?" It sounded like she was giving me a choice, but I knew she wasn't.

"I suppose." I reluctantly agreed as her fingers found the record button on one side and her hand pointed the remote at the stereo in the corner of the room.

Here we go again.