Chapter Four

                                    

                                          
Emma 
I can't stop thinking about what he said.
The cafeteria is bustling with the usual midday crowd, a mix of staff and visitors all talking, laughing, eating. The noise is a comforting hum that usually helps me unwind between sessions, but today it feels distant, almost muted, like I'm hearing it through water. I stare at my salad, the greens and tomatoes and crumbled feta blurred into a smear of colours. My mind is elsewhere—back in that room, back with Alex.
"I fucked my fist, thinking about you."
His words replay in my mind, over and over again, each time sending a shiver through me. I've dealt with my share of disturbed individuals over the years, patients whose minds were twisted and dark, but none of them have ever gotten to me like this. None of them have ever spoken to me like Alex does, with that unnerving calmness, that dark gleam in his eyes.
"I coated my hand with my own blood... made it nice and slick."
I can't help but feel a flush of heat crawl up my neck, my skin prickling with an odd mix of disgust and something else. Something I don't want to admit to myself. I shake my head, trying to clear the image from my mind, but it's there, lodged deep in my brain like a splinter I can't remove. His voice, his eyes, his words—they haunt me, even now, hours after our last meeting.
"Emma?"
I blink, pulled abruptly from my thoughts. Bethany is sitting across from me, her brow furrowed in concern. I hadn't even noticed her sit down, hadn't heard her greeting or her question—whatever it was. I force a smile, pushing the thoughts of Alex back into the dark corners of my mind where they belong. "Sorry, what did you say?"
Bethany gives me a skeptical look, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. She's been my friend for years, ever since we started working together at the hospital, and she knows me better than most. "I asked if you're okay," she says, lowering her fork. "You seemed... out of it."
I shake my head, trying to sound casual. "I'm fine, just a little tired."
Bethany's eyes narrow slightly, her gaze sharpening. "Is it because of him?"
I know who she's talking about, but I pretend I don't. "Who?"
"Alex Graves," she says, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. "You've been different since you started working with him. I can see it."
I force a laugh, though it feels strained. "I'm fine, really. It's just... he's a difficult case. That's all."
Bethany sets her fork down, leaning forward slightly, her expression serious. "Emma, I've known you for a long time. You're the best psychiatrist we have, and you've handled some pretty messed up people. But this guy... he's different. I've seen the way he looks at you."
I feel a chill run down my spine, but I try to ignore it. "It's part of his manipulation. He wants to get under my skin, to make me uncomfortable."
"Well, he's doing a damn good job," Bethany says, her eyes narrowing. "You look drained, like you haven't slept in days. And you're the only one who's lasted more than one session with him."
"I'm fine," I say again, trying to sound convincing. "Really. I can handle it."
Bethany shakes her head, clearly not buying it. "Look, I know you're tough, but this guy is vicious, Emma. The things he's done... He's not like the others. He's not just sick. He's dangerous."
I nod, taking a sip of my water to buy myself a moment. "I know. But I think I'm getting through to him. I think there's more to him than what's in his file."