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."
Bethany lets out a dry laugh. "More? Emma, he's a psychopath. A killer. What more could there be?"
I don't know how to answer that. I don't even know if I believe what I'm saying. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about him, about what he said, about the way he looked at me. There was something in his eyes, something almost... hungry.
"I think there's something in him worth saving," I say finally, though even as the words leave my mouth, I'm not sure I believe them.
Bethany gives me a long, hard look, then shakes her head. "You always want to save everyone, Emma. But some people can't be saved. Some people don't want to be saved."
"I know that," I say softly, but my voice lacks conviction.
Bethany reaches across the table, her hand covering mine, her touch warm and reassuring. "Just... be careful, okay? I've seen what that man is capable of. I don't want to see him get to you."
I nod, squeezing her hand in return. "I will. I promise."
But even as I say the words, I feel a strange, creeping doubt. I want to believe I'm strong enough to handle him, that I'm in control. But every time I sit across from him, every time I feel his eyes on me, I'm not so sure.
Bethany gives me a small smile and lets go of my hand, picking up her fork again. "So, how's everything else going? Any plans for the weekend?"
I take a deep breath, grateful for the change of topic. "Not really. I might just stay in, catch up on some reading."
Bethany grins. "Let me guess, more psychology books? You need to take a break, Emma. Do something fun for a change."
I manage a small smile. "Maybe. We'll see."
We fall into an easier conversation after that, talking about work, about the latest gossip from the hospital. I try to focus, to stay present, but my mind keeps drifting back to Alex, to his voice, his words. The way he described what he did after our first meeting.
"I cut myself first... just a little slice, enough to draw blood."
I shiver, my appetite gone. I push my salad away, folding my hands in my lap. I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my leg, his fingers sliding up my thigh, his voice low and dark, whispering in my ear.
"Made it nice and slick."
Bethany's voice pulls me back again. "Emma? Are you sure you're okay?"
I blink, nodding quickly. "Yeah, sorry. Just... lost in thought."
She frowns, her concern deepening. "If you need to talk, you know I'm here, right?"
I nod, forcing a smile. "I know. Thanks, Bethany."
She studies me for a moment longer, then nods, her expression softening. "Okay. But seriously, take care of yourself. Don't let him get into your head."
Too late, I think, but I don't say it. Instead, I nod again, picking up my water and taking a long sip, hoping to wash away the taste of his words, the image of his bloodied fist.
Bethany continues talking, but her words fade into the background as my mind drifts back to Alex, back to the way he looked at me during our last meeting. The way he seemed to see right through me, like he could see into the darkest parts of my mind, the parts I try to keep hidden, even from myself.
"I masturbated, Emma. I fucked my fist, thinking about you."
"I coated my hand with my own blood... made it nice and slick."
The image is burned into my mind, vivid and grotesque. I can't shake it, can't stop thinking about it. About him. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to push the thoughts away, to focus on Bethany's voice, but it's no use. He's there, in my head, his words echoing, taunting.
When I open my eyes, I realise Bethany has asked me a question, and I have no idea what she said. "Sorry, what?"
She sighs, setting down her fork. "I said, are you sure you're up for this? For working with him?"
I nod, though the truth is I'm not sure. I don't know if I'm up for it, if I'm strong enough to face him again, to sit across from him and pretend I'm not affected by his words, his presence. But I have to be. I have to see this through. "I'm fine," I say, more firmly this time. "I can handle it."
Bethany doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push it. "Just... be careful, okay?"
"I will," I promise again, but the words feel hollow, even to me.
We finish our lunch in relative silence, the easy banter of before replaced by a heavy, lingering tension. When we finally get up to leave, Bethany gives me a long, hard look. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."
"I promise," I say, forcing a smile.
But as I watch her walk away, I feel a knot of dread tighten in my stomach. I know she's right. I know I should be careful.
But there's something about Alex, something I can't shake. And I don't know if I want to.