Cold

“Eventually all the thinking takes over and I’m sent into a sort of spiral. You know? I spiral into a kaleidoscope. It’s colorful but cold.” I pause to swallow. “It’s like I want to give up and just stay there for as long as possible. Maybe it’s self-pity. I want someone to see me in there through the keyhole. Locking myself in my room to sleep all day or acting out in anger seems a bit like teenage angst or stubbornness, but I promise you that’s not what this is. There’s just something magnetic about isolation, it’s easier, its addictive.” I study my palms, rubbing them slowly together. “There’s this conflict. The wanting people to care, but not for them to know. You don’t want them to pity you, but you do want them to listen. There’s a lack of understanding today. There’s a lack of interest in understanding.” “I’m more than interested Ronnie.” I don’t look up to see her fake smile. I keep my eyes on my hands in my lap. “So you’re feeling it again?” Dr. Rathmore sat in a white recliner across from the pastel blue couch I sat cross-legged on. White sunlight spills in through a lace curtain cover the large window behind her head. I assume the whole point of the decor is to comfort me with its soft colors and natural light. It all felt like a booby trap, like making a small movement would snap my neck. The glow of the room was a weight, pressuring me to speak, but every time I spoke I slipped further into unhuman. I wished for the glow to dim. I wished the sun would die and the room would go dark, so she couldn’t see me. She must of practiced that look. They must of taught her to do it in school, that far off look like she’s listening but completely disconnected. I ignored the rush of rage that took hold to the back of my tongue and instead stuttered out “Well I assume so, yes. It’s back”. “Would you like me to prescribe a higher dosage?” Rathmore flipped the papers on her clipboard a few times, clicking her pen as she gazed up at me patiently. I hadn’t been taking my pills in weeks, maybe months. I’d hold them in my mouth telling myself that it’s for the best just to swallow, but then just as fast I’d spit them out and flush them. I’d watch them spiral down to their death and imagine them dissolving in the pipes beneath me. “No, no. I’m comfortable with the current dosage.” I’m not an animal or a lunatic, I don’t need pills to sedate me.“Well okay.” Rathmore flipped through her papers once more and unclicked her pen. “Okay then let’s talk about this feeling, shall we?” she says with a grin. She must of practiced the grin too. The way her whitened teeth spread without her lips following their lead made her almost look rubber. Even if I knew it was forced, I still took comfort in pretending she meant it. Knowing what she meant by “feeling” I sighed to myself. “I fear that you’ll grow tired of what I’ve got to say now.” I unraveled my legs to set my heavy feet on the carpeted floor. I leaned forward slightly. I could see her flinch, almost microscopically. I noticed it, I don’t think she realized. “Do you ever get sick of me telling the same story?” “Never.” She gave me a smirk, and the fear I saw in her seemed to melt from her eyes. It was there and gone so fast I thought I might have imagined it. Instead I could see my small, puny reflection in her brown eyes mocking me. I leaned back on the couch with a sigh. She readjusted herself, smoothed her skirt, and took a deep breath as she laid her clipboard and pen on the side table to her right. I grinned when she said, “Well, I’d love to hear a new story”. She wasn’t scared anymore or she was just really good at hiding it. Either way I had no leverage. I was the trapped pest again. I didn’t want to talk about what I’d done, and I didn’t want to talk about how I felt when I did it.

“That’s okay.” I could tell she wanted to comfort me. Maybe touch me, but she sat so far away. It would take her leaning towards me, It would take putting herself close to me.

I wanted her to touch me. I hadn’t felt what it was like to be human in so long. Id been shut in a cage so long, I almost forgot I was human. “Do you still dream about her?” “All the time.” Everything floods back to me, it enters my veins with an icy burn. The image of her creeps over my spine, and leaks into my brain. It fills my mind with a fog, and she pulls me back into a daydream like a dog on a leash. “How does it feel?” Rathmore’s voice is calm, but there’s a lightness that’s unfamiliar to me. It holds a curiosity. She must think she’s getting closer to figuring me out. Where I would usually hesitate, my fogged conscious moves my mouth for me. “She took whoever I thought I was and threw it into the water. Now its dry and I can’t make out the shape of it.” I expected her to speak or roll her eyes at my dramatics, but she holds a steady gaze. I bring her back to a familiar story. “You know I used to sit in the blazing heat”. I paused looking down at the blister scars on my wrist and up my arms to my shoulder. We’ve talked about this before, and I remember her flinching when I rolled up my sleeve for the first time. The freckles, moles, and scars litter my skin like the explosion of a volcano burnt the surface of a beach’s sand. “I’d lay out by the swimming pool until my skin burned red and peeled.” Rathmore nodded. I continue in a low voice. “I still can’t figure out exactly why I did it. I was always freezing, always cold. Maybe I did it because I wanted to feel warm, or maybe just feel something, anything. Maybe I wanted to burn, catch fire where the ice wouldn’t melt.” I rolled my fingers across the pulse on my wrist. It was steady. “Picking the skin off the red patches felt closer to becoming a new person. Kind of like I was shedding my cocoon.” My voice shook at the end, and it takes me by surprise how true it was. My pulse quickens under my fingertips. I’ve said something that let her in, and it was terrifying. She was pulling off my skin. Rathmore goes to speak, but I cut her off. “I never wanted to do it.” “Do what?” “You know what.” I look at her hard and steady, almost angry. She doesn’t quiver when our eyes meet like I expected her too, like i’d like her too.“Ronnie I-”I raise my hand to stop her again. “I just wanted to know her.” I clutch my fists together. “Everyone describes love as warm. I wanted that, I want that. I thought she could make me warm.”When I look back into Rathmore’s eyes they are heavy with sympathy. It’s more than what I’ve ever asked from someone. For them just to feel something for me. Like never before I let her listen. Rathmore cuts through my thoughts with her light voice as she stutters. “That night. The night that it happened.” Knowing what she meant I speak again. I feel like my voice comes out as a whisper, but her eyes and the way she leans in tells me she hears me. “I took her out on a date. It was our third one. She even let me kiss her in my car.” I gulp. “When I told her I loved her she didn’t say it back.” When I think back to it the anger is gone, I’m only cold. “I was so angry that I hit her and kept hitting her. I couldn’t stop hitting her.” I dig my nails hard into my palms, I scratch at the scars on my wrists. When I look down at the cuts I made I expect to see blood, her blood splattered on my knuckles. Instead I only see my own, mocking me like the reflection in her irises did.Rathmore opens her mouth, but I don’t let her speak. “I killed her, but you already know that.” I don’t look up at Rathmore. “I cut her up into little pieces, I buried her, then I cleaned up the mess.” I look into Rathmore’s unwavering fierceness with courage. “I didn’t feel anything.” I can hear my voice crack. “Why didn’t I feel anything?” Even though we both know she shouldn’t, Rathmore leans forward to comfort me. Before she can touch my knee someone opens the door.“Alright, Ron times up.” Says a heavy, booming voice that pulls Rathmore’s hand back into her lap. Sergeant Gill stays in the doorway as I rise. Letting the usual two young cops come up behind to detain me. “Thank you, Dr. Rathmore for your time. I’m sorry if he was difficult.”Rathmore waves her hand. “Oh no no, Ronnie is always a pleasure.” She smiles at me. “We’ve made some good breakthrough today, right Ronnie?”Embarrassed I dry my eyes on my shoulder. I look at Rathmore one last time on my way out. She’s watching me as I leave. Our eyes meet, And I feel warm.