Missed Encounters

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Chapter 4

The Final Encounter

Wendy didn’t flinch as Professor Layton Wells caressed a strand of frizzled brown-hair behind her ear. She would have preferred to do it herself, not that she objected to the Doctor’s touch, but to have her arms free from their restraints would be nice. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. She might hurt herself again and they wouldn’t allow that. So, instead the kind Doctor Wells does it for her. Though this time seemed different. He seemed sad to her.

“Oh, my beautiful Wendy,” Wells whispered softly to her, careful to not let anyone who is monitoring her room to hear. “Your hair, once like silk, now matted and grotesque.”

His words sting the disheveled young woman, but she knew them to be true. Her hair was quite the mess. If she would have been allowed a brush she’d make it nice and pretty for him. But she’d probably try and swallow it--

--Like last time.

To make up for her hair, she flashed a smile at the Doctor. She knew since their first session that he loved seeing her dimples. So, she always made it a point to smile at him.

“There’s my beautiful young woman,” Wells breathed with a smile. Wendy knew he meant it too. Since they first met all that time ago, he’s never once failed to tell her she’s beautiful during their sessions. This always made her feel special. That Doctor Wells and her had a connection, that they were meant to be together. She always longed to tell him that. But she never will. She wouldn’t dare say a word to him. Or anyone else for that matter.

Not since that night the monster killed her mommy and daddy and told her never to speak again or he would do the same to her.

And so she hasn’t.

Not a single word for nearly twenty years.

Wells knelt there in silence, staring at the nearly comatose Wendy, his gaze darting back and forth from her one lifeless eye to the other. He straightened back up, his stare unwavering from the smiling woman in the straightjacket.

From all their previous sessions, Wendy was always impressed with how tall Doctor Wells was.

Though she would never do it, if she were to say anything, it would be to tell him how handsome he was. She often wondered if maybe in another life they could have ended up together.

“Goodbye, Wendy,” Wells said softly.

Wendy watched as he left her room, the padded door sliding shut behind him. She caught one final glance of his beautiful face when he peered back through the small glass window on her door. She knew this was the last time she would ever see him again. She longed to yell for him, but she didn’t.

The monster might hear her.

Wells turned away from his once beautiful Wendy and was met by a young brown-haired woman with her hand stretched out to shake his. She introduced herself as Doctor Emily Rose and said she was Wendy’s new primary psychiatrist.

Wells smile stretched nearly from one ear to the other as he gripped her hand, admiring her beauty.

Emily’s eyes caught sight of Wells’ watch and she said, “That’s an interesting timepiece. Never seen one quite like it before.”

“I made this to commemorate my discovery of the Wells-Chrono Particle,” he explained. “There’s not one like it anywhere else in the world.”

“Genius physicist, psychiatrist, and craftsman to boot!” She gushed. “Quite the renaissance man, aren’t you Doctor Wells?”

“Please, call me Layton.” Wells suggested.

“All right.” She said with a smile, turning to peer through the small window of Wendy’s cell. “So, what can you tell me about patient eight, eighty-three?”

“Wendy Sharp,” he clarified. “Quite the special girl that one. Hasn’t said a single word since her parents were tragically murdered in front of her when she was six.”

“Oh, dear.” Emily gasped. “And your recommended treatment.”

“The utmost care,” he said with a smile. “But I would love to give you my insight at a much more personal venue.” Wells waited for her eyes to meet his and said, “Dinner, tonight?”

Emily smiled with embarrassment and said, “I’m flattered, but I have a husband.”

“Oh,” Wells uttered turning his gaze back to Wendy in her cell.

“What’s his name?”

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