He grinned. "You didn't need to tell me. I already knew."
Dismissing her as she sat in shocked silence, he returned his attention to the food, pulling the meat from the grill to place it on a plate on the counter. Alice watched the meat bleed onto the plate, crimson red dripping down into rivulets that ran the white porcelain.
"We should eat," he said, busying himself with the steamed vegetables.
"I'm not hungry."
"You will be," he responded. Casting her a taunting glance, he nodded towards a doorway behind her. "The dining room is through there. I expect to find you seated at the table. I’ll unlock your cuffs if you promise to behave."
She didn't move. It wasn't in her to obey, to easily submit to a man she didn't know. "And if I don’t?"
Without speaking he turned to look at her, a single amused brow lifted in question. After they held each other's stare for several seconds, his gaze slowly traveled to the television screen.
It was all the answer Alice needed.
12:30 p.m.
Gray walls.
Black table.
Plastic, fake red roses.
Everything in place.
"Alice? ... Ms. Beaumont? ... Alice Beaumont..."
"Yes, Doctor."
Five steps across the room, three steps over the soft, patterned carpet. Four cushions. A white throw draped loosely over the armrest.
Alice lowered herself to sit on the couch, clutched a pillow to her chest, and raised her eyes to look at the doctor.
He stared at her, his posture rigid on the chair, his notepad left sitting on the table to his side.
"How are you today?"
She didn't like that he hadn't assumed his typical, relaxed position. Where was his pen? Why did the environment feel different?
"Better?" she guessed, uncomfortable in the doctor's presence. "I think."
Had she given him the answer he sought?
Her pulse ticked in time with the clock, her eyes scanning the room in search for anything that would explain the doctor's strange demeanor.
Nothing was out of place, even the dripping faucet still beat down upon the sink with the same rhythm as usual. But beyond those hallmarks of passing time, the silence between them was deafening.
"How has your daily life been, Alice? Have you been active in any hobbies recently? Have you been exercising or reading, by chance?"
She blinked. It was the only outward symptom of the surprise she felt at his questions. "No. At least, I don't think I have. Why?"
His unwavering attention made her nervous. More seconds ticked by, more rapid heartbeats pounding beneath her ribs. Having come to some unspoken conclusion, the doctor nodded once before sitting back in his chair to grab his notepad and pull it into his lap.
She released the breath from her lungs. The tension dissipated.
"You appear stronger today. I thought, perhaps, you'd become involved in a therapeutic activity. I assume from your answer that I was wrong to think that."
The room righted itself, the atmosphere returned to normal. She focused on his statement, his claim that, at least on the surface, she appeared stronger.
"You seemed different to me for a minute there. Rigid and -" Her voice trailed off, barely a whisper when she added, "I don't know. Just different."
He studied her; the way his eyes locked to every movement of her lips, to her posture and the small tics of her muscles unnerving her more than most days.
“Perhaps you’re becoming more aware of yourself. Of your surroundings. At every session we’ve had, you’ve been closed in and cut off. A world exists around you, Alice, yet it seems you’ve locked yourself inside a small, sheltered box.”
She hadn’t locked herself anywhere. It had been life that shoved her inside herself and threw away the key.
Wanting to return to the only thing that was important, Alice ignored his statement. “He called me a fighter.” It wasn’t until she’d spoken the words that she understood how they were in complete opposition to what the doctor believed her to be. One man believed her a scared mouse, while the other called her a lion.
“Maybe that’s what you want to be,” the doctor suggested. “Maybe Max isn’t someone separate, but rather, a part of yourself.”
No, she thought, Max was definitely something apart from her.
Refusing to respond to the ridiculous statement, she shrunk into herself, her body physically curling as her mind pulled away. Hidden behind a wall that, while not physical, could still be felt, she retreated to a place where the doctor’s veiled insinuations couldn’t touch her.
He only pretended to believe her, while suggesting every time they talked that she was crazy. “He called me other,” she said, her voice forceful because she knew she wasn’t crazy.
The leather of the executive chair creaked as the doctor relaxed back against it. “And what do you think that means?”