Page 15 of Cruel Cravings

I barely understood who Androski was.

…or why we were always at his home.

Our mother had used all our savings to buy a secondhand piano for my sister. Couldn’t she just practice on that so we could stay home and I’d be able to run and play?

When he appeared, the man named Androski would give a fleeting peck to my mother, and then his gaze would settle on me.

I would shyly try looking away until he’d step closer, towering over me until I was forced to tip my head up and acknowledge him.

Something dark swirled in his otherwise blue eyes; something that made my belly churn like I was going to be sick.

“Do you like playing hide and go seek?”

The memory fades for the clipped sound of Doctor Wolford’s voice. I’m seated in a scoop-backed accent chair with my journal in my lap, inundated by the stench of paper and pine. Two of Dr. Wolford’s favorite scents. He has diffusers perched among rows and rows of books on his bookshelves that spritz the air every few seconds.

He claims it’s supposed to be calming. All it does for me is tickle my nose and make me distracted.

My chest is tight, my breath’s shallow. I’ve filled the silence between us with the twitchy tapping of my foot. He’s indulged me long enough, his stare expectant from behind his spectacles.

“Well?” he says. “Jael, you insisted on seeing me on short notice. You said it was an emergency.”

“Yes… I… you said if I needed to see you,” I stammer, my leg bouncing uncontrollably. My gaze scans the sterile space that’s his office as if checking each of the four corners for anything hiding in plain sight, and I lower my voice to a whisper. “He’s back.”

He raises a silver brow in question. “Who’s back? Remember what we’ve discussed, Jael. Use your words. Speak clearly and concisely.”

“The shadow man,” I blurt out. My hands tremble opening my journal and flipping to the pages upon pages I’ve scrawled over the last few days. They’re filled with frantic notes and sketches. “He’s watching me again. I’ve seen him three times this week, Dr. Wolford. Three.”

“Jael, calm down?—”

“I have the dates and times and the places too,” I cut him off. I hold up the journal to show him, jabbing at the lined piece of paper with my index finger. “He was in my closet again. He was watching me sleep?—”

“Jael, enough.” Dr. Wolford lets his authoritative command linger for a second or two. Enough time for him to confirm I’ve shut up and won’t interrupt again. He folds a leg over his other, his right ankle resting on his left knee. He sits relaxed compared to me, his clipboard resting in his lap and his patchwork blazer hanging open. He’s paired it with a turtleneck as always.

Today’s color is an emerald green that matches his eyes.

“Okay,” he says some seconds later. “Take a long, deep breath and tell me what you saw.”

My foot taps faster. I press my hands together, trying to steady them. “He was following me down the street and he was looking through my window. He… he was in my closet. I heard him breathing.”

The doctor sighs and quickly jots something down on his clipboard. “Jael, do you remember when you claimed he was under your bed at the hospital? You wouldn’t stop screaming and Nurse Hinkley had to sedate you.”

“But he was there. If you’d just looked under the bed…”

“We did look. Every nurse that responded to the emergency said there was nothing there. Do you remember what we’ve discussed regarding your environment? What tends to happen when you’re bored and get lost in your head?”

“I make things up,” I mutter.

“Which is why it’s crucial you recognize it’s your mind playing tricks on you. These are symptoms of your condition, not reality. The shadow man, as you’ve called him, isn’t real.”

I hold up the battered notebook, shaking it for emphasis. “You don’t know that! I wrote it down. I’ve kept a log. He’s following me. He’s never going to stop.”

His lips tighten, the rest of his face lined with exasperation. “Jael, I want you to focus on what’s within your control. The fear you’re feeling is very real, but the shadow man is not.”

“But it feels…” I rack my brain to sort out my thoughts. “It feels real…”

“Let’s recenter ourselves,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “Let’s go over the tools we have in your toolbox to keep on track. What is the first thing you do during situations that feel outside of your control? When you feel a freeze up coming?”

“I… I ground myself.”

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