Wake to Dream(40)

Silence was a heavy ticking elegy that beat with the rhythm of the wall clock and drowned out the sound of a sink dripping endlessly.

Studying her, the doctor remained silent as if he was waiting for more from her. Alice stared back at him, also waiting. They’d reached some kind of stonewall where both people had more to say, but neither was willing to say it.

Whereas Alice’s thoughts were a jumble, nothing truly concrete or static, the doctor had reached an obvious decision and proceeded forward in an attempt to lead his patient to the proper understanding of the emotions she was feeling.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you fell in love with him? Was the lack of the disorders the only reason?” He paused, his focus unrelenting when he quietly asked, “Is there more to the love you’re feeling, Alice? People don’t normally experience love after being violated in the most personal of ways. Can you think of something else that might have happened to make you feel that way?”

Slapping at the tears that slid down her jawline and clung to her chin in fear they'd fall away and be forgotten, Alice pulled her bent legs to her chest and rested her forehead against the warm, hard planes of her knees. She didn’t understand what the doctor was asking of her, but something pulled at her thoughts, a gentle tug that was as annoying as it was frightening.

"I didn't tell you the last part, apparently. If I had, you would understand completely."

The soft sigh that blew over the doctor's lips did nothing to calm Alice. Silently, he considered her words while the beat of his pen against paper counted down the full minute it took him to make his decision.

"I wanted to discuss more about your father in this session, more about your life before the loss of Delilah and the dreams." He paused, waiting for her to look at him.

Alice pulled her head from her lap at the absence of sound, her eyes meeting his before he continued.

"But, I think the disclosure you just made trumps everything I wanted to go over. Tell me what happened, Alice. I want every possible detail."





After Max removed his weight from Alice and rolled over on the bed, a blessed rush of cool air washed across her skin, the parts of her that were wet and swollen growing cold when the air found them.

"We should clean up," Max finally said, his voice gritty and raw.

Alice struggled to pull her face from the comfort of the mattress, as if staying there long enough would suffocate her slowly and grant her the escape that Max refused to give.

Crushed and broken from the way he'd played her body like he knew every touch, every kiss, every painful place that turned her on, she dared voice a question that was as ordinary as it was strange. "What is with you and cleaning?"

The soft chuckle that whispered over his lips was unsettling. "I like a clean house," he explained. "Everything has its place. Everything is spotless and new. Everything is controlled and regulated, with no surprises or mistakes." He paused, his eyes raking a tender trail down her body, a slow caress of ghost fingers left in its wake.

Almost resigned, his voice was a feather soft confession when he admitted, "There are scars we can't wash away that mark us for life, Alice. There's no need for our outward environment to be as marred and ugly as us."

The mattress jumped after he stood to leave the room and disappear into the adjacent bathroom. Rolling to her back, Alice enjoyed the wash of cool air over her breasts, her ears picking up the sound of rushing water from behind the closed door.

Assuming Max was in the shower, she stared up at the chains that hung above her and wondered about their purpose. Perhaps if she hadn't so easily been seduced, he would have bound her in those shackles. A shiver coursed through her at the thought, and her eyes followed the hypnotic swing of the chains and the glint of light against the metal cuffs that dangled just above her.

The shower turned off after a few minutes, a cloud of swirling steam billowing out when the door was pulled open. Max stepped through with a white towel wrapped loosely around his narrow hips.

"It's your turn," he stated calmly, his eyes having returned to the ice cold temperature that felt like frozen fingers against her skin each time he stared her down.

Not wanting to move, Alice dragged the blanket on the bed over to cover herself, her head resting back against the mattress when she asked, "Why?" A slight shrug of her shoulder and she mused aloud, "Maybe if I stay dirty you won't want to rape me again."

It was the wrong thing to say, but the words had already been released like small squawking birds that wouldn't be silenced.

Max didn't so much as blink in immediate response to her words, but after a minute he turned and retreated back into the bathroom. The shower turned on again, great rolling clouds of steam dancing out the door, spinning and churning against the cold air of the bedroom.

Alice closed her eyes, exhaustion settling over her and lulling her into a false sense of comfort, but it wouldn't be for long. The shower turned off and heavy steps announced Max' return, his naked form a silhouette in the doorway with the towel he'd previously used to cover his hips now hanging steaming and soaked in his hand.

He stepped into the light of the bedroom, his malicious gaze locked on Alice, so scathing that she sat up from the bed and inched her way to the side. By the time her feet hit the floor, he'd started across the room, closing what little distance there was. "Then I'll wash you my goddamned self."