Page 68 of Brainwashed
But then the other part, the one that remembers another asshole in a position of power molesting me with sex toys last night, is incredibly wary.
Joy concedes with a smartass remark I can barely even hear as she yanks me along, up the hall to the East Wing showers. She opens the door and pulls me through it, shoving me toward the stall we usually use. And I just stand there, my insides humming, while she takes out a new soap bar and a plastic garbage bag for me to stand on.
I’m painfully aware of Dr. Love’s presence as Joy removes my shackles, then helps me out of my straitjacket. My eyes keep flitting to his while she tells me I have five minutes, standing back with her hand on her Glock.
I suck in one last breath to calm myself before I begin stripping. Slipping out of my shoes first, I try balancing on the plastic trash bag in order to avoid touching the floor of these nasty showers. The foot fungus would be inevitable, and I’m not about that. Stepping out of my pants slowly, I leave them on the small stool nearby. And now I’m standing in front of them in nothing but my new yellow boxer briefs. The ones that Dr. Love got for me.
My eyes glide to his, and I see some intensity there. Something very subtle, though it’s certainly a differentiation from his normal look, even if minor. Our eyes remain locked while I slip my fingers into the waistband of my Calvins and push them down.
Here I stand, naked as the day I was born, with people staring at me. Unfortunately, I can’t say this is the first time this has happened to me here. But it’s definitely the first time a doctor asked toobserveme in my birthday suit. And judging by the way he’s just standing there, I’m still not really sure what he aims to get out of this.
Spinning away, I give him my back, pressing the button of the wall to turn on the shower spray. Of course, it’s cold as fuck at first, but it warms up a little after a few seconds. I wash myself as thoroughly as possible, as fast as possible, since I know I’m running out of time. Showering feels really good right now, just like I knew it would. And I don’t want to linger on washing my private areas since I have an audience, but I make sure to get in there and hopefully get rid of the memory of losing my butt virginity last night to someone I most certainly didn’t want to give it to.
Peeking over my shoulder, I blink at Dr. Love while he does exactly what he said he would… Observes. It really looks like he’s seeing something in what I’m doing. What that is, I’m not at all sure.
Droplets of water fall over the lenses of my glasses, and it reminds me that I should have taken them off. But I don’t even care. I’d rather be able to see what’s going on around me than worry about having to dry my glasses. I hate taking them off, especially around here. It’s just another disadvantage to put me in, when I’m already their chained-up side-show attraction.
When I’m done rinsing, Joy throws me a towel. Turning to face Dr. Love, I stand there for a solid few seconds, letting him see me completely naked. I don’t cover up with the towel. I simply brush it over my skin, watching him while he watches me.
To my own surprise and immense satisfaction, his eyes do an appraising glide down my frame. I feel them, like the searing heat of a laser moving along my chest, my abs, my pelvis. He obviously sees my dick because it’s just hanging out, and while I do feel a lot of different things right now, shame isn’t one of them. Because even after a cold shower, I’m still more than satisfied with what I have to offer downstairs.
Dr. Love’s eyes even move down my legs to my feet, before coming back up. And he gazes at me while I towel myself dry. I take advantage of the fact that I think I have him captivated, running the towel along the curves of my body. But this time, his eyes stay with mine. The amber remains on my gray, and though I don’t see any sort of indication that he likes what he sees, he definitely appears invested. That much I can tell. It’s a face he makes often during our sessions, giving away the slightest glimpse into the mystery doctor I know practically nothing about.
I don’t know if he’s gay, or straight, or bi. I don’t know if he’s sexually attracted to me… Honestly, I feel like he might be asexual.
I don’t know where he’s from, what kinds of things he does for fun, if he even knows what fun is.
But what Idoknow is that he’s dazzled by me. Maybe in a different way than I am by him, but still. He’s hooked nonetheless.
And as I get dressed, while Joy puts an end to whatever was just happening in this room and Dr. Love storms away, I’m reminded of a passage I read in my book the other night…
The ongoing dilemma we face as researchers in the behavioral sciences is learning to live with what we know. Making a space for it inside ourselves. There must be a distinct line where we end and our patients begin.
But what separates true psychological researchers from the therapists of the world is that we are willing to skip over that line from time to time. We must be willing to give ourselves over to the sincere nature of our research. To become one with our own demons and let them dance with those of our patients.
Only then can we remove the veil. Only then can we begin to mold.
It may sound odd, but adjusting to life on this island hasn’t actually been that much of anadjustmentfor me.
Sure, sleeping in a new place always takes a couple of days, especially when that place is a giant, infinitely dark mansion, the interior of which looks like it was decorated by Lestat and Louis. But even so, I’ve found that the sounds of the ocean work rather well to lull me to sleep. I’ve been known to use a sound machine at night to calm the raging waters of my mind.
My new home comes with a free one built-in.
Even the gym here is exceptional, and since I’m partial to working out in the evenings, I rarely bump into anyone, save for the occasional guard. But from what I understand, a majority of the officers work out in the mornings. I’m mainly referring to John Chevelle and his partner—or one of them—Joy Jameson. They’re kind of the last people I want to run into here at home, since they obviously don’t like me, and dealing with them daily at work is more than enough, for all of us.
The thing is, I’m a quiet loner. I think we’ve established that by now, so not having any friends is really nothing new for me. In fact, I prefer it that way. I don’t enjoy socializing, and I never have. I remember having a few close friends in high school, but after everything… happened, they all sort of trickled off. That was when I channeled all my time and energy into not only getting the fuck out of my parents’ house, but also getting into a good school, and eventually med school. My entire life became about learning, because it’s my favorite thing.
I’m hopeless and desperately smitten to understanding the human mind. It’s the only sweetheart I need.
I’m coming out of my office to go meet with Dr. Johansson as a thought tickles.
I wrapped my hands around his throat…
I can feel the tightening. I swallow hard, and it burns.
My fingers squeezed into the soft flesh, the straining muscle…
With Felix’s words decorating my brain, I slip around the corner and knock on the office door of my colleague.
