Page 16 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
“Still all right, Collin?”
Shakes rattled through Collin’s spine. But then there was a warm hand there.
“Are you cold, Collin?”
Collin let go and buried his face in the mattress. He couldn’t. He couldn’t ask. Just this taste of something that wasn’t was too much. He pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to pull the covers over his head. But Mr. Reevesworth’s arm, still resting on his back, stopped him
Their eyes met. Collin shivered. Caught. The world swirled, and mortification crept like cold up Collin’s hands and face.
“What is it, Collin? Did I go too far?”
Collin shook his head.
Mr. Reevesworth sank down on his knees beside the bed. “Collin, do you know what you need right now?”
Collin shot a look at Damian, then one back at Mr. Reevesworth.
Damian crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Be honest, Collin.”
“I-I can’t.”
“Why?”
“It’s not right.”
Damian shook his head. “Right by whose standards? You’re human, Collin. One would surmise you’re having a human need. What is it?”
Collin’s throat worked. On one hand, he wanted to yell and throw them out and then curl up in a miserable ball and cry. And with anyone else, he might have.
“What I want doesn’t exist right now.” He drew in on himself. “Can I be alone, please?”
Mr. Reevesworth and Damian exchanged a look. Damian nodded and left the room, closing the door after him.
Collin swallowed. He’d gotten half of what he’d asked for.
Mr. Reevesworth stood up and sat down on a chair a few feet away. He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and folded his hands in front of him.
“In The Residency, Collin, many things are possible that are not possible in other places. And many things can be shifted even when a particular want or desire cannot be had directly. I sense that you do not want to be alone, and yet you are asking for it. Before I leave, I want you to try something for me.”
“What, sir?”
“Close your eyes.”
Collin closed his eyes.
“Breathe in.
“Breathe out.
“Breathe in.
“Breathe out.”
The buzzing in Collin’s head slowed a little. Mr. Reevesworth’s voice was hypnotizing.
“Collin, if you had no restrictions, perhaps like a puppy—go ahead and try to remember a puppy or even a litter of puppies you’ve seen before—and you felt like you felt now, what would you do?”
Collin tensed. He could see himself as a puppy. Something like a golden retriever. Like he’d seen once at a humane society where he’d worked in high school. The puppy had had a hurt paw and separation anxiety from losing its mother. It had limped over to every nice person around, tail wagging, begging for pets and a lap to rest in.
