Musings of the Most Vile - Sticker Attempt #1

A pressure had been mounting behind my eyes ever since I had woken up.  As the first few rays of sunshine peeked through my dark curtains, I began to feel as if someone had placed a balloon within my head and they were slowly inflating it, eventually reaching a size far beyond that of my skull.  The day passed, night fell and my head still felt vastly separated from the rest of my body.  It was a funny feeling; one that I had not felt for sometime.  I was stressed beyond any reasonable level.  Unconsciously, I shifted the volume within my grasp into my other hand, dreading the task that had been unfortunately forced upon me.  There was dirty work that I enjoyed, but this… this way something never to be enjoyed.

As I crept through the dark shadows of the city, purposely avoiding streetlights and windows alike, I began to try and release some of the pressure.  Slowly tightening and loosening the grips of my gloved hands, I breathed slowly and silently.  After several minutes of concentration, I gave up.  It was futile.  My nervousness around this all was something that I just couldn’t simply shake.  Nonetheless, I couldn’t lose sight of what mattered; getting back to what I did best and not losing myself in the process.

Just as I was about to round the corner leading toward my destination, I heard a faint sound.  It was quiet enough to not be easily distinguishable.  Knowing the sheer importance of my task and most importantly maintaining my anonymity, I slowly reached a hand into my pocket and grasped the concealed blade within.

Suddenly, a light flicked on above my head.  Without hesitation, I ducked down and rounded the corner.  Reaching the rear of the building opposite, I quickly surmounted the fire escape and peered cautiously back over toward the other building.

The light that had turned on, flipped off after a minute.  I could only hope it had been unrelated.  Prodding myself forward regardless, I reached into my jacket pocket and retrieved my small set of lockpicks and shims for the window.  But, I stopped when I realized that the window had moved in response to my hand leant up against it.  Unbelievable.  It was already unlocked.  Disappointed, I sheathed the tools and slowly slid the window open.  As I slid inside, a man seated at the far side of the room nearly jumped through the ceiling when he noticed my sudden appearance.

The startled man let out a short yelp before clearing his throat in an attempt to cover his surprise.  “Ah, Ahem… I see we are still unaccustomed to using the front door,” he commented as I shut the window and dropped the shade.

“Force of habit.  Besides, you should really lock your windows.”

“Right, anyway… Well, why don’t we get started.   Last session, I gave you some homework.”

He returned to his chair and motioned toward the one adjacent.  I obliged and released the volume that I had been carrying into his care, watching with anticipation as he flipped open its contents and sifted through the pages as if lost.

“Uh, I’m not seeing any writing. I did ask tha-”

“Write!?”  I sputtered, barely suppressing a smile.  “Write… No, that’s not true.”

Moving initially as if to contest, the soulless drone of this mandated therapy meeting looked back at me in bewilderment before slowly reconsidering my notebook filled with what were essentially hieroglyphs while recollecting his previous instructions.

“Oh, urm… I guess I did ask you to record your week in this notebook.”

“Precisely,” I replied through a full on grin.  “Record, and that’s what I’ve done.  You said to fully  express myself and I did… in my own way.  I count that as a win for me.  That’s 3 to 1 now, square.”

He couldn’t help but let out a low sigh.  “I told you this last time and the time previous, there is no winning therapy.  It’s not about-”

“Oh, yes.  Right, no winning.  But… I don't think anyone would argue that I am losing our exchanges, would you?  Besides, this wouldn't really be much fun otherwise.  Well, fun for me anyway.”