Will's World

This is the story of a therapist and client with a twist at the end.

Sitting expectantly in the room, he waited. Every therapy appointment was the same, yet this guy always kept coming back. Will’s body sat tensed on the floor, hands hugging his legs, and eyes glancing intensely at the hair growing from his legs. The soft click of a door sounded as a shadow reared into Will’s downward gaze. Glancing upwards, Will saw his therapist, Henry. From this angle, Henry almost seemed tall, yet his stature stopped at 5' 6''. Henry's age was visible in the wrinkles and rolls that dragged down his face, mirroring the downward turn of his eyes. Getting up, Will walked behind Henry to the desk and chairs and sat down hesitantly. The coldness of the seat seeped through Will’s clothes as a shiver flew up his spine. Henry was quick to get right to the point and asked how Will had been recently. Will held Henry’s cold gaze with a fierce defiance as the silence stretched past the point of comfort. Henry got up, dragged the table away, and dragged his chair right in front of Will’s. Will avoided making eye contact as his hazel eyes darted to aspects of the room around them. 

The stark white light gave an uneasy feeling to the room, which was a simple office sporting a minimalistic look. Unnecessary vases and books sat to give a touch of decor to the stale room. A room whose rug held loose strings and had the look of not having been cleaned in years. Looking forward again, Henry’s faded blue eyes were quick to meet his own, yet as Henry’s lips moved, Will heard none of it. Rage. It was bubbling up to the surface, and as Henry grabbed his pen and paper, Will stood abruptly. “I'm not doing this." 

 Henry’s patient facade was quick to flutter away, and behind it was a man who craved control and did not tolerate disrespect. “Sit down, Will,” Henry said with a calm and eerie voice that grasped the last remnants of self-control. Will looked around at the one door in the room, and Henry noticed this and picked up his cane. As Will took his first step towards the door the cane swung with ferocious intent, plundering him in the shoulder. With one hit Will had become animalistic, attempting to bite, scratch, and screech while attacking Henry. Henry would never be able to do this to him again; he couldn't take it. 

The camera in the corner held a low resolution as the images presented sat bleary and at times unclear. Zooming out slowly, the white padded walls and fluorescent white lights came into view. All corners of the room appeared rounded as a heavy metal bed sat in the middle of the room, and on it sat Will. He thrashed and screamed as security notified the caretakers that Will was having an episode. Staff ran into the room as Will flailed against the jacket constraining his arms, saliva spilling past his lips. William was schizophrenic, and Henry did not exist.

Author's Note

I wrote this as a freshman in college.