The guard stepped back out of the doorway as I approached. He seemed smaller than when I first came to Juvie. I was practically the same height as him now.
He led me down the corridor, gripping his cuffs, his breathing laboured as if he had just run a half-marathon. I could bolt if I wanted to; it wasn’t like he could catch me. But I stayed, tucking my hands into my pockets as I lingered at his side towards the shrink’s office.
I stepped in without waiting for permission, sat down, and propped my feet on the edge of his desk. Dr Brenner glanced at them through his brow, then up to my unimpressed expression before continuing to scribble something on his notepad. I watched his pen as if it were a weapon—a fleeting thought crossing my mind's eye of lunging forward and forcing it straight into his jugular—Smiling as the life left his eyes.
Eventually, he glanced up, his face remaining steady as he crossed his legs. I was no longer slouching in his presence, and I sure as hell didn’t avoid eye contact with him.
“Good afternoon, Tyler,” he said. “How are you feeling after your time in isolation?” I gave him a long, hard stare, toying with the thought of revealing how it really went. If I started spouting crap about hearing voices and wanting nothing more than to cover my hands in the blood of certain individuals, I can imagine I'd be medicated out of my skull quicker than I could say Psycho.
“Stop calling me that, it's Screech.” He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes towards me.
“Okay,” drawing the word out. “I hear it’s common for people to find clarity in the silence,” he said. I gave a small huff of a laugh, as the silence had a corrupting effect on my fractured mind.
“How did you find it? Did you feel it helped with your anger?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It helped me focus alright.”
He tapped his pen against the notepad. “That’s good, care to explain what helped?”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I pondered the answers I could give him, ones that could satisfy his need to ‘understand me’.
“I’m here to help guide you through and understand the traumatised parts of your psyche.” Tilting his head to the side.
Instinctively, I mirror his action, a slight smile creeping onto my face. The deepness of the voice erupts within my mind.
“Fucking idiot, he knows nothing. He will never understand you; shut him down.”
My eyes drifted away from him for a split second as I registered his voice.
“I understand plenty.”
“Then tell me what you understand Screech. Talk me through it.” I let the silence build. Allowing the weight of it to fill the space between us. I crossed my arms over my chest, directing my glare almost through him.
“People like me, we don’t get better. We get sharper. We learn who holds the knife and who’s dumb enough to turn their back.”
Dr Brenner's pen hovered over the notepad; he didn’t write that one down. Instead, he clasped his hands, his gaze intensifying towards me.
“Screech, did something happen in solitary? Because if it did, you can tell me. I’m not the enemy here.”
My smile remained, “You’re not my friend either. Are you?”
He shook his head, averting his eyes, “No. But I am someone who has seen a change in you. I saw who you were when you first got here. And I can see who you’re becoming. You can’t allow that to happen.”
I scoffed; he sounded like Chester. I stood up, slow and deliberate, placing my hands onto the edge of his desk. “Then maybe you should stop watching and start locking the doors.”
His brows furrowed as I let my idle threat sink in. “This hostile response just tells me one thing. That you’re scared and very much still hurting.” I walked to the door, chuckling to myself and knocking against it twice.
“We’re done here. You don’t know fucking anything. Until next time, Doc, stay safe.”
As the guard let me out, Dr Brenner said one last thing, just loud enough to reach me.
“You can continue carrying that pain with you, but eventually you will bleed to death under the weight of it.”
I'd started to think the guards would never give me another cellmate. But in a way, I appreciated it, and it meant I wasn’t going to end up slitting some poor fuckers’ neck just for looking at me the wrong way. Since solitary, I started spending more and more time in my cell. Just me and the voice worming around my head in the early hours
Although I would occasionally entertain myself by venturing out to taunt Misfit, it was my new favourite pastime. As well as hers. Whether it was switching out her shampoo with hot sauce, or pulling in a favour with the laundry lads, so they didn’t wash her clothes until she had nothing left to wear.
The little wars kept stacking up.
