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“What kind of music do you like?” he smiles.
“Oh, everything,” I smile back. “Maybe it’s not cool, but I love all the classic oldies. I grew up listening to them with my parents. You know, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones…”
He chuckles, and is just about to respond, when there’s a shrill whistling sound that can be heard all across the garden. I bite back a curse. Time to get back to my room.
Damn it, I didn’t get anywhere with this guy yet.
Still, I’m playing at being the good patient, so I immediately bob to my feet. “I better get back now,” I say brightly, like I just can’t wait to be confined to that depressing cell for the rest of the day. “It was really nice meeting you, Dr. Wheeler!”
“You too, Avery.”
I catch his eyes gliding over my body, so I lean over, pretending to refasten the Velcro strips on the ugly shoes they have us wear.
Sure enough, the nice doctor’s eyes linger on my cleavage, just visible through the neckline of my polo shirt.
Hello.
I straighten up. “See you soon,” I beam, fluttering my eyelashes. And then I slowly walk away, sure to put a little extra sway in my hips.
It’s cheap, but hell, I don’t have many options here. I need to work with what I have. Dr Wheeler is the first friendly face I’ve seen in this whole place since I arrived, and somehow, I have to convince him to help me get out of here.
An hour later, I discover, that might just be easier than I hoped.
“Dinner’s up,” the orderly calls, not even knocking before he unlocks my room. I don’t get up as he deposits a tray, but then he sets something else down, too.
It’s a CD player.
I hide my excitement until he leaves the room, then rush over to investigate. It’s a decade old and has probably been gathering dust in a supply closet somewhere, but it runs off a battery just fine, and there’s a CD inside: the Beatles’Greatest Hits.
I sit cross-legged on my stiff bed and eat the bland food I was brought with a smile on my face as I listen to the music. It’s not because I particularly care for the soft rock tunes playing through the speaker.
I’m just happy that I’ve already made an impact on the doctor.
I’m going to get the hell out of here.
* * *
The next day,I manage to fake taking my pills again in the morning, earning me more goodwill among the staff. I’m still stuck in my room, counting down the hours until I can arrange a meeting with Dr. Wheeler again.
Should I request one of his art therapy sessions? Or would that be too much, too soon. No, it would probably draw too much attention, I’m best just waiting until I can ‘accidentally’ run into him again.
Finally, I’m allowed outside for my break time. I don’t have a way to check my reflection, so I can only hope that I look good when I finally step out into the sunlight and scope the gardens for my target.
I spot Dr. Wheeler, sitting on that same bench. He smiles right away as he sees me approaching. “Avery,” he says happily.
“Dr. Wheeler. Thank you so much for the music,” I say, making sure to flutter my eyelashes a bit.
He looks bashful. “Well, I know that a small thing like that can really help, and I hear that you’re cooperating with your treatment now, so I thought you deserved a little treat.”
Deserved a little treat.You fucking power-hungry idiot.
I bite back the insult. “You asked around about me?” I ask instead, pretending to be shy and flattered.
“Well, I am a doctor here. My interest is a part of my job.”
The hell it is. He’s interested in a lot more than he should be.
“You know, working with the creative arts has been proven to be very therapeutic,” Dr. Wheeler continues, puffing up a little. “It’s actually my specialty.”
