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“What about today?”
“What about it?” I say. “I had a moment of weakness.”
No, don’t do it.
“You’re going to come to my home every week.”Don’t. Do. It.“That’s where we can talk without barriers.”
“Are you being funny?” he asks, thoroughly confused. Katantia has affected me in the most torturous way. I shake my head.
“No, I’m not. This doesn’t mean we’ll do what we did last week,” I clarify. “We’ll change the scenery, and I won’t consider you my patient anymore.”
“And who will I be to you? Mr. Winters?”
“No, that ship has sailed,” I quickly say. But I can swim, though. I can catch up to it if he only lets me. “We’ll be friends. You need a friend right now, and I can be that for you.”
Jordan Winters leaves my office, and I shudder at his absence. I must start doing my job if I want him to get better.
* * *
I couldn’t bring allmy books from home, so I’ve resorted to an electronic device. Since my schedule wasclearedby a smothering Jordan, I have nothing to do. My patients are down the hall, seeing my colleagues. I’d take them back for the day, but they’ve already endured one change in their day. I don’t want to add any further stress.
A couple of years ago, Jordan confessed that he self-medicates with weed. I’ve been researching it ever since. I’m opposed to it as a concept, but recent studies, or lack of them, continue to trouble me. There aren’t enough clinical trials for a definite answer.
The research keeps my mind offthings.
On my way out of the hospital, I plug in my headphones. I’ve been walking from and to the office for a couple of days now. It’s good exercise, and I get to spend time out in the open.
I’m almost out of the winding doors when a hand on my shoulders halts me.
I hear my name. “Ivy?”
“What’s up?” I respond, taking off my headphones.
One of the newbies is gawking at me a little too close. He gets himself together enough to clear his throat. “Ignas has asked you to call him. He’s had an accident. He didn’t come to the session today.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” I say, and I rush out of the hospital. I dial Ignas’ number, but he doesn’t pick up.
Ignas:
I fractured my knee.
Ivy:
WHAT HAPPENED! Should I come by your place?
Ignas:
Yes, please. Bring me bitter choc strawberries.
I chuckle at my phone. He’s never had an accident like that before, but I’m not surprised that it finally happened. He’s very athletic, and he’s been practicing tons of sex moves for his job at COCKED&screwed.
Hopping into my car, I go to a grocery store to grab ingredients for a fresh soup, and then I swing by the Fuck Me French store. My purchase of four deluxe boxes has the store owner gifting me an additional box of milk chocolate-covered strawberries.
With my gifts in the passenger seat, I drive to Ignas’ home. He still lives in one of the abandoned youth facilities because he can’t afford his own place just yet. I park my car outside, and I make sure it’s locked. Crime is low on Katantia, but Ignas’ youth facility is surrounded by sketchy abandoned homes and ruins. The South Side is still struggling to recover from the destructive tsunami five years ago.
I knock on Ignas’ door, but it’s open, so I let myself in without a worry in the world. My hands are full, and I can’t stand around for long without dropping everything. Ignas is probably holed up in his bed watching romantic comedies.
Unfortunately for me, he’s not watching romcoms. I reach his bedroom, and I find him in a compromising position. Ignas is on the bed, and his knee is in a cast. However, a man is shoving his cock down Ignas’ throat. He’s above Ignas, fucking his face. I can’t stand to see this, so I remove myself from the scene.
