The Things we do for Love

The consulting room was warm; the flowers weren't dying. There was no overbearing artwork in front of him but media aesthetics with motivational works. 

"You don't have to suffer in silence."

The couch is covered in a rug of contemporary design and the therapist sat observant in her gaze."What seems to be bothering you, Mr Collins?"

He answered the question with the turn of his head. There was another couch, unoccupied and bleak. He scanned it from top to bottom to only find out that its space was occupied. He started to fiddle with his hands to keep himself occupied; to not blurt out something obscene. But he did anyway.

"Tell me."He hesitated to look up at her. "What do you see on the adjacent couch?"

Her pen stopped its work and she looked up. Looking from him to the couch and back. "Nothing Mr Collins."

He scoffed both in relief and fear. In relief that he was going insane and in the fear of nobody believing in the obscene. He was shaking his head unassuming to her presence. Then it started to move, it stood behind the couch, standing with an overpowering shadow.

"What do you see?" She shook him out of his reverie. He looked at her, stunned for a moment. Not knowing how to answer. 

"I see something from an artwork." He looked back down and realized how casual it seemed. Maybe she thought he spoke of a sculpture in the round, a found object even.

"Could you describe it to me."

He shook his head. She noticed his appearance worsened each day. Although he kept his youthful glow he looked lost. His eyes had no glint of the fierceness she had seen the first day. His determination to save his wife turned into self-loathing. The doubts that spun in his head showed in his expression. Harry had always worn his heart on his sleeve, and this time his heart was calling out to hers, Dona's.

"It's like something from a night-terror". He remembered an artwork that seemed to compete with its gruesomeness. Done by an intriguing artist, Francisco Goya. He smiled," Goya's ghost."

"Sorry?" She tilted her head.

He scratched the back of his head, forgetting that he meant to change the topic. "It reminds me of an artist that does heinous paintings, some of them leaked from his dreams."

"Have you been having bad dreams?"

"Are they dream if I still see them when I wake up?"

 He turned his head, looking back at the figure behind the couch. It held something in its hand, paw-maybe. Its fingers had webbing although the fingers were visible.

"Hallucinations?"

 Then in another second, she screamed. In shock, as an apple flung across the room and hit the opposite wall. They were both stunned as remnants of the apple laid sprawled out on the floor. A piece landed right next to Harry and as he lifted his foot, tiny gardens spiders dispersed on the surrounding floor. He got up and headed for the door before looking at her, concerned for her well-being he reached out to her. She was happy to oblige as the curtains forcefully closed by an enigmatic force. They were in the corridor, his head was bent down and he held his face with one hand, ashamed. She was breathing heavily and standing next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder for comfort.

"I can't come here anymore." He spoke first."Not until I find Dona."

 Her words were caught in her throat and she looked from side to side for confidence, searching her thoughts. She turned him towards her. "When did these ..." She paused. "Hallucinations start?"

 He shook his head. "Since Dona..."

A memory appeared. The day Dona came back from the Louvre, the day she became obsessed with the artwork, the day she...

He shook his head, no, the day he got caught in one of its traps. Tied up and left in the corner of her studio to find. Why would it do that? Dona's not to blame for anything if anything she's trying to do the right thing. Look where that got her, he gritted his teeth, bit his lip too hard and started to taste blood.

He noticed Dr Sheppard next to him, he noticed how locks of hair trailed out of her bun making her look younger. Her glasses were glinting from the daylight entering the room and he remembered. Any day without Dona.

"I'm sure they'll stop when I find her."He straightened and looked towards the exit. He put a hand on her shoulder."Thank you for seeing me but I'm afraid this will be my last visit."

 Before moving passed her she grabbed his arm. " Harry be careful."

 He nodded. " You'll be safe now." He turned his head and spoke without looking her in the eye. " Now that I'll be gone."

 When he exited the room she stood in the middle of the corridor dismayed. Her concerned turned to panic, What had he meant by "gone"?

 She ran inside her counselling room to retrieve her phone, forgetting about the apple and its antiquity. The number was on speed-dial. " You said to call in case of an emergency."

She heard the response.

"I fear for his well being."