Facades

*TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sexual assault*

"...the captives have improved since we found them, but there are still multiple side effects of imprisonment that we should watch for," said the doctor to the table of her associates.

David Hart glanced down at the notepad in front of him, scribbling down Stockholm Syndrome? in black pen. It wasn't often they were told to analyze patients, but something about the severity in the policemens' eyes as they arrived told the staff of Whitewood Hospital that this was no simple investigation. A series of kidnappings had been occuring in the city for five years straight. There was no consistency in the victims ages or genders or features. It was all random.

With the discovery of two wounded children who were reported missing months ago, the police did not rest for even a second. They would wring information out of the kids until they were completely dry. It was their first lead in years.

"I had the ability to speak to one of them yesterday," came a soft voice from the corner of the room.

Everyone at the table turned, their eyes finding the brown-haired behavioral therapist. Hallie Fairight was new to the hospital, and she was mainly avoided because of that. Her green eyes were wide and her expression was always calculating. Every time she stared at David, it was like she was trying to pick him apart. He absolutely hated it, especially since there were things about him the behavioral therapist had no business knowing.

"And?" the head doctor asked, looking quite surprised that any of the scarred captives worked up enough nerve to speak to Hallie.

She dipped her head. "There is something else about the girl we should take into account."

David wrote this down on his notepad, keeping one ear attuned to the sound of Hallie's quiet voice.

"What is that, Ms. Fairight?"

"One of the captives assaulted her, Dr. Kendricks. Sexually."

The table went silent. David felt his stomach drop, and a familiar cold wash through his body. He tried to focus on the notepad in front of him but the lines began to waver before his very eyes. He sucked in a silent breath of air as Hallie went on.

"That was all I could get out of her before she closed up again."

"Very well. I suggest that maybe-"

Snap!

David glanced down at his trembling fingers, only to find that his fountain pen had cracked within his grip. Black ink exploded over his hand and the pad below him, making it look like a deadly interpretive painting. This time, all of the eyes in the room were on him. An unpleasant sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

"Excuse me, Dr. Kendricks," he said as calmly as he could, pushing his chair back.

The doctor nodded, and he left the room without looking backwards.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, David hissed to himself as he shouldered his way into the bathroom at the end of the hall. You can't just do that. People will know something's wrong with you.

He turned on the sink and let it heat up before throwing his hand underneath it; bubbles smeared across the back of his hand as he applied the sickly orange soap to his skin. Black water swirled into the drain below. David cursed himself the entire time.

Once it was all gone, save for the black beneath his fingernails, David steeled himself and grabbed a handful of paper towels. He turned his back on the bathroom mirror.

Looking at his reflection would have made it worse. David hated the way he looked--it only reminded him of why everything happened in the first place. Despite not needing glasses, he wore them anyway in the hopes of hiding the acuteness of his features. He wore clothes a size too big to shroud everything about his body.

David took another deep breath before pulling his sleeve all the way down and exiting the bathroom.

Right into Hallie Fairight.

His heart leapt uncontrollably in his chest. "What are you doing out here?" he snapped, moving away from her.

Hallie cocked her head. There it was again. That look. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." David turned away and started down the hall. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" She followed behind him.

"Like I'm a science experiment for you to dissect."

"I'm just trying to understand," Hallie replied, unphased. "When I mentioned what happened to the girl, your pupils grew wider, and your hands shook. It seems as if-"

"Has anyone ever taught you to read the room, Hallie?" asked David, stopping. He turned only to find her inches away from him, green eyes still obnoxiously bright and calculating.

Utterly serious, the therapist said, "There aren't words to read on the walls, David. So I read peoples' faces. It's much more interesting. Your face was the most captivating."

"Thank you. I needed to hear that today." Then he turned on his heels and began walking again. "I wonder--is that your attempt at picking my brain, or hitting on me? Oh, I really really hope that it's the second one." He shook his head.

"Sarcasm won't get you anywhere in life, David," she said, trailing after him again.

"Really?" he replied bluntly. "It got me to the Sarcasm World Championships in Texas last spring."

"Seriously?"

He cut her a glare over his shoulder. "No, not seriously."

They arrived back at the conference room door before Hallie could respond. David could hear the faint timbre of Dr. Kendricks' voice as she went over the remaining details of the report. Unwillingly, Hallie's previous words flooded back into his head and he hesitated after reaching for the door handle.

One of the captives assaulted her, Dr. Kendricks. Sexually.

The slight hesitation in his movements was enough to make his hands start trembling again. It also didn't help that Hallie was practically breathing down his neck, cat-like eyes pinned curiously to the back of his head. It made beads of sweat break out on his temples.

"You don't have to go back in there if you don't want to," Hallie said lowly.

David hated every fiber of his being that allowed him to slink away from the door slowly, resting his back against the adjacent wall.

"I should," he said halfheartedly.

"But you don't have to."

He shot Hallie a sharp look. "What are you playing at?"

"You look like you need help."

Great. That's exactly what he wanted to look like. David let out a disgruntled sigh and combed his hair back from his eyes. "I'm fine," he repeated for what felt like the fifth time. He stowed his trembling hands behind his back. "You can help me by leaving."

She stared at him blankly. It was as if David could land the most emotional blow and she would remain completely impassive. Besides being absolutely annoyed that he couldn't get a reaction out of her, he was also envious. If only his skin was as thick. Instead he got chills when any type of abuse was mentioned, and flinched every time someone tried to touch him. Nightmares still plagued him even though they took place three years ago.

"Can I show you something?" asked Hallie.

"Only if it's the exit."

"Let's go, David."

He followed reluctantly behind Hallie as she led him past the conference room and down a hall to the right.

You wanted to see me, Dr. Neuman?

Ah yes, Mr. Hart. Shut the door. I'd like to discuss your most recent test grade...

David shook his head, forcing the memory off-kilter. He could still hear the sound of the door automatically locking behind him. His teacher removing her jacket, heels clacking against the tiles as she approached where he stood by the door...

Shh, be quiet, David. No one is coming.

Relax, David.

David...

"David?"

A hand waving in front of his face brought him back to the present, where he stood in the freezing cold hallway of Whitewood Hospital with Hallie Fairight standing in his face.

The girl did not know personal space.

David took a large step back, her soft features quickly flickering with an image of the older Dr. Neuman's.

He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was suffocating. "I-I need to leave Hallie-"

She caught him by the arm before he could flee, fingers tightly wrapping around his wrist. "Breathe," she whispered firmly, gaze commanding.

Her uncharacteristic demand made David still immediately. He did as he was told.

"Look," she said, pointing to the door in front of them. When he didn't move, Hallie dragged him over to it and put her finger against the glass window. "I mean it, David."

With a deep breath, he followed Hallie's instructions and peeked inside of the hospital room.

There were two beds inside, both along the far wall with a curtain to separate them. In one of them a young boy slept, oxygen tubes running from his nose to the machine beside his bed. In the next one was a girl who was not much older. Her skin was unnaturally pale and she sat with her knees to her chest, staring out the nearby window. Purplish bruises lined her arms and bloodied bandages were pulled over her shins.

"Her captor abused her. Twice."

David rapidly blinked back tears. "And what do you want me to do about it? Read her a bedtime story and tell her that everything will be alright?" His voice cracked against his will, and he hated that Hallie was there to hear it.

"Go talk to her."

"I-"

"You aren't alone, David." Then Hallie opened the door and pushed him inside.

The girl looked up immediately, flinching at the break in her tranquil silence. David's throat went dry; her eyes were glassy, but dead. He remembered a familiar expression on his own face as he stood in the bathroom after his meeting with Dr. Neuman, every inch of his skin on fire. He remembered how much it hurt, from his swollen and cracked lips to the marks on his neck.

"Who are you?" the girl questioned, shifting on the bed. David watched her fumble with her fingers.

Even if he were to turn around and desperately knock on the door, he knew Hallie would not open it. David knew he should trust her--she was a behavioral therapist after all, but found himself rooted to the ground. Why, why, why would she do this to him?

She's trying to help you.

David looked into the eyes of the girl once more. She was just a child. A child that was put through the same things he was. A child who had been forced to endure those horrible things, the same things that happened to him merely three years before. As an adult. No, what he saw in the girl's eyes was not emptiness. It was the look of someone who had been forced to grow up before their time.

"I'm David."

The girl shifted again, sliding her legs down into a criss-crossed position. "Jenna." She cocked her head. "Do you work with Ms. Fairight?"

"Sort of." He slowly approached the bed, grabbing one of the discarded stools in the corner. "May I sit?"

Jenna nodded.

As David made himself comfortable, the girl said, "You're here to talk to me about something."

"We don't have to talk. Not if you don't want to."

She studied him carefully. For once he didn't squirm. Jenna inched closer, as if something fascinating was on his face. "Your glasses are fake," she finally concluded.

"How are they fake if I'm wearing them right now?"

She didn't seem phased by his question. Instead, she reached out and pulled them off the bridge of his nose. David let her. Jenna held them in her small hands, tilting them this way and that as the frames caught in the light.

"Why do you wear fake glasses, David?"

He swallowed. "Because I get scared when I'm not wearing them."

Jenna nodded understandably. "I get scared when my hair is up." She tugged on a strand of her golden locks before glancing up at him. Her lips twisted. "You shouldn't be scared. You look nice."

"I won't get scared if you don't," David told the girl.

Jenna thought for a moment.

"That might take a long time," she said.

David glanced to his side, only to find Hallie watching from the window. As normal, her expression gave away almost nothing. When they made eye contact, she nodded.

"That's fine," he replied. "I have time."