Lines Drawn (Drawn to You #2) - Ker Dukey Page 0,66

myself time to take in the scenery, to enjoy the small things in life, the things we often miss or ignore, store away and never come back to.

You never know when those little things will become the big things, or if you’ll even make it to experience the “big stuff.”

The echoes of people’s laughter from a nearby café carry on the wind and infect me with their joy, bringing my own smile to my lips.

My eyes caress over the bustling crowd of commuters pouring from the subway, all hurrying to get to their jobs, schools, lives.

Life always goes on. People keep on moving, keep on breathing, living.

So much has changed; so much of me has changed inside. The foundations of who I am, my years, don’t reflect the age I feel within.

My experience of life; the good, bad, and the true evil, is enough for many lifetimes.

Walking through the doors to her office, my tummy settles. I always come here feeling nervous. Opening up is a scary prospect. If I open the gates to the pain buried beneath, will I ever be able to close them?

I take a seat in the waiting area that I’ve sat in many times before.

I brush over my fingertips over the velvet of the seat cushion, and I make a mental note that I like the feel of it against my skin and should invest in some throw pillows for our couch.

My heart spikes with a shrill noise that echoes into the room from the receptionist’s phone. The hairs lift on the back of my neck as my stomach churns before settling when my brain catches up with my nervous system. There’s no threat; it’s just a phone ringing.

The woman behind the desk ignores it completely, letting it ring while she sits there eating a sandwich, loudly. Her lips smack together while the chewed up mess in her mouth slaps around her gums.

My brows pull into a frown. Her eyes flitter over to mine and then back down to a magazine she’s reading on her desk. She can’t be much older than me, but there’s a peaceful aura to her that I can’t reach without medication.

Maybe she’s on medication too. I know more than most not to judge a book by its cover.

Averting my eyes from hers, I pull my handbag into my lap and search for my cell. The cold device finds my palm, and I check it for messages.

Don’t pick anything up for dinner; I’m cooking.

A genuine smile curls my lips; my lungs expand as I drag air in to fill them. Happiness swirls inside my head sending a humming over my skin. My fingers flit over the keypad.

What about dessert?

I wait, staring at the screen, knowing he will reply straight away. He always does.

You’re dessert.

My legs squeeze together to ebb the pulse beginning to throb there.

“Antonia?”

My head darts up to see Dr Evans waiting for me with her door open. My name on her tongue brings back the nervous flutter from before. Dropping my cell back into my purse, I get to my feet and follow her inside.

It doesn’t feel the same in here as it used to.

Nothing has changed. The furniture is laid out in the exact position it always has been, a fine layer of dust sits on the surface of her bookshelf, and a copy of War and Peace stands further out on the shelf than any other book. She once told me it’s her favorite.

The carpet snags on the heel of my boot as I sit, drawing my eyes to the small hole in the rug that the chair sits on.

“How are you?” she asks, pushing her glasses further up her nose. What a loaded question. Does she do that on purpose? I almost laugh when I catch her smiling at me.

“Long or short answer?” I ask.

“If there is a long answer then I think it’s best we hear it.” She pushes a stray strand of hair from her face. Her eyes sparkle, the crinkles around them show her maturity.

Leaning back, I enjoy the chair curling around my bones, sheltering me.

“I’ve learned a lot in a short amount of time. Some days are better than others. I still have the nightmares.”

“Where he is calling to you and you can’t reach him?” she asks, focusing her full gaze on me, flaying the shield and exposing my fractured soul.

I nod my head, losing myself in the thoughts of those dreams.

“I’m chasing the sound through the dark, and the black mass