Chapter Two
Dr Michael Colton stared down at her daily agenda and sighed.
Time sure does seem to fly.
The inner office was now warmly furnished with two comfortable armchairs separated by a dark-oak coffee table.
There was also a large cherrywood desk with an adjustable office chair and a few grey metal filing cabinets.
She had carefully arranged her books in the built-in shelves and hung two framed prints on the wall, one depicting the interior of a warm country cottage, the other an abstract image.
She found it interesting which piece of art her clients were drawn to and how they reacted to each picture.
It told her a little bit more about them.
One of her regular clients, Declan Hunt, had disliked both prints.
He’d described her taste in décor as a cross between a senior’s residence and a funeral home.
She thought it was homey, cosy and non-threatening.
Two cups remained on the coffee table from her previous session and there was no time to wash them, so she moved them to her desk. Hopefully this client wasn’t a person who needed things to be tidy. She smiled, then opened the door to her waiting room.
“Mr Winkler?”
A man looked back at her. He was wearing a medical face mask, and was dressed in a bulky sweatshirt and oversized track pants. “Doctor Colton, I presume,” he said.
“That would be me. Please. Come into my office.”
She led the way into the inner room and motioned him toward one of the armchairs as she took the seat opposite him.
“I hope you had no difficulty in finding the place?”
He shook his head. “No. No problem at all.”
He folded his hands in his lap and stared at her through his square-rimmed glasses.
“Good. So before we start, I have a few simple questions to ask, just to get your file opened up properly.”
“Okay.”
“When you booked your appointment, you said your name is Colin Winkler. Do you have a middle name?”
“No.”
Well, this one’s not overly chatty, she thought.
“And what’s your birth date?”
“September nineteenth, nineteen-ninety-five.”
“So, you’re almost thirty-one. Are you single, married or in a steady relationship?”
He paused, then replied, “Single at the moment.”
She noted the hesitation. “And have you ever seen a mental health therapist before?”
“No,” he replied.
“All right, Colin. Is it okay if I call you Colin, or do you prefer Mr Winkler?”
“Colin is fine.”
“Good. So, Colin, I want to get the business part of this session out of the way. First of all, everything you say here is confidential. Only you and I will be privy to what you say during our sessions. As a professional, I also have to disclose my fees to ensure you are comfortable with what I charge for my services. Since the initial meeting is really just to get to know you a little bit, it might be shorter, and as such will only cost fifty dollars. If you have private insurance, I can bill them directly. If, after our first session, you decide to continue with me, we can discuss billing further at that time, but generally my services run at about one hundred and fifty dollars per hour. Is that okay with you?”
“That’s fine,” he said, nodding. “I can afford that.”
“Good. Now, a few other things. Do you mind if I take some notes while we talk?”
“No. No problem.”
“And don’t feel that you have to slow down what you’re saying or wait for me to catch up. I’ve become very fast at making notes.”
She had already jotted down a few discreet observations—drab-coloured clothes, plain cheap eyeglasses, and dirty hair pulled back into a ponytail. This was definitely not a man who was dressing to impress. And yet, behind the glasses…something…a cold determined look in the eyes.
She continued. “Now, if you decide that you would like to carry on with our sessions, I may sometimes record them if that’s okay with you. That way I can catch all of the fine nuances of what you say. How do you feel about that?”
He mulled this over. “Do many of your clients say no?”
“My clients trust that I’ll keep the recordings secure.”
He considered this, then nodded. “Yes, recording on a future session would be fine. Just not today.”
“That’s fine, Colin. So, let’s get to the important part of this meeting. I’d like to get to know you a bit, and find out what you’re hoping to get out of our time together. Can you tell me why you’ve come here today?”
Colin shifted in his seat. “I’m afraid of things.”
She looked down and made a note. “What sorts of things?”
“May I have a glass of water, please?”
“Of course.”
She got up and went to the small fridge by her desk. “I hope you don’t mind bottled water?”
“No, that would be all right,” he said as she returned and passed him the bottle.
His hands trembled as he took off the cap, set it down, lifted the bottom of his mask and took a sip of water. When he was finished, he put the mask back into place. He stayed silent.
“Are you all right, Colin?” Michael asked gently.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Would you like to continue?” she asked.
He nodded.
“So, Colin, you said you’re afraid of things. What sorts of things?”
He wrung his hands before whispering, “Nightmares. I’ve been having nightmares. I had them as a kid, but they only lasted a night or two and then they went away, but now…” His eyes widened. “They’ve come back, and with a vengeance. I’m terrified to go to sleep.”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Colin, I’m so sorry to hear that. That must be very difficult.”
“Yes.”
“So, Colin, do they occur every time you go to sleep?”
“No. But at least three or four nights a week.”
“I see,” she said. “And how long have you been having these dreams?”
He paused. “Months now. Two, maybe three.”
This is going to take some time, she thought.
“Colin, do you feel like you can tell me what your dreams are about?”
He started to breathe deeply, and his eyes began to water.
“I’m standing in my bedroom and I’m staring at my hands. I’m holding the world. And this world in my hands…I can see the clouds moving, and the world is shaking. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I know that something bad is going to happen and only I can stop it.”
“What do you think is going to happen, Colin?”
“The world is going to…explode or something. I’m not sure. I just know it’s going to be really bad. And then…”
Colin started to shake. “And then the world starts to split open…like an egg that’s hatching. And from inside the glowing world, they come streaming out.”
He stood and began to pace around the room.
Michael kept her voice even and calm. “Colin, you’re all right. You’re safe here. I’m going to try and help you. So you said they come streaming out. What are they, Colin? Can you tell me?”
He stopped and turned to her with a look of terror in his eyes. “Spiders. Hundreds of spiders.”