Cravings

Called insane

White walls.

A distinguishing lingering scent of sweetly scented detergents with a faint hint of Jasmine always dressed the spacy office.

Her eyes always seemed to flea to the framed accolades and honours decorating the walls every time a qualm of nerves attacked her and and an unknown, unsettling feeling brewed in the depths of her stomach.

Subtly, she sank into the comfortable leather seat, failing to appreciate the luxurious cushioning that supported her back and carried her dererrie and the stream of cool air pouring over her hot and agitated skin.

"I last saw you three months ago, how have you been Quinn?" The first question of many to come, reminded her of the minimum minutes she's been in his office, a tiny fraction to the two to three hours she usually spends under those heavily scrutinising eyes.

Instinctively, her eyes darted around the room, missing only the areas that would need a turning motion of her neck. Five seconds. That's how time she had to provide the man with a verbal response, otherwise he'd repeat himself and this time, a tight lip smile and narrowed, concentrating eyes, would accompany his invoking deep voice. She knew better than to allow that to happen, she did not want him making conclusions this early in her visit.

Posh furniture pieces scattered nicely around the office, most of which an internal decorator and any being with an aesthetic eye, would appreciate - although the same could not be said for the rest of the facility, which had received no treatment of care whatsoever in these past three months.

Contrast to the welcoming, eye capturing lavishness of the room, was the strict, effortlessly corrective and persecuting ambiance it held.

Much like its owner.

Doctor Yates.

If his intense blue eyes, sharp facial features, thin lips which she has never seen, curving up to a smile more genuine than the tight lip one he always offers, did not intimidate you, his strict, stern nature and ability to exert his power and change the entire course of your life, definitely will.

A shadow danced before her eyes as she met a reflection on the sliding door's pellucid, glass surface, a reflection that wasn't hers. On the mirror substitute, she could see the back of Dr. Yate's gray hair covered head and every else within the door's reflective surface as it were, just not her.

That's why she was here. That's why on an early Wednesday morning, she was in the office of the most accredited Psychiatrist in the world and very familiar with the premises of his private psychiatric hospital *insert name*. They all couldn't see her, only she did, and no one ever believed her when she told them of the woman, that lives in her head, that she always sees in her mirror, just as she was seeing her now. Her beauty couldn't be depicted in words, words could do her enviable, unnatural *another word for beauty* no justice; emerald green eyes that always had her hypnotised and entrapped in their alluring depths, every feauture to her face was sculpted perfectly to cause not even the slightest harm to her flawless face, and a charming, magnificently refined voice, gave her overbearing power over most, if not all individuals. She was unbelievably beautiful, but she was unbelievably evil as well. Those enticing emerald green eyes always urged her to do bad things with their deceiving genuineness, that charming voice, always placed such appeal to the sinister words she says. She didn't know the woman, she'd never ever seen her before until a year ago when she emerged in her mirror and claimed her reflection, she had never heard a dark voice quite like hers, until eleven years ago, when she heard a "They don't like you.." and looked around, only to find the words had no visible owner. She asked and begged to know who she is and why she was relentlessly haunting her, what she wanted from her, and all that got her was frequent admission to the "volatiles' psychiatric ward over the years.

She had gotten so accustomed to mental scrutiny, that she had garnered enough tricks to stay out of loony bin for almost two years now, and she wanted it to remain that way. Although he'd released her on the believe that she's fit enough not to pose any danger to society, Dr. Yates kept her on scheduled check-ups and she found herself sitting across him after every three months. She was terrified every time she had to go see him, fearing every check-up morning would be the last she wakes up on her bed, takes a shower peacefully in her bathroom.

Deep in thought, she failed to notice the doctor's head turn to direction of the door she'd fixed her eyes on, before he diverted his attention back to her. Five seconds had long elapsed.

"Right," the doctor carelessly flipped the pages of a notebook and reached for the pen on his desk, "I thought you would be more comfortable around me seeing as I've been your doctor for a decade now. Relax Quinn, I'm not the enemy, my office should be a safe haven for you."

As she usually did, Quinn lightly nodded her head and gave the man a small smile, though her eyes told him she thought none of what he said to be true.

"Take a deep breath and relax, I'm not here to judge you." There was nothing calming about his stoic voice, he still maintained his superiority and hence, she couldn't ease her nerves at all. She did as told and took a deep inhale and exhale, that's how she'd managed to stay out for so long, by following instructions without any hesitation. "You seem to be more relaxed now."

"Yes." She muttered with little confidence, but her audible voice covered for that lacking.

She should've known he'd do this!