The Frozen Ground flaws

雨水 [2] / [35]

“As your boss, let me help you until you're back on your feet. I need to be sure you'll be alright. I know what you want to say. I know I am nothing to you except a boss. But, let’s not argue now about my status to you. Just let me help you out, please.”

She added the last word, to make it sound smooth. Alexander said quietly.

“You don’t know how helpless I feel about myself. To follow you, to be taken care of like a little child. I was almost killed by a woman, and couldn't do anything about it.”

He felt a sense of shame beyond description about happenings which were not related at all to one other. Cynthia just listened to him without a word. She knew his personality. He hated inconveniencing somebody because of something within himself, and evaded as far as possible any situation in which he should attract attention or be noticed. He also easily blamed himself for cases which were not his fault, or which nobody could have changed the conclusion of.

All these feelings might have been caused by past trauma. Now this attempted murder case set fire to his psyche, unleashing this negativity. At least Cynthia guessed that was why. Alexander relented.

"Alright, I'll stay here for awhile, and I'll consider therapy, but I'm not seeing a damn psychiatrist. I don't need pills. Maybe I just need someone to talk to."

Cynthia knew much of what was bothering Alexander came from a place where that which desperately needed expressed, yet continually suppressed, sat to fester and rot in a sort of cognitive purgatory in lieu of an outlet. Maybe he just needed someone to listen, someone who he could engage with to help him unload these burdens.

She wanted to listen to his story, even for a whole night. But she didn't want to force him to say anything he didn't want to, or pressure him to talk about something he didn't want to discuss.

“I’m always ready to hear you. Anytime. I hope you remember that. Okay, we need to have dinner. What do you want to eat?”

They had a simple dinner together, since Alexander barely could eat. Cynthia offered him 2 pieces of baked whole-oat baguettes and a little bit of blueberry jam, and made mixed berry smoothies.

“You not eating a proper dinner for my sake?”

he asked.

“No, I usually don’t have dinner. Maybe a smoothie sometimes, or some kind of drink. That's usually enough to hit the spot.”

She poured a smoothie into his glass. He glared at it as she poured, and as liquid filled the glass, he noted the blood red color of its contents. Some disgusted feeling rose in his throat, but he swallowed it, and closed his eyes. He wouldn't give in.