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Ivy Page 2019

The Swan

Peter sat in the frayed leather chair, tugging at the hairs around his wrist. His face held similar glasses to the ones he wore back when he was a child. Freckles still framed his face.

The receptionist seemed far too welcoming for a therapy clinic surrounded by recovering addicts and withered souls. Thoughts swirled around him, twisting and turning his mind. The mere sound of the birds outside the window caused him great pain. The sound which once gave him so much joy were now cackles that sent him sinking into his seat.

He was diagnosed with PTSD when he was released from hospital. Instead of getting help he hid away in seclusion, drinking the days, months and years away. To think he had once been a driven boy who was eager to learn and thrive.

The faces around him had glassy eyes glistened with the residual tears. The people in the waiting room were only the broken shells left behind by shattered souls.

The loud speaker hissed and cracked until a soft woman’s voice came over.

“Can Mr Watson please come to room 12? Thank you.” The speaker hissed again.

He unwillingly rose to his feet, shaking and limping as he went. Peter eventually made it to the door. It loomed over the man as if it were ready to eat him whole. This was it. He couldn’t pretend that he was ok anymore. The attempts to convince himself were futile at best.

He sat himself down in the clinical plastic chair places next to a stool. Once again he was alone with his thoughts.

The same door he had just walked through swung open to reveal a stout man with dark eyes. This man had a slight waddle and was full of pride. His hair was thinning but it was only noticeable in the harsh LED lights.

“Ello there sir. I’m Professor Davidson, but I prefer it if you called me Ernie,” the man slurred.

Ernie noticed Peter’s eyes darting side to side and losing breathe. Ernie smirked as he remembered where he had seen his patient before. His retriever dog, his snotty nosed little bleeder. As he uttered those words Peter became almost numb to the world surrounding him. He began hyperventilating and shaking. Seeing that wretched man who not only got away with attempted murder and who now has a career that could put him in charge of his well-being was too much for Peter, the injustice of it all crushed him.

Watching Ernie’s victim from years ago have such a strong reaction to him brought him nothing but pure joy.

Ernie waltzed over to Mr Watson, who was now on the floor quivering. He peered over at the man once as placid and respectable as a swan, cowering in an incredibly vulnerable fashion. Mr Davidson saw his chance to relive the terror carried out 20 years prior. Ernie poked and prodded Peter’s crippled body.

“Wanna try flying one final time Mr Watson? Do ya?” Ernie nagged with a wicked smile on his face.

Seeing as the doors were closed and the only possible escape was a high window, Ernie took his chance and kicked poor Peter. He was in such a state that the only sounds that came out from his mouth were whimpers and strained breaths. No screams. Not even a cry. If no one could hear little Mr Watson’s cries then no one could stop Ernie from being his childhood self. Ernie lowered himself to meet Peter’s eyes.

“You’re gonna get up and you’re not gonna make a scene are ya Mr Watson? Good,’ Ernie sneered.

Peter complied to Mr Davidson’s delight. The only thing that took some light away from Ernie’s fun was that Raymond wasn’t there to help. Raymond had taken his own life while he was in prison for an unrelated crime. Even with this in his mind, it didn’t prevent him from carrying out his malicious plan. The two shuffled over to the window. Around the building were trees and vines entertwined. That day the sky was particularly clear. The few clouds that did appear quickly were blown away into the vast blue above.

“See that window sill?’ Ernie said harshly turning Peter’s body so he faced it. The man nodded unwillingly.

“That’s where you’re gonna stand. Now don’t you worry Mr Watson my friend, I’ll be right here to catch you if you fall,’ Ernie giggled whilst nudging him even closer to the window. Ernie knew deep down inside this was wrong but if he could do it without any protest, then why not? Professor Davidson opened the window with great force. The familiar sound of cars and people chattering entered the room. The mediocraty of these noises calmed Peter just enough for him to get placed slowly onto the window sill.

“1…2…3!’ Ernie exclaimed shoving Peter’s legs forward just enough to jump start his heart. Ernie howled at the site of little Peter Watson’s face.

“Let’s do that again shall we Peter? I thought that was mighty fun. 1…2.”

As Ernie reached to push Peter to the edge of the sill, nothing hit his hands. No sparrow thin legs or torn jeans. Only one of two things could have happened: Peter had learnt teleportation or Peter Watson had taken flight once more. Ernie looked over the ledge to see Peter’s limp body on the pavement. He gasped, covering his mouth to muffle the shock. He had done it this time. Torturing little Peter was one thing but pushing him to the point of which he willingly fell three floors to end his suffering was another.

“Oh my God! Someone call for an ambulance! Please someone!” a woman cried from below.

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