No amount of praying would move the minute hand any faster; the clock continued its merciless ticking along the doctor's adjacent wall, each second being flagged by an insensitive click. The duo sat in opposing spots, silent, neither one willing to make a noise given the awkward atmosphere. After all, a veteran can only say so much, sometimes.
"Now Alex..."
"Doc, I'm trying. That's the third time you've asked." Alex rebuffed in a hushed voice, hoping that this time his doctor would take the hint -- there's just no way he'll get him to talk today. To hell with his hard-earned money, this was enough: the idea that a trained psychologist was on hand for any potential trigger incidents, if only for an hour or two.
The professional pressed a hard frown upon his lips before shaking his head in sour defeat. Free money or not, he was in this field to help. Staying quiet and waiting for a miracle was not on his job description. "It's your money."
"Yeah, that's right." and soon enough, silence. The process seemed to be doomed to repeat. But then Alex sat up slowly, turning his legs towards the edge of his plush, reclining sofa. The man leaned into his open hands and released an anguished sigh into his warm, supple palms. "You know, I'm sorry."
"An apology?" his doctor recoiled in subtle surprise. This change of event prompted Alex's psych specialist to recall the first few details his patient explained about himself.
I'm unapologetic, I'm not gonna say it's my fault. Chances are it's just not my fault, or my problem. And of course such attitude was alarming, however for a person like Alex, normal. So finding Alex coming up with a sincere 'sorry' seemed like an unexpected foul ball for a lucky catch.
"...Yeah, I feel..." Alex gingerly pointed out, his voice fading away out of reticence but like hell would his helper let him go out so easily.
"Don't be shy, it's what you're here for." the man edged on, hoping Alex would drop his walls.
"...Her name's Rachel."