C7 What just happened?

CAMILLA

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I swore on my life, I was going to give him a taste of his own medicine. My brows furrowed as I looked down at him. Even in a wheelchair, he still managed to be so rude.

I know that I have gotten my share of rude and stuck up clients, or patients in my life. But for some reason, this one just annoyed me more.

He pricked all the hairs on my skin, and I was beyond irritated.

I opened my mouth to say something, when Antonio walked in, with a wad of files.

I was surprised to see so many papers. When I heard him say "doctors" I was imagining just two, or three. But with the wad of files he dropped on the table in front of me, after offering me a chair, I could tell that I was in for a big surprise.

"Please, have a seat miss. What would you like me to offer you? Coffee? Tea? Soda?" He asked.

It was the first time he was being polite to me. Perhaps, because he was performing his "butler duties." I looked up from the pile of papers on the desk in front of me.

I did not notice that I had my jaw dropped and my mouth half open, until his eyes dropped to my lips.

I closed my mouth, cleared my throat and adjusted my sitting posture.

"I'm not sure she wants anything Antonio. She won't be long after all." Ivan said aloud.

I bit my lip hard to stop myself from hurling insults at him, and dropping the papers on his lap; because I knew that he had the power to make sure I never practiced psychotherapy again.

However, I did not understand why his being pricked me so much. He was not the first unresponsive patient I was meeting, and frankly, I knew that he would not be the last. Not everyone enjoyed being helped, or allowed themselves to admit that they had a problem. So why did his turn annoy me so much?

I turned to Antonio and forced a smile.

"Soda would be fine please. Any flavor but apple, thank you."

Antonio nodded at me, and left the room in the same exit he had come in.

I swallowed hard and leaned into the table. Ivan was still in his wheelchair, at the other end of it.

I picked up the first file, and looked over the doctor who had compiled it.

Evans Swivels.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

I gasped, and my hands flew to my mouth. My eyes widened as I stared down at the paper.

In front of my eyes, was a file compiled by my role model. The greatest psychologist of all time as far as I was concerned. Watching his documentary in high school was one of the factors that caused me to pick interest in psychology.

I couldn't believe it.

Mr Ivan Holloway had Evans as a doctor? And he was still this way? Did I really have any hope?

I dropped the file with shaky hands, on an empty spot on the table.

"No apple huh? You're allergic?" Ivan's voice rang in my ears. But I couldn't afford to take my eyes off the papers in front of me.

Melinda Bates.

Thomas Rash Ford.

Swetlana Matthews.

All these were great names in the field. He must have paid thousands of dollars to have them here.

Hell! I would literally never wash my floors again if any of them ever stepped foot into my house.

Yet, here he was, sitting on his wheelchair and staring at me like legends had not tried to work on him, and he was still like this.

I swallowed hard as my eyes rose up to meet him.

Perhaps he was right, perhaps I did not have a chance.

I cleared my throat and met with his cold blue eyes.

"No...uhmm, yeah, it gives me rash."

He scoffed and turned away from me. I couldn't tell what he was looking at, cause there were a million and one questions in my head.

What had screwed him so badly, that even the miracle workers in the field could do nothing about it?

My mind was racing in ways I never thought possible. One thing was certain; once I got back home, I was going to have to run a thorough background check on him.

"I don't believe I paid you to stare at me." He spoke again, and I blinked twice.

What was it with this man anyway?

I sat up and leaned into the table.

"I am rather..."

"Alarmed? You really should be."

I sighed, tried hard not to roll my eyes, took in deep breaths before I continued.

I would not lose my temper, I would not give him what he wanted.

"No, but I'm concerned." I spoke up, and glanced back at the papers on the desk.

"You have had the special services of the best of the best in this field and yet..."

I saw his jaw harden and his face contorted with anger. His already dark eyes darkened all the more as he furrowed his brows at me.

His intense stare sent shivers down my spine; and no. Not the kind you got from nerve wracking orgasms.

"Yet what?" He barked out, and I was confused.

I didn't know what to tell him.

"And yet, you're...not okay." I blurted out, unsure of what to say, or what I had just said.

"You think there's something wrong with me? You think I'm mad?!" He screamed at the top of his voice and I must say, even I was taken aback by the sudden switch.

I was supposed to be used to things like this, but there was something in depth and raw about his anger that caused my stomach to turn.

His hands began to shake violently, and Antonio ran back into the room. He must have been alerted by the sound of Ivan's scream.

"Are you okay sir?!" Antonio called aloud, as he stepped into the room..

He turned to me, with a desperate and worried look in his eyes.

"What did you say to him?!" He rushed to Ivan, who was visibly vibrating in his seat.

"Get him water." I said out loud, as I stood up.

Even I was scared; for him, for myself.

Antonio turned back to me, and frowned.

"You have to leave."

My eyes widened.

"What?"

"You have to leave! now!"

"But, I can help, that's what I'm here to do, just allow me..."

"Get out!" Ivan was the one who screamed at me this time.

My heart pounded against my chest. I stared down at him, then back to Antonio.

There was nothing I could do here, not anymore.

I picked up my bag, turned on my heels and hurried out of the house.

What the hell just happened?