Rainbow Bullets

January 31, 2008
By Sara Fiorentino, Clearwater, FL

The icy room was vacant. The floor was covered with off white carpet. There had to only be about five chairs and a few end tables. The walls held a bright white color along with the doors blending in. Two shinny silver doorknobs accented the room quite well. With my rusty eyes, that was all that I could see from my seat. A feeling of being alone flue over me as I sat still in a black and gray chair, my mother had left the room a good time ago. She felt the urge to go in first to evaluate Dr. Jordan. The newly found therapist seemed a bit fishy to her. She found him to look a little too young to be taking the minds of teens in his hands. Along with my last therapist she grew a nature to not trust people so easily. He had passed away in a, oh so tragic, drugs store hold up. Before I got into anything to stressful I let it all slip my psyche. At that moment there seemed to be a lot of things messing around up there. I didn’t have time to stop and wonder whether a therapist was buying illegal drugs or not. For this loss, I didn’t morn too much. Losing him was like losing a pencil, just replace it. Either way, I didn’t care for people. With this I never really talked to others and spent most of my time alone. Having school breathing down my neck at the moment, gave me very little time for others.

As soon as my dragging eyelids hit the bottoms of my eyes the blended door opened softly and my eager mother stepped out speaking.

“Thank you.” Her face had held a cheap look of suspicion. As soon as I heard her expensive high heels click off of the tile in the room I slowly opened my eyes to see her hovering above me. Her smile had faded and her eyes sharpened stiffly.

“You may come in now, Dorian.” My eyes moved quickly from my mother to a towering man standing at the threshold of the other room. He had light features to his face and lanky body. His hair shined in a light brown color under the yellow lights. He had a soft smile covering his lips. He also seemed to look a bit older than me, maybe nineteen. I was seventeen at the time. Dr. Jordan, of which I was guessing, tilted his rouged face towards to the other room. I stood slowly in front of my mother and without saying a word I quickly jolted from my warm seat to Dr. Jordan.

“I swear, I don’t bite” He proclaimed softly wile drifting his hand to a rather bright couch. The vibrant colors shined proudly and so did almost everything else in the rainbow tinted space. After he nodded once more for me to sit down, I took a seat on the couch and ran my left hand along the seams. I was feeling quite nerves, the reason being for being nerves was unknown.

My eyes drifted slowly to him as he sat there with his legs crossed, looking down at his sheet of blank paper. At this time I noticed his facial features. His hair was slightly short and messy, he had dark pools of brown in his eyes and his smile was light, almost like it wasn’t there. He looked a bit Asian, and looked much different from me.

I guess my own looks weren’t all too bad, a typical Canadian. I enjoyed my naturally black shaggy hair, my deep blue eyes and the way my mouth looked when I didn’t smile, I don’t smile often so that would be a very noticeable feature to my looks.

“How are you?” As he spoke I ignored his questions, seeing as I had not a clue of how to answer. With the want to change the subject, I wanted to know his name; it was bothering me quite a bit.

“What is your name?” I asked before answering his first question, maybe I wouldn’t have to.

“Dillon,” he paused for a moment, “and you are Dorian right?” I nodded softly with a small smile. For a moment I wondered how he knew my name, but then I was reminded what I was here for, and that the paper he was looking upon was no longer blank.

“That’s a nice name,” I said as I turned my head to the fairly clean window. It had white drapes that fluttered as a cool breeze flue in from the open air outside. I liked his name, and the way he said it. Dillon was a name that was common, but so far it fit him well. I found my name, Dorian, to be quite boring, nothing to playful or classy there.

“Thank you,” the other male said with a voice of an angel. How he voice changed snapped me for my dazing glair out the open window. I should have said ‘your welcome’ but I didn’t.

“So, shall we start from where your last doctor left off?” He had asked his question is such a voice that made it hard to say no to. With that, I nodded my head in one motion. Dillon soon began speaking about what my last therapist had thought about me in his comments at the end of each visit paper. The things he said were shocking, but I didn’t dwell on it to much at the time.

“Last, but not least, there was one nice comment that he left,” he paused a moment, “it is a bit inappropriate, but I think you should here it.” Dillon looked to me with one eyebrow raised slightly. “Dorian is a nice looking boy, any girl would be lucky to have him as a trophy.” As he looked up from the papers he gave a small laugh at the strange look I had on my face. With that I was wondering if my last therapist had caught on to me and my ‘different’ sexuality, it sounded like he didn’t.

“That pervert,” I said with a smirk on my lips and my eyes pointed out the window, again.

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This article has 1 comment.

kelley_gurl said...
on Jan. 3 2010 at 8:30 am
this relly didnt hav a plot!!!!!!!!! but keep goin!! :)

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