Dr. Smith sat back in his chair and scratched the black stubble on his chin, studying his patient. "Jonathan I would like you to describe your front door."
"Huh? Why?" I asked, I was already aggravated by his questions. I come here for help, not to be interrogated.
"It will help me understand your motivations. In other words it will help me understand why you do what you do."
I inhaled and flared my nostrils, trying to sooth the anger. I could feel it boiling in pit of my stomach. Why does this man want know why I do what I do?
"Jonathan, please describe your front door."
I nodded, biting my bottom lip, and flashes of green popped into my mind. "OK. It rectangle, just like every other door I ever went through, you know just like the door there," I said, and pointed at the oak stain door on the other side of the room, with it's fancy designs, as if Dr. Smith thinks he some special person or something. And an image popped into my mind, of me ripping down the door and pouring gasoline on it, and pissing on it as the door went up in flames. I hate that door, and every time I walk through it my gut wrenches.
Dr. Smith forced a small. "Go on."
I rolled my eyes. "Like I said it is rectangle, and it has two squares at the top and two squares at the bottom, and two rectangles in the middle of the door. It has brass knob, but not a round knob, but a handle."
"Very good Jonathan. What color is your door?"
"Green."
"Hmm..." he grunted, and scribbled in his notebook. I hate that notebook.
"What?" I asked.
He crinkled his eyebrows. "Excuse me."
"You said hmm, what does that mean?"
Dr. Smith took a long hard look at me, and then looked down at his note book, and scribbled.
"A note," he said, and continued to scribble.
"Why?"
He laid his notebook on his lap and with a patient smile, he said, "I'm a Psychiatrist Jonathon, and it is my job to keep detailed notes on my patience. Now tell me why did you decide to get a green door?"
I looked up the ceiling as I laid on my back. Why had I gotten a green door? It's ugly as mud, and yet I refuse to change it's color. "I don't know," I said.
Dr. Smith studied me for a moment, and scribbled in the stupid notebook of his. Dam that notebook, I ought to rip it out of his hands and stomp on it.
Dr. Smith narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. "Why do you want to stomp on my notebook Jonathon?"
"Um..." I was tongue tied, I hadn't realized I said it out loud.
"Do think I am judging you, Jonathan?"
"Um... I... don't know. That's thing I don't know anything anymore."
Dr. Smith rubbed his chin, that stupid prominent chin, cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, making contact with my pupils. "Jonathan do you know why your here?"
I fought the urge to look away. "Um... I..." I stammered, for some reason I couldn't remember. Why was I here? "I'm sure you'll give me a history lesson," I said.
Dr. Smith let my remark roll away without so much as twitch. "Jonathan you work at the observatory across town correct?"
"Yes. Write that in your history book."
He grunted, and scribbled. Dam him. "And do you remember what happened last week?"
"No," I said, and broke from his gaze, aggravated that no matter what smart remark I made it never effected him. "Should I?"
"Jonathan It is very important that you try to remember. I'm here to help you Jonathan." he laid his notebook in his lap. "Now I want you to close your eyes and try to remember last Wednesday. You went to work and showed up at your office. Now try to remember what you saw."
I bit my bottom lip. I didn't like where this was going. Who cares about last Wednesday?
"Close your eyes Jonathan and think about that day when you arrived at work."
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to jerk them open.
"Now keep your eyes closed and listen to my voice Jonathan. Relax and be comfortable. Let your body sink into the cushions and as you listen to my voice focus your attention on last Wednesday night as you arrived at your office. Let your subconscious mind imagine that night and recall what you had seen. Relax and listen to my voice. As you listen focus your attention..."
I tried to fight his voice, but I was falling, sinking deeper into the cushions as relaxation overcame me. I was somewhere between sleep and awake. I could hear is voice directing me, telling me to relax and focus, and deeper into the cushions I sunk, drifting into the subconscious mind. I was standing outside the observatory, and lying on the concrete steps leading to the entrance was a mangled shoe...
I was standing outside the observatory, and lying on the concrete steps leading to the entrance was a mangled shoe, a white ladies tennis shoe. I thought of Maria Lakes. She wore the same style. I focused on the black scuff marks running the length of the shoe as I knelt down to pick it up. I twisted it in my hand and yelped and dropped the shoe. Small droplets of blood was splattered on the heel. My gut churned as bile rose up my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, this couldn't be real. I flared my nostrils as I inhaled and the air was ripe with copper smell. I swallowed the bile and forced my eyes open.
"Please let her be OK," I whispered, repeating, "please." over and over.
I walked in a wide arc to avoid the shoe and let myself in through the entrance. Maria's desk stood just to the right of the foyer, her computer was on, but no sign of Maria.
"Maria?" no answer.
"Maria are you here?" I listed. Silence. Against my better judgment I walked forward, it was the only time I could remember hearing my footsteps echoing off the walls. I rounded her desk and stopped. My jaw opened, slack with terror. My eyes widen as tears spilled over the lids. Maria lay naked and face first in a pool of blood, her skin blotch and pale. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run and call for help. But my body locked, refusing to obey the commands from my brain. A gargled moan escaped my lips. Bile rose up in my throat and bitter tasting greenish brown fluid ran out of my mouth, rolled down my chin, and dripped to the floor. I couldn't breath. The pressure of the air pressed down on me was to much and stumbled backwards, my hands finding support on her desk, and right before I past out I saw her t-shirt on the desk, and pressed down on the sleeveoff her shirt was a paper weight, a glass pyramid, and underneath was a note. Then I was falling. Light flashed as my head hit the concrete floor, followed by a loud ringing. I thought about her body lying naked in a pool of blood and the her shirt with the paper weight on the sleeve. I gargled as the corners of my vision blurred...
Note
This is the first chapter of a story I am writing using 
If you read it, wow! Thank You.
I made no corrections to errors. Only corrected misspelled words and markdown tags. Sometime in the future I plan to come back and giver it a proper edit and fix errors. Thank You.
@freewritehouse@mariannewest for the freewrite challenge.
@shanedustin