Lost Hearts

Chapter 1: Theres a First Time for Everything.

For all my life I have lived it with the simple saying “Never look back”, it has kept me going through the many lows I have faced so far. So, as I perch myself on this overstuffed leather chair, each small movement accompanied with squeaks, preparing to contradict the basis of my entire life, saying I was nervous would be an understatement.

Peering around the small reception, I took a moment to inspect the many used magazines scattered around the table, all of which from months back. I was sitting alone in the room, staring ahead at the single white door labelled “Dr Monnet”, apart from the table and leather chair the room was barren, kept very simplistic. Maybe for effect, or just lack of funds, I would like to believe it was for effect. I quickly ruffled my fringe; it was a nervous twitch of mine, if I was bored, tired, annoyed or nervous I would adjust it, only to put it back to normal a moment later.

I tilted my head towards the only painting on the wall, a collection of black lines shooting off in different directions with a basic white outline. I persisted to stare at that image until my eyes began to blur, at which point I adverted my eyes. That was a bad idea as the size of the tiny room was becoming more and more apparent with each second, the pale blue walls painted to calm and soothe slowly closing around me.

I clenched my hands around the leather, closing my eyes tightly while I wished to be elsewhere. In my own mind I found some peace, allowing my body to relax, breathing out after realizing I had been holding my breath the entire time. In times of stress or dire need people try and find a “happy place” within the recesses of their minds, I was not one of those people. Or so I thought I wasn’t, as I sat still memories began to blur before me. It felt like a long corridor of all my happiest moments, but I knew where I would end up…

Looking around my new surroundings, there I sat on a fallen tree. Autumn leaves surrounded my feet, rustling in the soft wind. It was cold, but I was wrapped up warm in my trademark green coat and fingerless gloves, the gloves were more of a fashion statement then protection from the elements. Also in my woolly hat, the one with fake fur and flaps either side keeping my flushed cheeks warm. Peering up to the sky, in the only place in the woods where the leaves do not block the vast soft grey skies above, finally realizing there is something in my hand. Not something… but someone, their soft fingertips touching mine. I can feel how cold their hand is, holding their hand tighter to share the warmth of my glove.

Bringing my head down from admiring the skies, I am met by the angel of my youth. She sits huddled next to me, the vast ocean concealed within her eyes, slowly keeps me adrift finding myself hopelessly lost within them. She begins to laugh, her soft cheeks blush out. Coating her perfectly shaped face in a gentle red glow, she begins to speak but I find myself admiring her full lips, as they part and close instead of listening. Laughing once more, part of her auburn hair flowing across her face, she has a failed attempt to flick it aside; aiding her with my spare hand I brush it aside. My hand lingers there longer then needed, but she doesn’t flinch or move away. In time we both begin to lean our heads forward, closing the short distance between our lips…

“Mr North’bey?”

Just like that, my “happy place” crumbled around me and the sharp pain of realisation became flowing back in chunks. Adjusting my fringe slightly, as my eyes flickered open to venture towards the direction of the voice. They were simply met by a short, stocky man.

He was rather plump to put it gently, his skin with a natural caramel tan to it, he wore a plain white shirt with an incredibly straight tie. His shirt was tucked into his trousers which looked almost painfully tight around his grand waistline. The pin striped pattern on his tie matched that of his trousers, it was overall rather professional attire. To say I was surprised when I saw his well groomed beard protruding from his cheeks would be a lie, he had a rather broad nose with thin framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His eyes sunk into his skull, a clear sign of his age, I would have guessed him to be around forty-five, but his pupils told a different story, they seemed to still be full of inquisitive life. It felt like I was being scanned up and down for knowledge or any little bit of information they could gather. He coughed into his hand, noticing I was in my own little trance, repeating himself once more.

“Mr North’bey?”

“Yes… that’s, that’s me.”

I had tried my best to seem relaxed, but I think both me and him knew I had failed. Standing slowly, I began to step towards the man. He presented his hand to me with a broad smile.

“Ah am Dr Monnet it’s real nice to meet you, Mr North’bey.”

“Yes… well, it’s Northby. Sorry.”

I couldn’t help but mumble my words, not even three minutes into meeting this man and I had to correct him. He narrowed his brow towards me, making me shuffle on the spot awkwardly before he bellowed out in laughter.

“Don’t be sorry, Lad. Please, come on in take tha seat.”

I did as ordered, muttering thanks as I followed Dr Monnet into his office. The colour scheme continued throughout the room, pale blue walls, wooden floor and limited furniture. The room had one large window, which were designed to flood the room with natural light; with the grey skies the light was minimal. As Dr Monnet took his seat behind his desk, a pen in hand and a notebook resting on his desk, he gestured for me to sit down. As I grew closer to my seat, I peered at all the objects on his glass desk; there was a set of pendulum balls knocking to and fro and a small metal sign which read. “Dr Monnet: Psychiatrist”. I sighed, lying down across the seat; it was more of a bed then a chair. I soon adjusted my hair before lowering my head back against the head rest.

“Now, how are you feeling?”

“Fine… thank you.”

My words were followed by a tut-ing from the bearded doctor, leaning forward in his chair while his hand proceeded to scribble words.

“Ah am here to help, but if you will not be honest with me we wont get nowhere. Alright lad? So, how are you feeling?”

I tensed up. Adjusting my fringe, I turned my attention to the ceiling. I wanted my happy place… I needed my happy place. But there would be no quick escape from this, so I admitted how I felt.

“Nervous… Uncomfortable. I am in a situation that I am not accustomed with. I would rather be elsewhere.”

I had expected that to be the end of that question and move away from this topic, but I was at a Psychiatrist what else was I to expect?

“Where would your rather be then?”

“Anywhere…”

There was only one place I would rather be… I had a feeling he had picked up on my lie, but I was grateful he didn’t try and pursue it.

“Well, it’s my job to make you comfortable and help relive stress. That’s why ah am here.”

An awkward silence fell across the room. Only to be broken by Dr Monnet flicking over a page in his notebook.

“Now, we both know why you are here. So, ah say we jump in head first.”

I gave him a short nod, interlocking my fingers together and resting them across my stomach. The fact he did know why I was here made me feel uneasy, sick even.

“Now, what is your earliest memory?”

This was looking back… I squirmed uncomfortably. Opening my mouth to speak, but words failed to seep out. I closed my eyes, temptation to run to that autumn day began to pop into my mind, but I needed to focus… this wasn’t about happy memories this was about what I could remember. Even after years of trying to forget…