15

GLYNDON This is crazy. He’s crazy. I've been well aware of that fact since the first time I met him, but I’m one hundred percent sure now. There’s no doubt about his psychosis. My fingers clench and I slide them against my shorts, then fish out my phone and tap the number called ‘Emergency.’ It rings once. Twice. And then he picks up with a half-sleeping voice. “Hello? Glyndon?” The older male voice speaks with its usual warmth. “Are you there?” “Um, yeah. Sorry if I woke you up.” “No, I was just watching TV and dozed off. Where are you? It sounds noisy.” “I’m outside with friends.” I kick an imaginary pebble. “It’s coming back, Dr. Ferrell. I can’t… I can’t control it anymore.” “That’s okay. Breathe.” His voice sobers up, sounding soothing like that first time Mum took me to him at my request. Ever since my early teens, I suffered with a huge inferiority complex and I couldn’t survive in our household without the need to do something nefarious. It didn’t matter how much my parents tri