MAD OVER YOU

Darrel

I'd barely been able to grab a bottle of water when Constance, my assistant, strolled in.

"Your next patient has arrived, Darrel," she informs me.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, I replied, "Let them in."

Sipping from the bottled water, my gaze follows the young man who had just walked in.

He had dark hair and was dressed in a gray checkered shirt and brown shorts.

"Good afternoon, Doc," he greets, taking a seat right across from me. Immediately he settles down, his gaze drops to the floor—avoiding eye contact with me.

I pulled out his file that was buried in a heap of other documents on my desk.

Flipping through the pages, I take in his information.

"It says you're 21 years old, Mr. Aiden," I revealed.

"Yes, I am."

His file didn't state his problem. Apparently, the patient had requested that it be disclosed when we met one-on-one.

Glancing up from his file, I asked, "Would you like to tell me what brought you here today, Mr. Aiden?"

"I think I have obsessive-compulsive disorder," he admits.

"Oh wow. That must have been tough for you to admit."

He nods, "Believe me, Doc. It is."

I scribbled down this newfound information about my patient in his file.

"What kind of obsession do you have?" I asked. "Is it towards an object or—"

"It's towards a person," he interrupts.

I quirked my brow. "A person? Could you kindly elaborate in detail?"

"At first, I started observing this person out of curiosity," he begins. "At my age, there's not much going on. You fail job interviews over and over again. And when you think you've finally reached the bottom, you find someone who is like a breath of fresh air. That's what he was to me."

He'd made this person a false god to him. This was worse than I thought.

"Do you mind if I ask who this person is?" I asked.

For the first time since Aiden walked into my office, he gazed up at me.

"It's you," he reveals.

An uncomfortable silence suddenly fills the air. Did he perhaps hear me wrongly?

"You seem to have misunderstood my question, Aiden."

"No. I didn't, Doc," he clarifies. "I saw you once at a café, Café Noir, three months ago. You ordered an Americano. Two packets of sugar. Then, you sat by the window sipping your coffee as you read a book."

I froze. I remember that day, but I don't recall seeing Aiden then.

"I watched you out of curiosity at first," he continued. "Before I knew it, it had turned into a routine. I'd wake up every morning by 6:30 a.m.—the same time you did—to watch you start your day. On days when you could spare breakfast before coming to work, you'd whisk up whole-grain toast with fried eggs."

"I always wondered what you looked forward to every day after you broke up with your girlfriend Leah three months ago because she cheated on you. Wherever you went, I followed like a dog without a owner—" 

"Stop!" I yelled, feeling goosebumps crawling up my skin at the realization that I've had a stalker watching my every move and hadn't been aware until now.

With trembling hands, I admitted, "You need treatment."

"I know," Aiden replies with a smile. "That's why I'm here, Doc. So...how are you going to treat me?"

Pulling out the desk telephone, I called the cops. It takes them a while to get to my office.

"I want this man arrested for stalking me," I say immediately when the cops arrive. "He violated my rights."

The officer turned to face Aiden. "Is that true, young man?"

"It's not," he replies. "We just happened to be at the same places by coincidence. I think the Doc here has a bit of anxiety."

My jaw dropped. "You literally confessed to stalking me a few hours ago."

"Is there evidence to back up your claim, Doc?" the cop asked.

I remained silent.

"We'll conclude this as a misunderstanding," the officer declares. Pulling Aiden's arms, he says, "Let's go, kid. You're obviously making the Doc uncomfortable."

Aiden's gaze lingers on me—a gaze that screamed he wasn't done with me yet. One that was sure to haunt me for the rest of today.

After a short while, he followed the cop out of my office. Constance, my assistant, entered.

"Mr. Darrel, you have another—"

"I'm done for the day," I said, cutting her off as I cleared up my desk and strolled out of my office. I couldn't work in this condition.

Not after knowing that someone had literally been obsessing over me. From the office, I didn't head straight home either.

I lodged at a hotel and worked remotely from there. Just like that, a week passed with nothing out of the ordinary happening.

I'd thought it was all over until I got home and realized that someone had been in here. The books on my bookshelf were slightly shifted.

Moving to my bedroom, my bedsheets were creased. Obviously, someone had laid down on my bed and didn't even make an effort to hide it.

When I got to the office, my mind ran a million scenarios of who could have possibly broken into my home. Was it a coincidence or on purpose?

"Your next patient is here, sir," Constance announces, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are you alright, Doc Darrel?"

I nod. "I am. As for the patient, let them in."

"Understood, sir."

As Constance takes her leave, my mind wanders off again. It couldn't possibly be that patient, right?

He hadn't shown up in a week. Everything was back to normal now...right?

"You seem to be lost in your thoughts," a familiar voice says.

Gazing up, it was him. That fucking stalker. He plops down onto the same chair he'd sat on a week ago.

"Can I get a penny for your thoughts, Doc?" he asked.

This was probably amusing to him. But I wasn't going to play his games. He was here as a patient, so I couldn't just send him away.

Rather, we'd spend the next hour of his session in silence.

"Your bed is very comfortable. I lay on it for a while last night," Aiden says calmly, as though he was telling the weather.

I froze. So, I wasn't imagining things. He had indeed been in my house. The silent treatment wasn't going to work anymore.

"You broke into my home?"

"Not broke into," he corrects gently. "I've known the password to your house for a long time now. I'd always been respecting your privacy, which is why I never entered—until now, that is. Now that you know about me, I intend to make my advances a little bolder."

He'd been respecting my privacy? What a load of crap!

"You're sick."

"By the way, Doc. Those black pair of underwear pants you changed into bed last night?" A slow smile spreads across his face. "I really liked them."