Chapter I
Wet Rose Prelude
Darkness started melting through autumn raindrops sensitively scratching windows pestered with coldness. The city of Gratewill woke up on the chest of wet evening, smelling like memories of childish craziness.
It was raining gently, feeling like the nature was getting ready to burst in tears and overflow all day distress over a sleepy city. The coming night could mean a lot for people but Darius Gates was feeling nothing but warm waves, softly blown by the fireplace and whiskey cleaning his throat, time to time checking his watch as he was waiting for a late patient.
The last drop from a squared glass touched his lip when knock on the door made him abandon the chair. The only thing his profession and psychologist's mission were promising was a next boring conversation with a new patient, but when he opened the door the beauty standing behind it suspended all around, except for his feelings and passions. Describing her beauty, cuteness and disguised wildness would be harder than making a politician tell the truth but all he needed to do was to let her in. Even standing on small, cute leather high heels, in white stockings, purple summer dress, short white coat and chamomile in her hair, she still looked like a little angel, barely over eighteen.
Pearl necklace around her neck and her breast, rising up and down as she was breathing, were making her disguised passion even more noticeable. And finally, in her blue eyes the only reflection he could see was the dream about her cute, soft, red, warm lips.
"I'm sorry, is this Dr. Darius' office? I'm Delilah Swift. My dad's secretary, Mrs. Pitcher, has scheduled the appointment." She asked, moving her head to the right and to the left, like she wanted to see the room environment over his shoulders.
"Yes, of course. Please, come in." He answered seriously, trying to keep the first conversation on the level of professional approach. He moved from the threshold and let her enter his cave as he loved to joke about it.
She was very young but her womanly refined manners and walking style made him pay attention to her cute, nicely formed legs disappearing into the dress like the pincers of passion, ending with round shapes that could be yet easily noticed even under the coat.
She crossed the room with slow but self-confident steps, left her coat on the hanger and lay down on the recliner chair. It seemed she knew perfectly what she was doing and it was not her first time of psychological therapy.
He took his seat in the armchair beside her and didn't say anything for a while, just researching her reactions and thoughts. She was surprised of comparing the Dr. Darius' office to those typical offices she had visited before.
The smell of old books was creating great mixture of scents together with the air saturated with evaporated whiskey. He was sipping his drink and the smell of it was easily incising into her mind, helping her to relax. Somehow, he was not amazed to catch her stolen looks, probably because he knew that his astonishing appearance had been intimacy snare for many women. Her attempts to take her eyes away from him were failing every time she wanted not to notice how special he was. Just like his room he was unordinary, different from other doctors, people, everything and everyone she had met before. For a man in his thirties he looked very young, probably because of his calm face, well-build body that could remind of brazen statue created to hold women's souls and never let them go.
Little, shiny reflection of fireplace in his dark black eyes and his deep voice were creating the personality she could fall for. They met just five minutes ago but gravity between them was growing into tension she could not explain.
"I guess it shouldn't be your first visit to psychologist..." He started gently gaining her trust.
"Right..." She said as if she could not feel any sorrow or anything at all. She was calm and senseless but realizing he was not going to reply back - she kept talking: "Maybe there is nothing you or anyone can help me with... maybe I'm just crazy... or the most normal person in the world... I'm not sure, but we all have our own cross to carry up to Golgotha, pains that don't let us sleep, don't let us dream... and yet, nothing is worse than the feeling of feeling emptiness, neither happiness - nor sadness..." She took a breath and looked at him, as if she was starving for his reply and help.
He kept silent, watching her with narrowed eyelids, whimsically, sipping on his drink again. It was her first time meeting an unordinary psychologist, acting like he did not even care about what she was saying. He was not questioning her or giving the tests which could never tell anything really helpful.
She could feel that he was constantly checking on her with hungry eyes but that did not make her feel uncomfortable. On the contrary, believing that he wasn't even paying attention to her words, she decided to open up finally and share the scars of her heart:
"Every day, all I think about is if there is a boat capable to get me on another side of the river. I'm confused and I'm tired of everything, tired of every single pain I don't want to remember about.
Falling in love and then falling from the sky, death of my mom who had been my best friend, everyday stresses and routines, and then again I feel tired to fix my feelings, I feel tired of struggling, I'm drained from emotional energy and even when I look all healthy and strong, deep inside all I feel is tired emptiness of spliced feelings, senses and instincts...
I've been trying to grow strong and fight all that and I guess I won but now all I feel is nothing... and the only fear left in my heart is to die without feeling a sunrise one more time... be already dead for the time when the death will come on a visit."
Darius noticed her trembling lips. She sounded calm, but she was lying about becoming insensible. He was calling her condition Assuaged Depression, similar to a person who gets beat up so hard that it does not hurt anymore. She was trying to go through over eighteen problems when life becomes so serious that a person stands on the borderline of the heaven and the hell.
