The Apodictic Cure

The steam felt like sweat against her skin. Heavy. Weighing her down. Brielle sat, naked, with her knees pulled to her chest, just outside the spray of the shower head. She stuck her hand in, making a cup, and poured the water over her hair. It was the first real shower she'd taken in a couple weeks.

"Brielle, are you almost done?" Jessica called from the door, letting a cool draft in.

She's been in for over and hour, her fingers and toes were pruned, but she was surrounded by the sweet scent of pomegranates. Reluctantly, she stood and wrapped a fluffy white towel around herself.

Jessica entered with a long yellow dress, which Brielle dressed herself in and they walked to the rec center together to meet Andrew.

"Helloe." He greeted them with a smile. "You look refreshed.

"I am." Brielle murmured timidly.

The two had changed from sitting in two separate chairs to sitting on a three person couch, still as far away from one another as the seat would allow.

"Can I ask you something?" He inquired, playing nervously with the ends of his sleeves.

She tried to read him, but it was nearly impossible. "I suppose you can. Just because you can ask it, though, does not guarantee you and answer."

He smiled. "That's alright. I son't want to push you to do anything tat you're not comfortable with. He inched toward her, one hand up to show that he wouldn't touch her. "Why do you hate me?"

She stared at him a moment, not understanding how he didn't know the answer already. It was so obvious. "Because you're a man.

Andrew tapped his chin with his pointer finger in thought. "What did men ever do to you?"

"They ruined me!" Brielle could feel the blood rushing to her face. "They beat me, they raped me, and told me over and over again that I am not good enough. And worst of all they hurt my best friend! The raped and abused and took advantage of her and it drove her to madness. Even that damned man that she fell in love with; Even that wretched psychiatrist who was supposed to be helping her. You are all poison." She closed her eyes, flashbacks flooding her mind. "He blamed me for killing my baby and I was never good enough for my father." Tears sprung to her eyes and spilled from beneath their lids.

Hands clasped her shoulders and she leaned forward to cry. The arms extended and wrapped around her so that her face was in the crook of her console's neck. Hot breath blew onto her still damp hair and strong fingers caressed, tangling between strands.

"I'm not Michael, Brielle. I promise not to hurt you. Ever." His throat vibrated against her skull, startling her. She sprang back, but Andrew stayed where he was, letting his arms fall to his sides. He was sitting on his knees in front of the couch, his brown eyes glowing with concern.

"Why do you even care?" She whimpered, wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks.

"You already know my story, Brielle. I'm like you." He held out a hand to her which she did not take. "I know that when I was where you are, I would have loved someone to relate to and a hand to hold.

Her sunken eyes prickled. "You..." Her voice gave out.

She stood up and walked back to her room without Jessica and without saying goodbye.

That afternoon Dr. Jonson didn't arrange to see her. For a change, Brielle requested a meeting.

"I'm quite surprised that you wanted to see me today, Brielle. It's not often that you're actually willing to open up."

Brielle paced the office, trying to wrap her mind around what had occurred between her and Andres earlier. The unimaginable had happened.

She felt safe with him today.

She'd trusted him.