Waiting was difficult. William Cox lit another cigarette; the only light burning amber in a black apartment. His hand shook. There was no going back now.

A streetlamp flickered red far below Cox’s living room window. He sat next to the thick pane of glass, inhaled deeply. Cars rolled by, and rain began to fall upon them, tiny drops of blood under the streetlamp.

Cox had forgotten what rain felt like upon his skin. He had thought about opening the window once, but…

The shrill cry of the telephone cut through him. His heart nearly fell from his chest. It rang again. Cox thought about not answering, pretending he was – what? Not home? It would never work. Greyson was too swift for that.

“H-Hello?” Cox could feel his voice shaking. He was holding the receiver too tightly.

“Good evening, William.” The voice on the other end was strong; the antithesis of Cox’s weakness.

“Hey,” he breathed. He made his way to his favorite easy chair, the one with all the holes he’d never repaired. He knew what they were going to talk about, but he didn’t want to face it – not yet. He tried to change the subject. “You always call me William, doc. Why not call me Cox?”

He could hear a slight chuckle on the other end. “Formalities, I suppose,” Greyson answered. “I will call you Cox if you prefer.”

Moments of silence passed.

“Cox, I sense that you are avoiding the reason for this phone call.”

William took a puff from his cigarette, letting the ashes scatter. He watched as their tiny flames burned and died. “What do you mean?” He was trying to drag it out.

“I realize that you have a certain degree of fear this evening, but we’re going to work through it.” Greyson seemed so calm.

“A certain degree of fear, doc? I haven’t been outside these four walls in six years! You’re damn right I have fear!” Cox dropped his cigarette.

“Good, good. Embrace your anger. It’s the first step to recovery.” Greyson’s voice was sickly sweet. It only made Cox angrier, but he decided not to speak at all.

“Listen to me, Cox. We have been having these ‘phone sessions’ for the entire six years now, right?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. A small hole was burning into the carpet.

“Do you trust me?”

“Trust is a very strong word, doc.” Cox crushed the cigarette with his foot.

“Fine, forget trust then,” the doctor tried. “Do you believe me when I tell you that you can do this?”