There was no arguing. Doctor Greyson was right; he was always right. Cox was sick of looking at the inside of his apartment. He was tired of his work at home Internet job. He didn’t want his groceries delivered anymore. Every time he gazed out his window, he was reminded of an entire world he was missing. But he was afraid; afraid he’d see it…

“I just need a few more minutes,” Cox said. “Stay on the line with me?”

“Of course,” Greyson agreed. “Now, and all through your big steps. You’re not alone, Cox.”

For some reason, that was comforting. William reached for the small table that held his box of Camels. He lit another one, his hands still shaky.

“You know,” Greyson began, “It might help to talk about what happened once more.”

“Why?” Cox took a drag off the cigarette. The warmth calmed his nerves.

“The panic attacks are triggered by fear, and the fear is caused by this memory. Each time you tell the story, a bit more of your burden is released. The more of the memory you release, the less likely you are to fear.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Cox was trying to avoid it.

“Yes it does.” A pause. “Where would you like to begin?”

William was sprawled out on his couch now, his cigarette still lighting the room.

“I was twelve years old, and I remember it plain as day,” he began. In his mind, William saw himself as a young man; skinny and tall. He had never had any fear at all – well, except for the fear of God and the fear of his pop. Bible school saw to the fear of God, and a black leather belt saw to the fear of his pop. Everything else was nothing, until that one day…

“What happened then, Cox?” Greyson coaxed.

“Everything changed when Mrs. McAffey died.”

William Cox was always getting into trouble back then; he had been a sucker for dares. His momma used to tell him that one day, he would do something so bad, that the devil would send one of his henchmen to take Billy to Hell. After all, that’s where bad boys go.

“I’d just laugh,” Cox admitted. “It was funny, what parents used to say to get their kids to listen.”

“So you didn’t believe her.”

William puffed his cigarette to its bitter end, then closed his eyes. “Nah, not really.”

“What happened then?” the doc pressed.

“I had this friend Jackson…” Cox let himself drown in the recesses of his mind, places he hadn’t gone to in so long.

He could see the light of the sun shining on Jackson’s face as the boy grinned a toothless grin. They were outside Ol’ Lady McAffey’s place. No one had seen her for years. The adults called her a recluse. “Funny, now I’m the recluse,” Cox mused.