"Don't touch that!" Chelsy paced back and forth across the polished hardwood floor. The two-inch heels of her toeless slippers created an irritating cadence. Dr Presper Fonswood observed his patient with an inquisitive eye, trying to ignore the click, click, clicking sound that grated upon his ear. His gaze lowered to the object of Chelsy's distress his curiousity piqued. The box appeared nothing more than a small pillbox, but to Chelsy, it ovbiously held a greater meaning. It lay harmlessly between them, a pastel florid upon the mahogany coffee table. "As you wish Chelsey." Presper told her, twirling a pen between dexterous fingers. "I am sorry, Presper." She offered, wringing her hands within the cotton fabric of a purple night robe. "I haven't been sleeping very well these past few nights." "What is bothering you Chelsy?" Presper asked in his most persuasive voice. Chelsy looked at him, her lovely lavender eyes appeared as hollows within a delicate face, a face Presper secretly adimired. "I can prescribe you something. . ." "No!" Chelsy wailed. She stopped pacing long enough to stare at him in disbelief and horror. Presper sensed that there was much more going on here than the mere presence of a pillbox. "If I am going to help you, you must cooperate Chelsy." He lifted a brow in censure. "Do you not agree?" Chelsy nodded in assent. She began to pace again. Presper waited for what seemed an eternity, before Chelsy finally spoke. "I don't know what you will think of me, but if I tell you Presper. . ." She gazed at him, a plea for understanding, doubt, and fear assailed him from within those orbs. "You must promise not to have me comitted somewhere." He was at her side before her statement was complete, "Chelsy! You must trust me. Haven't I always been there for you?" She nodded again. "But this time, it is different." "I would never have you committed. I care about you. You know that. Don't you?" Her gaze sought the pill box. Her body shook visibly as she reached for the tiny object, which obviously frightenend her beyond rational reasoning. Presper grasped her hand, holding it tight. "I'll help you Chelsy. We can both pick up the pillbox together. What do you say to that?" "I'm not so sure that is a good idea." She warned. "Of course it is. I'll show you there is absolutely nothing to fear." She hesitated for a moment, "If You're absolutely sure Presper." "I am sure." He nudged her hand closer, the fragile appendage trembling beneath the weight of his touch. "Perhaps it is the best way to make you understand." Presper had no idea what she meant by that statement. But the sense of danger came too late, for the moment their hands touched the small, insignificant little pillbox, he found himself in a whirlwind of keleidoscopic colors, following Chelsy headfirst into a tunnel which led to God only knew where. . .his only consolation. . .Chelsy survived and he would too. . .
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