Rehabilitation - Part 13 free porn video

Rehabilitation - Part 13 Monday 17th March, 2020; 08:57 Given how long it had felt for that first week to pass, I was shocked that the second week seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Maybe it was because some sort of routine had been established, but things seemed to be moving along much smoother than before. My daily sessions with Miss Stevens continued - Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday sessions involved hypnotherapy, which usually lasted around an hour and left me feeling very calm and refreshed. I was starting to believe that I was actually being deeply hypnotised during these sessions, not just enjoying some catch-up sleep, as I was sleeping far better overnight now and not waking in discomfort from my chastity cage or a sexually confusing nightmare. The cage seemed to be fitting far more comfortably this week, and when I looked back I realised it was probably because it had been a good few days since my cock had tried to have an erection. It simply lay limp and dormant in its cage now, obviously having learnt it was going to be sealed in there for the foreseeable future. I wondered if the Anxigen was helping with my relaxation at all - it had been a while since I'd felt nervous or panicky as well. On Wednesday, Friday and Sunday my sessions with Miss Stevens took on quite a conversational tone - chatting about anything and everything, catching up on how Marcus and I were getting on - nothing too serious. Miss Stevens had even begun to identify some key learning I'd missed thanks to not paying much attention in school, such as spelling and maths (which I'd always struggled with), and had decided that some of my homework for her would be just that - homework of the sort you'd get from school. It felt utterly bizarre scribbling my way through a worksheet of spellings, laid on the top bunk in the evenings as Marcus frequently distracted me with idle conversation, but it was oddly nice too. Marcus continued to push me in the gym every day, although we still hadn't moved on from work focused on building up my core, legs and butt. I wondered how long it took to build this 'stable base and framework' he kept referring to, but I didn't question his logic. I'd never done much exercise before now, so it probably took a while to get to that stage from scratch. We'd worked out a routine with the showers as well, so Marcus could shield me and my chastity cage from the other prisoners, but unfortunately this came with the side effect of him standing very close to me whilst we were both naked. Every day I seemed to find myself admiring his muscular form more and more, wondering how much effort he'd put into honing his body to that degree, and wondering if I'd ever get to that stage. The only changes I'd noticed so far were my legs looking a bit slimmer and more toned, and my uniform feeling tighter around my thighs and butt. Strangely, too, my chest was starting to feel more tender as well. I couldn't quite explain it, but I put it down to the uniform chafing against my nipples during our workouts. I didn't feel comfortable enough to take my top off whilst working out like Marcus did on occasion, but I needed to find a solution soon - my nipples were beginning to look a little puffy and they felt increasingly sensitive. The other thing that was becoming a regular occurrence were the sports massages Marcus provided after our workouts. Far from the awkwardness of our first attempt, I was now getting used to the feel of his strong hands massaging their way up from my feet to my butt on a daily basis, and accepting that whilst it made my cock leak a little in its cage each time this wasn't something to feel weird about. In fact, to prevent the leakage staining my boxers and uniform bottoms we'd got into the practice of Marcus massaging me semi-naked, with just my prison top on and some toilet paper laid underneath my cage, and that was reducing mess by massive margins. I kept thinking to myself that these interactions seemed a slippery slope towards becoming Marcus' prison wife, but I knew these were silly worries and neither of us had any intention of going down that route. I'd be lying if I said I didn't still occasionally think of Marcus' big black cock and what he'd be capable of doing with it, but overall my libido was seeming more manageable - perhaps it had just been those first few days after being locked in chastity. I knew I wasn't gay. It had just been the circumstances of my situation. Marcus had received a visit from his younger sister Hannah on Thursday, and I'd been glad I'd been well out of the way being hypnotised by Miss Stevens. I'd still struggled to muster up the courage to admit to Marcus that I'd been part of the incident, and given how it sounded like he'd praised his new cellmate - me - to his sister, I was growing increasingly terrified that at one point she'd want to see me too - and then the illusion that all was well between us would tumble apart. I had to tell him at some point. Part of me thought the sooner the better, so he wouldn't get mad at me for keeping it a secret so long. The other part of me thought it was better to leave it, to give time for our friendship to build into something even stronger, one that could weather any misdemeanours I'd previously made. Either way, another week had passed without me mentioning it, and I didn't feel any closer to bringing it up yet either. In other news, I hadn't seen much more of Miss Stevens' fiance, Professor Adam Harper, but from my conversations with Miss Stevens it sounded like they were rapidly progressing with plans for their wedding. It sounded as if she was aiming for a winter wedding 9 months from now, and whilst my understanding was that normally it took longer than that to organise and book things for a wedding, if anyone was capable of such managerial skills I was certain Miss Stevens was. The brief times we spoke about her wedding plans were a nice divergence from our usual conversations, and reminded me of the wider world outside the confines of the prison. It was easy for the days to run into one in here, but talk of significant life events like a wedding stood out as something special. I'd never really put much stock in the concept of marriage - mostly because my main experience of it was my mum and dad's marriage, which ended in a proper mess. Growing up on a council estate hadn't given me many shining examples of happy marriages either, and whilst the way Miss Stevens was talking about her engagement made me think there must be some happy marriages out there, my personal experience was lacking. So it was that the next weekly session where Miss Stevens, Marcus and I all gathered in one room came round surprisingly fast. As before Marcus headed straight into Miss Stevens' office whilst I peeled off to the women's changing room, stripping off and scrubbing myself clean. Much as promised, the epilator had thoroughly removed any trace of hair around my genitals and they showed no signs of growing back any time soon. I remember how strange it had looked when Miss Stevens had initially shaved me smooth down there, but I was growing increasingly appreciative of the view - perhaps keeping myself smooth down below was a habit I'd carry with me once I got out of prison. On more than one occasion in the past week I'd found myself wondering about grabbing the epilator again and trimming the hairs on my thighs away - just to neaten up the effect - but so far I'd decided on balance to leave them well enough alone. Speaking of hair, I thought to myself as I ran my fingers through my strawberry blonde strands, the hair on my head was seeming... fuller? Thicker? It had definitely got a bit longer, floating around just above my shoulders, but there was a new quality to it that I couldn't quite put my finger on just yet. In fairness, I'd never had my hair this long before, so perhaps this was just how it felt when it got this long. Maybe it was my nails getting a bit longer, too, and the difference in touch sensation - I'd only seen a pair of nail clippers once since I'd been imprisoned and not since I'd been on the rehabilitation programme. It was starting to take longer to dry - maybe because of this increased thickness - and I thought to myself to mention it to Miss Stevens. I didn't want to start making myself late for her sessions whilst I waited for my hair to dry as I knew that wouldn't make her happy, but I was starting to get stuck for a solution. Stepping out of the shower I gave myself a towel off, making sure to dry my hair as much as I could, then hung the towel up as I stepped across to pick up my fresh clothing. I had previously only chosen the medium sized prison uniform bottoms out of preference for them being a bit more baggy and comfortable to wear - the smaller size Miss Stevens regularly left out for me initially fit fine, but was just a bit snug. Now, however, I was starting to think I was going to have to request Miss Stevens stop putting out the small size as each day was seeming more of a battle to shimmy the small bottoms up past my thighs and butt. It must be my muscles growing, I thought to myself. The bottoms were making the white cotton briefs ride up, too, and I could feel the material getting pulled between my butt cheeks like dental floss. The combined tightness and compression was getting uncomfortable during my workouts with Marcus, and - attractive as it sounds - my butt was getting sweaty and itchy because of it all. All problems I hoped would be solved by the medium size. Monday 17th March, 2020; 09:18 "Good morning, Miss Stevens," I smiled as I stepped into her office, bowing my head slightly as she turned to smile back at me. Marcus had been stood over by the window, staring out across the fields, but turned and smiled too as I entered the room. He quickly took his seat opposite Miss Stevens' desk and I walked over to join them, making note of Miss Stevens' outfit for today - a stylish pink blouse and a tight white pencil skirt. "Good morning, sweetie," Miss Stevens said as she gestured to my daily cup of tea with the Anxigen pill laid beside it. "How quickly time passes! It seems like just the other day the two of you were sitting here for your first session - which I think we'd all agree was successful?" Marcus nodded and smiled. "Yes, Miss Stevens." I nodded. "I must say as well, it feels as if this past week has gone much smoother than the first week of the programme. Would we all agree with that as well?" Miss Stevens asked. "Yes, Miss Stevens." I nodded once more. "I know I was only brought in towards the end of that first week," Marcus added, "but I'd say this week we've definitely got into a rhythm of sorts." "Fabulous!" Miss Stevens beamed. "Now Josh, Marcus and I had just been catching up and I was asking him if there was anything he thought could be done to improve the general living situation for the two of you," Miss Stevens explained. "Oh?" I asked, my ears pricking up. The cell, whilst livable, certainly wasn't the plushest of places to spend time. I knew that was half the point of prison, but if there was going to be talk of improving our living environment I was all ears. "Yes - you see Josh, as I'm sure you know by now I'm a big believer in having a healthy body and a healthy mind. The conditions in a lot of the cells in this prison allow someone to get by - but they're hardly luxury. Now, that's partly budget limitations on prison design but it's also part of the punishment - and I don't think the general public would be best pleased if prisoners were living in places of a higher quality than themselves," Miss Stevens smiled. "That said, whenever I successfully enrol an inmate on my rehabilitation programme and get them set up with their rehabilitation partner - like you and Marcus - I apply to the prison governors for permission to... upgrade your living situation. Part of my meeting last week was about funding for this, which was thankfully made easier again by a donation from Adam, my fiance." "That's very kind of him," I said, eager to please. "That's very kind of you as well, Miss Stevens," I added. "You're welcome." She smiled. "I'll make sure to pass on your thanks to Adam this evening. Now, as I was saying Marcus and I have spent some time this morning laying out some basics for improvements to your living situation. We're constructing a new cell for the two of you to move into which should be completed within the month, and I'd like to gather some suggestions for it from you both." This was sounding fantastic! "Marcus - would you care to share your ideas?" "Thank you, Miss Stevens." Marcus smiled, nodding. He shifted in his seat to face me a bit more. "Well Josh, I was saying that a bigger bed - maybe not bunk beds - would be nice. Something a bit comfier; somewhere a bit easier to do your sports massages rather than a cramped bottom bunk," Marcus laughed. I smiled and nodded - that did sound a good idea. "A separate bathroom area would be good, too - not that it smells or anything, but I'd love to have a bedroom that doesn't have a cheap toilet in the corner. What do you think?" "100% agree, Marcus," I said. "And not that I mind the arrangement currently in place, but if that bathroom area could have a shower we could use that after the gym instead of trying to be secretive in the gym showers?" I asked. "Yeah, that sounds a good idea, Josh," Marcus agreed, turning to Miss Stevens. "Would that be possible?" "I don't see why not." Miss Stevens shrugged, writing it down. "The other thing I'd asked Miss Stevens for was some sort of desk and chair, or bedside cabinets, or both, so that you could store your dream diary and homework stuff in a place that wasn't the floor," Marcus continued. "That's very considerate." I smiled. "It would make it an awful lot easier to access and keep together - if it's possible, Miss Stevens?" I asked, taking my turn to look at her and ask politely. "Oh I think that's one of the best ideas," Miss Stevens said. "I'll campaign for that addition, as a nice work environment for all your projects can only help. Not that your homework has been suffering for lack of one, but I think it'll make it easier, don't you?" I nodded. Miss Stevens turned to look at Marcus. "On a side note, don't you think Josh has been doing so well with his work? He said you'd helped him on some of them?" "Oh yeah, he's really working hard." Marcus nodded fervently. I was grateful he'd noticed and was telling Miss Stevens as well - I had been working hard. "And yeah, I've given him a few pointers in the right direction now and again but the actual work is all him. I know you don't think so - and your school let you down by not teaching you what you've been learning this past week - but you're pretty bright, Josh. In a different world you could've been a teacher or something. Are you good with kids? I could see you as an excellent primary school teacher." Marcus smiled. "Thanks, Marcus." I smiled shyly. "But where did you get that idea from?" I chuckled softly. "I couldn't be a teacher, I don't have the intelligence or the confidence - and I've not spent much time with kids at all, so I wouldn't know." I shrugged. "I don't think they let ex- convicts become teachers, anyway," I added. My gaze drifted across to Miss Stevens, as if looking for support that getting the dumb, racially- motivated convict to become a primary school teacher was a dreadful idea. "True," Miss Stevens acknowledged, "but the whole point of this rehabilitation programme is to remove the 'convict' label from you both once you leave. I shouldn't see any reason you couldn't apply to become a teacher, Josh. You'd need your teaching qualifications first, but if that's something you want to aim towards I'd try to help you. I know you were unemployed when you came into prison - was there ever any career you were interested in, or working towards?" Miss Stevens asked. I paused, my mouth flapping a little. "I... can't say there was," I answered honestly, still reeling a tad from the idea of Miss Stevens setting me up to become a teacher. "I don't think I felt I had enough intelligence to go into anything fancy. My mum worked in a shop and my dad in a garage - I guess I thought I'd end up following one of them." "Do you want to work in either of those places?" Miss Stevens asked frankly. "Not really, Miss Stevens." I shrugged. "Would you want to see if I could arrange things for you to work towards a career in teaching? I think teaching is an excellent way of taking responsibility and helping other, impressionable young minds be prevented from making the same mistakes you made," Miss Stevens explained. "Um, well - it all seems to be happening a bit fast, Miss Stevens," I stammered. "I thought we were talking about plans for our new cell?" I smiled weakly. "I think I understand, Josh," Miss Stevens nodded, furrowing her brow a little. "Perhaps it's best to take things a little slower." "Thank you, Miss Stevens," I began to say, but she cut across me. "Maybe some taster sessions at a local school first, as a beginner teaching assistant, could help you decide if it's a career you'd want to go into? I'll talk to my contacts and see what I can sort." Miss Stevens smiled. "Um..." I trailed off. "I do think this is a good idea, sweetie," she insisted. "Even if you decide it's not for you, then we know and can look for something else to work towards. I'll get the wheels in motion." "I think it's a good idea too, Josh." Marcus nodded. I opened my mouth to protest but I could see I was outnumbered. At the end of the day, time getting experience in a school was time away from prison, I thought to myself. Surely it couldn't be that bad an idea? "Okay," I said, admitting defeat. "I'll give it a go." "Good boy," Miss Stevens smiled. "Anyway - let's move on, shall we? I've taken notes of your ideas for the new cell and I'll pass them on to the builders. I'll also get in touch with my contacts to try and sort some teaching taster sessions for you, Josh. In the meantime, I'd like to spend the rest of this session running through a few questions for you both. They may seem a little unusual, but this is considered a thought exercise that I'd be very interested in undertaking, okay?" "Yes, Miss Stevens," I replied dutifully. "Sounds interesting," echoed Marcus. "It is interesting," Miss Stevens repeated. "Seeing as last session Marcus went first, what I'll do is ask the first question to you, Josh, then the same question applies to you as well, Marcus. The idea is to spark a bit of a conversation, but please keep to the topic of the question. All clear?" Both Marcus and I nodded in agreement. I can't say I was super happy about going first, but hopefully the questions would be quite straightforward. "I'm ready, Miss Stevens," I said. "Okay, first question - given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?" I paused, wracking my brain. It certainly wasn't the sort of question I was expecting, but it wasn't a particularly awkward one. Who would I want to have as a dinner guest? I thought to myself. "Do they have to be alive?" I asked. "Is there someone in particular who's dead that you have in mind?" asked Miss Stevens. "...no, Miss Stevens," I replied. "I was just wondering." "For the purposes of the question, let's say it can be anyone alive or dead," she decided. "Okay, in that case..." I trailed off, deep in thought once more. "Emilia Clarke," I opted for eventually. "Good choice," nodded Marcus. "I was wondering about choosing her - why did you pick her?" "Well..." I began, feeling Miss Stevens and Marcus looking at me, "I just think she's really sweet. I bet she's easy to talk to, and she's very bubbly and chatty and I'm sure she'd be a good laugh. I, um... I know she had difficulties with brain aneurysms in the past and her path to recovery from those is very impressive. She... she's a very tough woman but really sweet and someone who I think would make a great friend... and role model," I shrugged. "I'd like to have dinner with her." "Good reasoning, too," Miss Stevens agreed. "And you wouldn't want dinner with her for any other reason?" "I'm not sure I understand the question, Miss Stevens," I replied. "Well, she's a very attractive young woman - she was voted the most desirable woman in the world by AskMen readers in 2014. Does that make things clearer, Josh?" Miss Stevens smiled. "Oh, oh!" I said, cottoning on and suppressing a blush. "Well, she is very attractive, yes, but I don't think she'd want to date me. I'm sure she could do far better, after all," I shrugged. "Hey, don't do yourself a disservice," Marcus chimed in, gently nudging my shoulder and making me sway in my seat. "You're great, Josh, and she'd be lucky to have you!" He said, smiling widely. I couldn't tell if he was teasing me or not, but I smiled anyway. "Thanks, Marcus," I replied. "Who would you have as a dinner guest, then?" I asked. "Oh, sorry," I added, turning to Miss Stevens. "Am I allowed to ask? Or do you want to, Miss Stevens? Sorry if I misunderstood..." "That's more than okay, sweetie." Miss Stevens smiled, leaning back in her chair. "I'm more than happy for you to ask - I'll chip in when it's time for the next question, or if I want to clarify something. Conversation between the two of you is good!" "Thank you, Miss Stevens," I said, before looking back at Marcus to await his answer. "Ooh, it's a tough one to choose," Marcus said, stroking his chin. "You've got me stuck on Game of Thrones characters!" he grinned, chuckling. "Anyone in the world... I mean, there's so many I could pick, but I think... ooh - Arnold Schwarzenegger! Him," Marcus nodded. "Really?" I asked. "Why would you choose him?" "I just think he'd be a really interesting guy to chat with," Marcus replied. "He's said and done some really inspirational things, and I admire his commitment to personal fitness and general betterment. I think I'd learn a lot from dinner with Arnold." "So he's like your role model too?" I asked. "Yeah, I guess," mused Marcus. "I could definitely do far worse than ending up like him!" "Another good choice and good set of reasoning," said Miss Stevens. "And now for the next question - would you like to be famous, and if so - in what way?" "Easy question, Miss Stevens," I answered quickly. "No. I would never want to be in the public eye - I mean, there's too much to be ashamed of in my past, but the idea of the paparazzi hounding you and everyone reading about your every action and every thought... no, I don't think I'd like that at all. How about you, Marcus?" "Same," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think I could have answered it better myself. I'm all for having a group of local people know you, or have the respect of a group, but the whole celebrity aspect thing doesn't appeal in the slightest. Give me a nice steady job, a warm home filled with a loving wife and children - that's alright by me," Marcus smiled. "Easy question, indeed," Miss Stevens agreed. "Very well, then Josh - before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you're going to say? Why?" "Interesting question," I pondered. I didn't really get the point of this thought exercise Miss Stevens was making us do, but it passed the time. There was a year (minus two weeks) to go, anyway. "I don't make many phone calls, but I suppose when I do I want to have some idea of what I'm going to say. Maybe not rehearsing what I say, but getting the opening right at least. Just so you don't sound stupid, you know?" "I get that." Marcus nodded. "I can't say I rehearse my phone calls but the ones I make tend to be work oriented and I've already got my patter for those reinforced in my mind so much I don't even need to think about it. If I was ringing Arnold Schwarzenegger up to ask him to join me for dinner I might practice what I'm going to say, though!" Marcus chuckled, and Miss Stevens and I joined in with him. "Yes, I'm sure I would too." Miss Stevens smiled. "Next question: when did you last sing to yourself? When did you last sing to someone else?" "I, um... can't say I've ever sung to myself. Or someone else," I added, staring at my lap a little. "My, um... my mum used to sing to me when I was little, and I think we had to do some choir stuff at school too, but I'm not really a singer. I don't have a good voice," I shrugged. "Again with the negativity!" Marcus cried, patting me on the back gently. "Josh, you've really got to start believing in yourself a bit more. I bet you've got a great voice. Mine isn't too bad but I'm definitely more of a shower singer than someone who could get by without the loud water crashing by as a backing track," he smiled. "Tell you what - next time we're in the showers after the gym let's sing. Let's do it this afternoon!" "You can't be serious," I said, deadpan. That sounded an awful idea. "I am!" Marcus beamed cheekily. "No way - no," I said, shaking my head and looking to Miss Stevens once more for support. She was simply smiling. "Look, I'd maybe try it if we get a shower of our own in the new cell, but I'm not singing in a public shower while I'm naked and hiding behind you so no one else sees my chastity cage! I think that's enough to be getting on with," I said, stating my case. "Fair enough." Marcus shrugged, before pointing a finger in my direction. "I'll hold you to that, though - first time in the new shower you're singing me something!" I rolled my eyes and sighed playfully. "Honestly..." I trailed off. Miss Stevens was still smiling happily at our banter, but pulled herself back into the present long enough to ask the next few questions. We debated living to 90 with the body or mind of a 30 year old, and both chose mind. She asked us if we had a hunch on how we might die, which we both agreed was a bit morbid and stated neither of us had much of a clue. I half-joked that until recently I'd felt the stress of the rehabilitation programme might do me in, which got a few smiles. We talked about what we were most grateful for in life - Marcus said his family, and I said - partly to my surprise - the rehabilitation programme, and how it was giving me a second chance. Miss Stevens definitely liked that answer. "Now - if there was one thing you could change about how you were raised, what would it be?" Miss Stevens asked me. I didn't have to think long of my answer. "I'd change it so mum never left," I answered simply and briefly, trying not to let myself get emotional about it. My feelings towards my mother were a mix of anger, sadness, betrayal and regret that were more jumbled than if you threw several sets of headphone cables into a drawer and shook them up. "Marcus?" "I'm sorry about your mum, Josh," Marcus rumbled quietly. "I know you don't talk about her much - or what happened - but if you ever do I'll listen." "Thanks," I replied briefly, once again trying not to let my emotions enter into my words. "As for me," Marcus continued. I was grateful he was moving the conversation away from a sore topic. "I suppose there's not much I'd change about my childhood. I'd have liked it if my father and uncle hadn't fallen out, though - there were a couple of cousins I never really saw after they argued. Something about some inheritance thing, I think - I was young at the time grandma and grandpa died. That was a tough year - I'd change that somehow, I think," he concluded. "Thank you both," Miss Stevens interjected. "Now, the next question is to tell the other your life story in as much detail as possible in five minutes - but I think we've already covered things very similar to that in our initial introductions. There's a question I could swap in from the second set that I think would be really good to explore - but it relies on you, Josh. Sweetie, it's a question about your relationship with your mother." I froze, partly with anger and partly in an attempt to stop tears. I didn't want to talk about her, and I thought that had been clear. "I don't really want to, Miss Stevens..." I mumbled quietly. "I know you don't, sweetie," she soothed. "It's why I've not brought it up before now. I know there's a lot of hurt in the past when it comes to your mother, and I wouldn't want to be insensitive. As Marcus says, we're here to listen. I'm afraid I'm a little less patient than Marcus, however," Miss Stevens smiled softly. "I think you need to start talking about what happened in order to start the healing process, sweetie. You can be as brief as you like, and you can cry if you like, but I'd really like you to share with us why your mother left. That's all we need from you today - just one sentence. Why did she leave you and your father?" The office fell silent for what felt like an eternity, as my mind went completely blank and then slowly but surely began to form a single sentence that fully encapsulated my resentment around what had happened. "Dad caught mum having an affair with a black man," I stated coolly, tears of rage waiting at the corners of my eyes. "She left. She left me with dad... who started drinking. Heavier, that is. And he took his anger out on me. And I don't see a reason to forgive her for that. And by extension a lot of my anger... came out towards black people. So it makes sense at the end of the day, doesn't it? Why I did what I did? Why I am who I am? Oh, pity poor Josh whose mum thought sex with a stranger was more important than her only son. Pity Josh, whose mum didn't want him and whose dad used for target practice and a punching bag. Pity me, the poor loser who got the blame because, according to my dad, mum never acted like that before I was born. Of course it was my fault. Of course no one... of course..." I trailed off, losing my battle to hold back tears as my body started to tremble with sobs. "I hate her! I hate him! I hate the man she left with! I just - I hate so much - and I... I just..." I shouted out in incoherent blubbing before allowing myself to collapse into Marcus' outstretched arms, which wrapped around me and held me close to his chest. I felt Miss Stevens stroke my shoulder and mop my tears with a handy tissue, Marcus' heartbeat providing a steady pace for my breathing to slow down to meet. I don't know how long it took, but with the combined soothing of Miss Stevens and Marcus I found the energy to speak again: "I'm sorry..." I mewled. "No, I'm sorry, sweetie," Miss Stevens replied. "I'm the one who has to apologise. I pushed you before you were ready, perhaps. What happened with your mother was one of the few things I didn't know about from your file - it was never recorded in there. It explains a lot, I think, about why you ended up here, Josh. Why you did what you did, as you said. I think it would be useful to spend some of our future sessions, including the hypnotherapy ones, exploring and helping you process this a bit more. Not today, though," she added definitively. "We'll end things here for today. Before you go, however, please take this," Miss Stevens continued, pressing another Anxigen tablet into my hand. "It's the least I can do for causing you such distress." "We can skip the gym today, too," Marcus added, his voice resonating as my ear was still pressed to his chest. "I mean, if you need to work out some frustrations we can go - but if you just want to go back to the cell and rest that's fine by me, too." "Thank you," I said quietly. "I think I'd like some quiet this afternoon, please." "A sensible choice," Miss Stevens soothed. "I know it hurts, sweetie, but this was a big step today. I'm proud of you. Just think how far you've come in only two weeks since this all began - what big, brave steps you've taken. We're not even one month down and I can already tell you're well on your way to becoming a new person. It's my privilege to help people like you, to help you process what led you here and what you need to do to move forwards. We've identified our next steps on that journey today. Each day we keep moving forward. You're doing so well, sweetie," she added, leaning forward and kissing me on my forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? And I'll see you in a week's time, Marcus." "See you soon, Miss Stevens," Marcus purred, helping me to my feet. I still held close to him, even after standing, for emotional support as much as physical. "She's doing so well," Miss Stevens said softly to him as we started to leave her office. I briefly wondered who she was talking about, but I was too exhausted from my outpouring of emotion to linger long on the thought. Maybe I'd just misheard and she'd actually said 'he's'. That would make more sense, I thought to myself. She had been talking quietly, after all...