Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Two Hundred and Five

I sit at my vanity, staring at my reflection in the mirror as I attempt to style my hair. No. Not style. Consolidate. The clock on the wall ticks relentlessly, each second bringing me closer to my second session with Frost. My stomach churns with a mix of anxiety and…something else I don’t want to name.

As I gather my hair, my eyes are drawn to the fading marks on my neck. Frost’s fingerprints, still visible after a week. I swallow hard, and the action makes me think of Gran’s revelation about his grandfather’s “gift” to her—the choker meant to mimic his grip on her throat. On her life. A shudder runs through me, an uncomfortable mix of revulsion and thrill.

I wonder what Frost will think when he sees these marks. Will he be pleased? Aroused? Or will he be indifferent, seeing them as nothing more than the natural result of our arrangement? The thought makes me feel sick and high in equal measure, and I hate myself a little for it.

Frost’s instructions stare back at me from the propped-up Ice Block. Like they’re watching me in his stead. Daring me to defy them. Consolidate your hair away from your face. I roll my eyes at his choice of words. Why couldn’t he just say ‘tie up’ or ‘put up’ your hair like a normal person? Then again, as I eye the sheer volume of my curls, maybe ‘consolidate’ is the appropriate term.