CHAPTER 7

The therapist watched a recycling van trundle up the street. The soft patter of rain fall began on the windows. She felt really cold. Its the rain, Rylee. No. Social isolation made people feel physically colder. The cold shoulder wasn't just a metaphor after all. It was just to find out how icy loneliness could get.

She wrapped her self up in a warm blanket. She decided to go back into her room, but a strange smell that seemed like dust perturbed her, knowing fully well her home was spotlessly clean. There was a scratch, like the sound of something peeling.

The lights flickered. Dr montoya was frightened now. She had only to breath a sigh of relief from the returned lights before its tripping off. She wondered why the floor made loud creeking noises under her feet or why she could hear her own breath. "Get a life, Rylee. "She muttered, looking down at the photographs she still clutched.

She found her way to the kitchen, found philberts hidden keys. He would chang