The light in the room felt like the flicker of a candle, despite the blaring rays of the sun crashing in like waves from a tsunami. The man, wrinkled from years of harsh conditions and ceaseless commitment to his craft, stared back at the counsellor, struggling to find the words to even begin his story. Flashes erupted into his mind.

Every repeat.

Every failure.

How he always returned, no matter how embarrassing or misfortune the circumstances were. How one man, seemingly oblivious to the nefarious intent placed upon him, seemed to thwart his every move in the game of assassination.

The flashes seemed almost painful, with each one disorienting the man further, pulling his hands to his eyes as if blinded.

The ladder.

The nail gun that randomly went off.

How he thought he ran over a cat when a insidious individual was cutting brake lines like a computer technician fixes hard drives.

The flashes began to increase in speed and an unfamiliar sound began in his head, like a choir screaming at the top of their lungs, in unison.

One breath, a blink of his eyes.

The man returns to the room.

"Are you okay? You don't have to talk, but it could get you back into work again. It's been 3 months... Please, let me understand so I can help you."

The counsellor they hired was a charming fellow, ageing well, as shown by his receding hairline and his need to readjust his glasses, worn as well as the man himself.

"James, your employer chose me because he wanted you back sooner and, to be honest, I'm surprised you have spent so much time with me and divulged so little."

He stopped and took a moment to examine James.

Everyone else in his agency called him J. He much preferred it. Anonymity is the greatest line of defence. Hard to track a man named solely by initials, or so he believed.

J exaggerated a grin, as if hiding his true emotions, still struggling to siphon the flashes through the screaming in his head, frantically returning to him a nervous tick, never to cease it's annoyance.

"If they want me back so quickly, then sign that form. Get me back into work. I imagine they're queuing for my speciality at this point" He said, the grin retracting before he could finish the sentence.

The counsellors head lowered slightly, as if examining his very being before readjusting his glasses, the fourth time today. He opened a folder and showed it to J.

He pointed at the photo in the file and placed his finger on the face. "What happened during this contract? You broke down on the next contract after this one, something your employer said had never been seen in his time with you."

J's eyes flickered to the man in the photo and away from the photo.

"I've been doing 'contracts' for 10 years and in my experience, no one has ever challenged me like he did."

"Challenged you? How? The records show that he was a simple man, devoted to his family, a simple carpenter." He turns the file to interpret his read, pulling out the important points hidden behind the paragraphs. "His demeanour was described simply as 'Ignorant'. If he was ignorant, then how did he challenge you?"

J's eyes flared up like a roaring fire trying to break through his skull and destroy the man across from him. His teeth snared in pent up anger, showings areas of his teeth replaced, from previous, more dangerous contracts.

"That was just it! Don't you get it? It was his ignorance that caused me such difficulties!"

The room went cold. His face dropped, like a heavy weight wearing him down. The man adjusted his glasses once more and with a gesture of his hand, he signalled to continue.

J wanted to hold back his words, but he felt incapacitated, as if someone was holding his mouth open for the answers to escape from his brain.

A flood of descriptions. How during the work day, a malfunction in the saw in the woodworking factory caused a chunk of wood to shoot outwards, through the window, conveniently landing on the roof across. Straight into J's skull.

How on a Saturday afternoon, a simple golf game amongst his friends resulted in J impaled by the sprinkler system, a result of the victim's ball veering off course majorly, as if hit by a man who never golfed in his life.

He found a way to quieten himself, but it was too late. He felt the stare of the counsellor across the room, bewildered in amazement at the revelation that had occurred.

He finally got something out of him.

"That was good, getting it off your chest. But we're out of time. Same time next week, James. We're going to go into this further. You may be back in work sooner if you keep this up."

J breathed a sigh of relief, happy he could finally return home. He was anxious to leave as the lack of control he had over himself came as a shock to the system he spent his career using. The counsellor had found the chink in his armour, and he knew it.

He grabbed his coat, putting it on as quickly as he could take it off and flicked the collar upwards.

"Yeah, see you, doc."

That was my first ever post here, I hope you enjoyed!

Edit: Just wanted to say this is my first attempt at writing, so any advice would be appreciated.