When the doctors who convene to write the Diagnostic Manual every year, or every time it gets a revision, I wonder if they think of new diagnoses that conveniently describe the "White Knight complex" I'm sure to have. I have never been analyzed by a specialist, but if I were to be? I'm sure there would be lots of excitement about the kinds of horrors they might find parading around in my brain. My brain was a cesspool where bacteria of horror could breed unbidden, unstoppable in its tirade to ruin me. Then again, maybe the doctors wouldn't really enjoy me because I am a terrible, terrible patient. Treatment? No thank you. Hospitals? Not for me. Doctor's orders? Not listening, la la la. I'm not sure the whole white knight complex business is really treatable with any of those remedies, anyway. What could you do, bless a sword, knight me, and offer me a seat at the round table for my efforts with victimized women or damsels in distress? It wasn't like I was fighting a dragon, sitting here on the floor of Alexis' home but keeping her company after a disturbing and frightening evening rife with men who had a different kind of a disorder. Is douchebag in the DSM yet?

Curiosity doesn't leave Alexis' tone, emanating into the fire at the same time her gaze moves towards it to watch the display of sparks and crackling the heat has taken to. At her words that implore me to question why I had chosen a dark path. I'm not so sure that you pick the path you travel, all the time. Natural disasters create detours, diverting your destination by a few miles, but sometimes? By far more than merely just a few miles. The rain could often wash away parts of untraveled, new roads so that you had to turn around. The trees could get so thick that sometimes you got lost in the darkness you didn't even know you were traversing into. I'm not so sure you always choose the path you find yourself traveling on so much as the path finds you.

"I would be okay with losing some of those parts of myself, but I don't know if I necessarily chose the path to get here. I don't drive with a GPS very often."

The concern lacing the curiosity that transcends Alexis' voice and into the open of the living room feels a bit like a weight on my shoulders. Concern for me? I hadn't intended to foster such a feeling in the woman, as if she was indebted to me for what any man should have done. Firmly I believed that, and though I may have been the only one to embody what I considered respect for female kind, I didn't and don't think she should have felt in any way obligated to me. As humor begins to gorge her words instead of concern, I exhale heavily. I didn't want to feel like she was going to worry about me and feel like she had some sort of necessity to ... I don't know, watch over me? This was why I often didn't get involved with other individuals past a greeting and whatever other kind of brief interaction typically ended immediately after the primary contact. To put an end to whatever feeling of being trapped in that moment I had acquired, I removed my gaze from the fire to weigh on the were in front of me.

"Are you going to be alright by yourself tonight? I have something I have to ... attend to ... But if you aren't, I can make sure you're safe later."

The words were short, clipped only by an exhaustion I wasn't prepared for. It was evident that my intrusion into her home had registered a sort of trust in the woman, and for that I was grateful. I wasn't always the most trustworthy individual, but her genuine... earnestness to repay whatever I'd done to help her was quickly becoming something I realized I had to accept. I stood up to make towards the exit and find my own home and bed which was what I needed to attend to so quickly, but not without a mischievous smile offered over my shoulder as I looked back from the door.

"It's safe to say you'll know where to find me, then, yeah?"