Capítulo 6: CHAPTER 6: LIFE BEYOND HIS PERFECT WORLD

Draymond was taken aback, causing him to hesitate in his response. "I'm… I'm Draymond Martinez," he stuttered.

"What a beautiful name. Hmm... do you have OCD, dear?" Grandma asked directly.

Draymond was left speechless, overwhelmed by shock. Panic and fear started to grip him. He murmured to himself, 'I don't want anyone to know about my condition. They might use it against me.' His trembling intensified.

"Calm down. I used to be a doctor, so you don't have to fear or worry. I can help you," Martha said calmly and thoughtfully. "Fight it, Dray. You can do it," Grandma softly encouraged him.

Draymond's voice trembled as he replied, "I can't, grandma. The thoughts, the numbers, they control me."

Grandma Martha leaned in, her voice full of sincerity, saying, "Dray, I want you to focus on your breathing. In... and out." She demonstrated with a slow, deliberate gesture.

Draymond followed suit, his racing heart slowly steadying. The tension in his shoulders eased as he matched his breath with her gesture.

"That's it, Dray. Just keep going. I know this isn't easy, my dear, because I understand your condition. Even with all the medication you've taken, it seems ineffective. But it's not too late. What you need now is to trust yourself that you can do it," Grandma said, wearing a smile that carried concern for him.

"Trust myself?" he said in confusion, staring at his hands. "It's hard. I've tried multiple times," he worriedly explained.

"But not everything that is difficult is impossible, right?" Grandma said metaphorically, staring at him gently.

"Now," Grandma continued, "I want you to imagine those numbers and thoughts as clouds passing in the sky. They come and go, but you don't have to hold onto them."

Draymond closed his eyes, picturing the intrusive thoughts drifting away like wisps of smoke. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of control. It was challenging, but Draymond knew he could do it.

After a while, he opened his eyes and met Grandma's gaze. "Hmm... Grandma, it's difficult, but thank you for believing that I can overcome it."

Grandma smiled at him, "Don't worry, you are not alone. Alright, I'll leave you for now. I'll bring your food here later. Be careful with your movements. Mind your wound." Grandma reminded him before getting up and leaving the room.

A weak smile appeared on Draymond's lips as he looked at the closed door.

'Hmm. There are still people who help strangers. I never expected that from others. I never thought that one day, someone would show concern and care for me. Real concern, not just pretense,' Draymond thought to himself.

'I saw kindness in her eyes. I don't see that in the eyes of people around me. I always feel like they have ill intentions towards me,' Draymond mused, shaking his head in dismay at the bitter experiences he had endured.

'So, this is how beautiful life can be outside my office and mansion. Before, I thought the secluded space in my room was my only protection against everyone who wanted to hurt me. I believed I could only find peace and freedom inside the walls I created for myself, but I was wrong. Grandma has made me realize that life is better beyond my perfect world,' he pondered.

Draymond let out another sigh.

'I wonder if someone is looking for me? Are my friends searching for me?' he asked himself.

"Ah, I don't know!" he exclaimed, and his frustration was apparent as he ran his hand through his hair. Then, he lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Minutes later, Draymond pulled himself up and paced around the room, feeling uneasy. He had the urge to rearrange everything repeatedly. Beads of sweat began to form on his skin.

"Relax, Draymond," he mumbled, attempting to regain control over his anxiety.

He continued to pace back and forth, repeatedly glancing at the floor, biting his lips, and clutching his head. He repeated this cycle approximately ten times.

When he grew tired of walking, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his trembling hands.

"Ugh! I can't resist it; my hands just want to touch everything, like I always do with my random card collection," he grumbled, annoyed.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, battling his life setbacks.

"Ahh! I can't take this anymore," he uttered in annoyance.

Draymond stood up from the bed, his eyes fixed on Zarina's working table piled high with sketches and assorted pencils. Then he took small, trembling steps toward the table.

When his hands touched the rough, thick sketchbook cover, his attention shifted to flipping through each page, forgetting about counting the pencils and arranging everything in order.

"Hmm… This might be her sketchpad," he mumbled as he flipped off the cover.

As he flipped through the pages one by one, all he could see were well-crafted and perfect designs of clothes and suits.

At first glance, every drawing exudes elegance and uniqueness.

'Her sketches look elegant at first glance, but if you examine them closely, there's a hidden message you can figure out. Her designs reflect what she sees and understands about a person's personality,' he whispered with a smile.

Draymond kept on flipping pages until he reached the pages that struck him most.

"What is this? Demon client?" he asked in curiosity with furrowing brows.

It was a suit with an unfinished sketch, but the drawing had the head of a faceless man with devil horns on it.

"She surely despises her client that much," he remarked under his breath.

Draymond carefully placed the sketchpad aside, and then his eyes shifted to his surroundings.

'I used to think this room was like a cage, holding me back from reality, but I was wrong,' he mumbled to himself. 'This room has taught me valuable life lessons. It's where I've battled the compulsive thoughts in my head.'

His eyes darted on Zarina's large frame on the wall just then.

"In photos, she appears innocent like a puppy, but in real life, she's more like an angry raccoon," he muttered while examining the frame closely.

His brows narrowed when he noticed that the frame was slightly crooked.

"Ah! That frame needs my precise touch. It must be perfectly aligned," he said as he walked toward it.

He approached the wall where the frame was hung, but when he raised his hand to touch it, his wound suddenly throbbed in pain.

"Ugh! What a burden," he groaned in frustration.

However, instead of checking his wound, he tried again to reach the frame, but this time, his wound ached, and it was unbearable. It caused him to take a step backward and stumble, making him fall on the floor with Zarina's frame.

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