Safe. That’s what everyone keeps telling me.
He suddenly turns his head, looking over my shoulder. “Please excuse me.” He sighs, hopping to his feet.
I sit, thinking about what Logan said still keeping up my required efforts with the demanding Scoot. My thoughts are soon interrupted by a conversation between two guys sitting near the window. They are talking about the one named Cole again and how he “popped this rat in the face.” The other guy then begins to describe another Cole story with so much detail I actually have to get up and walk out of the room. I’ve decided it’s time for bed anyway, and I have heard quite enough of that.
I watch as Dr. Roberts glances at me over his glasses. We are forty minutes into our potentially last session. I am having an internal battle with myself and finally a side wins. I breathe in deeply and decide to take a leap of faith—really at this point I have nothing to lose and maybe something to gain.
“Purple,” I whisper. I watch as his gaze flips up from his tablet, his eyes narrowing at me.
“Pardon?”
“My favorite color is purple.” My hands twist together as I am feeling uneasy with my decision.
“Well, that’s a pretty color.” He grins, taking a moment to think. “If you could use three words to describe how you’re feeling today, what would they be?”
Only three? I think about it carefully before choosing the words and clear my throat.
“Scared, confused, overwhelmed.”
“All normal to be feeling after what you have been through.” He nods. “How do you like it here so far?”
I shrug. “Fine.”
“What do you like most?”
That’s a hard question to answer; there are surprisingly a lot of things. I mean who wouldn’t love the view, the horses, the lake, the air.
“Lots.”
He nods, scribbling on his tablet again. “Could you name one thing?”
“Scoot.” This makes him laugh.
“Good old Scoot. I swear that cat runs this house. What is it that you like about him?”
I study the doctor for a moment trying to figure out where this psychobabble might be going.
“He is what he is.”
“It’s true, animals don’t judge like people do. They’re trustworthy, loyal companions,” he tilts his head to the right. “Were there any animals where you were held?”
The hair on my neck stands up.
“I’m thinking something that might have brought you comfort?”
“No,” I shoot back quickly, remembering wanting desperately for someone to talk to, someone to trust, someone to be my friend, hell someone or something to love.
“Okay.” Resting his head on his hand, he watches me.
I see his chest rise and fall heavily.
His lips press together before he speaks. “Can you tell me about the night you were taken?”
I hear a door slam shut in my brain.
“Time’s up, Doc,” I say, jumping to my feet. I can’t go there, I don’t want to.
He stands too, placing his tablet on his chair.
“Savannah,” he says.
I stop mid-step to the door.
“I’ve been doing this for thirty years. I’ve seen a lot of patients and heard a lot of stories. You need my help or this will destroy you. If you leave now you’ll be looking over your shoulder going mad waiting for those monsters to take you, that’s no way to live. Take Logan’s offer, stay and be safe, take back your life. Only you can make that choice but you have to want to fight. Don’t let them win.”
I wipe my wet cheeks. His words cut me—everything he says is true and I know it.
“Just think about it.” He opens the door for me.
I walk out and make it to a nearby bathroom where I manage to pull myself together. Looking at my red, glossy eyes in the mirror I know what I have to do. I fuss with my off-the-shoulder green sweater, making it hang correctly over my leggings. It’s funny how my obsessive need to fix myself in case I am being watched by the media comes right back to me. I wonder what else would surface over time.
Chapter Four
Okay, okay, you can do this. I bite my lip and knock on the wooden door, waiting for the command to enter. It comes after a moment and I slide my hand into the sword handle, squeeze and push. Logan is sitting on the couch leaning over the table looking intently at his laptop. I stand, holding onto the door for support. I’m not sure how to even start this conversation.
“Logan?” I whisper.
His head flips up and when he sees me his eyes go wide and soften.
“May I have a word with you?”
His smile runs along his lips as he closes his laptop.
“Of course, Savannah, come in, take a seat.” He points to the couch in front of him. “How was your appointment with Doctor Roberts?”