“Do you know the name of the person?” I ask. She taps her foot on the floor and purses her lips; I want to bite them off and spit them back at her. “Isabella, I don’t have time for games, little girl.” I lean into her and growl.
She shuffles her feet and then looks up at me, her eyes gleam with the moisture covering them. “I need something in return.”
“And that is?”
“You need to tell Jodie you were lying about us fucking.” She fidgets with a piece of materiel on her blouse.
“Why? What does it even matter?”
Her hands drop and her face reddens. “Because she may have forgiven you but she hasn’t forgiven me and she’s my only real friend. I need her.”
I laugh at her. “You suck at being someone’s friend if you fuck the man they think they’re with.”
“I know, Ryan, but it’s what I do. I’m not claiming to be a good friend but she is and I miss her.”
Urgh. The craving for affection from others is a burden no one should have to endure and it makes me hate the stupid bitch more.
“Fine. I’ll tell her.”
“Now,” she says, and pushes my temper too far. I grip her hair and snap her head back, my other hand grasping her chin
“Don’t push your fucking luck, Isabella, or I’ll snap this pretty little neck like a twig while you sleep, dump your ass in the shower and make it look like you slipped. Tell me who called to check up on me.”
Her quick inhale makes my blood simmer. “Okay, okay. A detective named Blake Braxton.” I release her with a shove and pace the floor. “You know him?”
I hiss at her. “Go away now.”
Her hands come up in mock surrender. “Fine. Geez, has anyone ever told you to get some help for those anger issues?” She laughs and I storm towards her, ready to wring her scrawny neck, when Jason appears.
“Everything okay here?”
I forgot we’re on camera, and nearly ruined years of work. She’ll pay another time.
“Everything is fine.”
I wait for him to turn around then slip out the front door.
Sitting in Dr. Leighton’s outpatient’s office always makes me feel a sense of accomplishment. Not many people could pull off what I did. The office here is similar to the one I used to visit him in when I was inside the facility. It has his personality and age stamped all over it. Bookshelves he never uses and old furniture that creaks whenever somebody walks over the floorboards; his medical certificates litter the wall behind his desk and he has the blood spatter pictures up in here, just like in his other office. The ink bleeding into the white paper reminds me of my own demons consuming the souls of my victims but I will never tell him that.
“Ryan, how are you?” he booms from behind me, almost deafening me. I didn’t hear him come in.
“I’m very well, thank you.”
“And you’re still well settled and getting along with the people at Grace Manor?”
He makes his way behind his desk, picks up a pen and jots down a few things on the paper in front of him.
“I enjoy the company of some of the others but I think I’m ready to live alone and start moving forward with my life. I would like to think about maybe getting some work and renting my own place.”
He smiles and jots down more words on the paper. “I think you’re making tremendous progress, Ryan. When the probation period ends there shouldn’t be any reason why you can’t live alone. Your caseworker can help with job seeking so make an appointment with Annabel to discuss options.” He maneuvers some folders around from the stack behind him, pulls one out and rests it on the table. I see my name typed on the card on the front. Opening the file he scans down it with his finger.
“Ah, yes. So, when you turned twenty-five your trust fund became available to you but for obvious reasons you couldn’t access this so it has stayed in a trust gathering interest.” I want to snatch the folder from him and look at the documents he has. A trust fund? I know Blake had one set up for me but I assumed he would have cancelled it somehow.
“How much?” I ask as casually as I can manage.
“Well, payments stopped around the time you were diagnosed but there was already a healthy sum already in there. I don’t have the final figures, I only have what was in there at the time you were committed into our care.”
I hate that these people have power over me, and all this information is theirs to tell me at their leisure.
“Not long now, Ryan, and you will have the rights to all that is yours. I can tell you that you won’t need to worry about finding rent for a while.”
After a few more basic questions he’s asked a million times before, my time is up and I’m free to go.