Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
"May I keep this?" he asks.
"Please," I whisper. "I don't want it anywhere near me."
He tucks the page into a folder, movements precise and deliberate. The storm has started properly now, rain lashing the windows, thunder shaking the building's bones.
"Anna," he says, and there's a gentleness to his tone that makes tears spring to my eyes. "I have to be blunt with you. Given your history of hypnosis-induced amnesia, this was a highly predictable outcome of such measures."
Heat rushes to my face, anger flaring hot and bright. "Well, why didn't you tell me that before?!"
"Because I thought we'd established enough trust that you would discuss treatment options with me before taking alternative measures." His voice remains calm, though his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on his armrests. "And I did discuss all treatment modalities with you when we first began working together. But granted, that was a long time ago, and you weren't in the best state at the time. I should have reiterated the reasons for our current approach as we continued."
I sink back into the chair, deflated. The leather squeaks beneath me, the sound oddly childish in the serious room.
"I take it Mads did something to push you to take such extreme actions?" he asks after a moment.
My eyes burn with unshed tears. "She ran away. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing."
The memory hits me with physical force---waking up bloody in the middle of nowhere, the car smashed all to hell. And me too fucking stubborn to realize she must have been running from danger.
"But the appearance of this new alter has changed your mind?"
"Yes," I say softly, watching rain streak the window like tears. "I need Mads back. She understood... things. Red is different. Colder. I'm afraid of what she might do next."
Dr. Ezra steeples his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, we'll just have to start over and try to establish co-consciousness with the new alter and bring her into conversation with you as primary."
"No!" The word explodes from me, sharp and panicked. I lean forward, pulse racing. "You can't talk to her. I just need you to find Mads."
Something shifts in Dr. Ezra's expression---a softening around the eyes, a sadness I don't want to see.
"Anna," he says gently, "it doesn't work like that. There's no magic pill, no simple hypnotic suggestion that can bring Mads back and send Red away. The mind is infinitely more complex."
"But there must be something---"
"I can only facilitate communication between the three of you," he continues. "I'd like you to try an exercise with me. Close your eyes."
I hesitate, then obey, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly feeling vast and dangerous.
"Imagine a meeting room," Dr. Ezra's voice guides me. "Comfortable, safe. A round table where everyone can see each other. Equal space for everyone."
I try, but all I can picture is the empty kitchen where I'd been baking, the moment before I lost time. The pie dough half-rolled on the counter. The buttery cinnamon scent in the air. The afternoon light spilling across the marble.
"I can't." My eyes flash open. The office comes back into sharp focus---Dr. Ezra's concerned face, the rain-lashed window, the antique clock ticking away on the shelf. "I've tried all that before. I don't have time for this." I reach down and grab my purse.
"Time for what, Anna?"
I bite my tongue, tasting copper. I can't tell him about the man with the tattoo and the encrypted messages on his phone. About the danger I'm probably still in right now.
"For... starting over," I finish lamely.
Dr. Ezra sighs, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. Without them, he looks handsome, more human somehow. "There are responsible therapeutic modalities we can explore for dissociative identity disorder, like the meditation and visualization we've already begun. We can work on building co-consciousness gradually. I know you're familiar with this approach---"
"It's too slow," I interrupt, my fingers twisting the strap of my purse. "I need help now."
"Anna," he says, replacing his glasses, "I'm also here for you if you just want to talk. It's important not to shut down your emotions. Whatever you're feeling---fear, grief, anger---it's valid."
I stand abruptly, my dress swishing around my knees. The storm outside matches the one raging inside me---violent, unpredictable, dangerous.
"I have emotions all right," I say, swinging my purse over my shoulder. "But I don't want to talk about them. I want to feel them."
His expression is maddeningly composed. "And how do you want to feel them, Anna?"
The truth burns on my tongue, begging to be released: I want to feel them with Domhnall. At the club. With him punishing me for my sins.
Instead, I head for the door, my heels silent on the thick carpet. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Ezra."
"Anna," he calls as my hand touches the doorknob. "Please be careful. Especially with this new alter. Don't push her away or antagonize her. Try to understand why she's emerged."