by Willow Rose
Sarah found the couch, then sat down on the edge of it. Most patients sat on the edge the first time.
“Okay, Sarah, what brings you here today?”
Her eyes met Lynn’s, and she was obviously struggling.
“It’s okay,” Lynn said. “We’re in no rush. Do take your time. You’re very pretty, do you know that?”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. You’re to die for.”
Lynn sent her a most reassuring and slightly flirtatious smile. Just enough to make her feel that she liked her, but not so much that she knew for sure. Just enough to make her wonder and then tell herself she was a fool for thinking it. The attraction was thick between them already, and it amused Lynn. She was going to have a lot of fun with this woman; she could already feel it. At first, she’d flirt with her, but not too obviously, just enough to make her feel special, and she’d do her extra favors like let her go over time, take her in when she had a cancellation, call her if she was feeling down, send her emails to cheer her up. Stuff like that would make her depend on her. And then she’d pull it back for a little while—act distant. Make her miss it, make her desperate to get that special attention back. And that’s when she’d introduce touching—a lingering hand on her arm or shoulder, a hug at the beginning of the session. Then the hug would be longer, and she’d kiss her neck and later on the lips. And Sarah wouldn’t even notice how she slowly escalated things, how she manipulated her to want what she wanted. In the end, she’d beg for her to sleep with her and blame herself when it did happen. And she’d never tell anyone because she would believe it was her own fault. She did this; she wanted it.
It was a dance, and Lynn was a pro at it.
She won’t know what hit her.
“It’s my boyfriend,” Sarah said.
Lynn nodded, then wrote on her notepad. She wasn’t exactly writing what Sarah was saying, but Sarah didn’t know that. She didn’t know Lynn was already picturing her naked and drawing them together on the couch.
“What about him?”
“We’re having some trouble.”
“Oh, really? In what way?”
“He flirts with other women, and I fear he might cheat on me. I know it’s probably just me in my mind, but…”
Lynn shook her head. “In here. In this space, all your feelings are valid, Sarah.”
That made Sarah smile. She had a gorgeous smile, and her rosy lips were screaming to be kissed.
“Oh. Really?” Sarah asked. “Okay, then…well, so you say I am entitled to feel the way I do?”
“Absolutely. Now, tell me, what’s your boyfriend’s name?”
“Tommy. Tommy Waltman.”
Lynn wrote the name down, this time actually writing what Lynn said because she needed the name—for later. The boyfriend was in the way. He needed to go. Plus, he was obviously hurting Sarah. Lynn would do it for her because she loved her so.
“And do you have a picture of that boyfriend of yours?” Lynn asked.
Sarah gave her a puzzled look.
“I just like to know who I’m talking about; that’s all,” Lynn explained. “To get the full picture, so to speak. I’m visual like that.”
Sarah eased up, then nodded. “Ah, yes, of course.”
Sarah grabbed her phone and scrolled through it, then turned the display to show Lynn. As she did, their hands brushed briefly, and it was like electricity through Lynn’s body. She stared at the picture of the ugly boyfriend while listening to Sarah’s breathing, almost unable to contain her arousal.
“Anyway,” Sarah said and pulled the phone away, “I’ve come here to work on my jealousy issues. I think they stem from my childhood, and Tommy agrees that it would be good for me to work on them. Do you think you can help me with that?”
Lynn lifted her gaze and met Sarah’s, her eyes sparkling with sexual tension.
“Absolutely. I’d like to see you weekly. I think we’re in for a beautiful journey together toward your healing.”
Chapter 72
“I was her patient for about a year when things started to get really weird. Lynn had always been so kind to me and seemed like she genuinely cared for me. For the first time in my life, someone actually listened to what I said, and someone actually cared and understood. It felt amazing. I had never had that.”
Sarah sat up and rubbed her hands. There were still marks around her wrists from where the chains had been. Lynn had sat down on the couch, hiding her face between her hands. I was still pointing my gun at her and had called the Winter Park Police Department for backup.
“I began depending on her,” Sarah continued, wiping tears from her eyes. “I trusted her and told her everything, even my deepest secrets like the fact that I was bisexual, something I had never dared to tell anyone. She then confided in me that she was too, and it was perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of. I felt free for the first time in my life—free to be myself. I felt better, and my jealousy issues got better since we worked out that it all stemmed from my childhood and my own father, who cheated on my mother. Lynn helped me so much, and I felt indebted to her. But there was also something else, something that made everything worse. I was very attracted to her, and she was to me as well. She flirted with me openly during our sessions and would look at me like she wanted to eat me. It was all very sexual, the atmosphere was, and what we discussed. And slowly, I began to feel worse. She started to touch me, sit on the couch with me and hold me when I cried. I didn’t think it was odd since she was just comforting me, but then her hand would brush against my breast, and soon it was lingering there, touching me. I didn’t stop her. I know I should have since alarms were going off inside me, yet I didn’t say anything. I know I should have. But soon, she was constantly hugging me, sometimes for as long as ten-fifteen minutes. She said it was part of the therapy; it would help me heal. And then she moved on to kissing my neck, my cheek, and soon my lips. And the worst part was that I wanted it to happen. I wanted her to do it. I craved her, and soon my whole life was about her and when I would see her next. And then she started to cancel on me. Week after week, she’d come up with some excuse, and I was beginning to feel so frustrated. I longed to be with her—to feel special. It was almost like a drug. I felt like I couldn’t live without her. I ended up calling her at night, crying, asking her to please see me. Finally, she did. I was back in her office, and after that, I didn’t dare to say anything. I was scared I’d lose her again. The touching became more, and soon we had regular sex on the couch in her office every time I came for my appointment. And I was even paying for it, paying for every session. It felt wrong, and sometimes I’d space out when it happened. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t know how to get out of it. One day, I confided in an old friend who was visiting, telling her—I was very embarrassed—that I was having sex with my therapist. She looked at me weirdly, then said, you don’t do that kind of stuff with your doctor. She also told me it was illegal. After finally realizing how wrong it was, I stopped coming to my sessions. I stayed away, hoping it would make it all stop, but it didn’t. She started to call me constantly, telling me that I couldn’t just break off my treatment—that I would end up getting even sicker. And one night, I woke up because she was hammering on my door at night. I opened it, and she grabbed me by the neck, then pushed me up against the wall behind me. Then she told me what she had done to her former clients—how she had kept his girlfriend caged in her basement, how she had murdered him afterward and pinned the murder of the girl on him. Then she told me she’d do the same to me. She’d lock me up if I didn’t come back to her—to our sessions. She also threatened to send pictures of me, naked pictures of us together to my family, to my parents if I went to the police. They couldn’t know I was bisexual. It would kill them. My brother is gay, and he never dared to tell them.”
“So that’s why you left?”
“It was the only way out. That night, I packed my stuff and left without a word to anyone, not Tommy, not my brother. I just ran
away, drove to the beach, and found a small motel where I could stay. I started a new life out there, hoping she wouldn’t be able to find me. How was I supposed to know she’d kill Tommy? It broke me completely when I read about it on Facebook. But I didn’t even dare to come to the funeral. For all I knew, she could have killed him just to make me come out of hiding. I was scared of her. I lived every day in fear that she might show up or that she would send those pictures to my parents. I didn’t dare go to the police, especially since I believed it was all my own fault. I wanted her to have sex with me. I started it myself.”
I placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “That’s what she made you believe. It’s called gaslighting. When someone makes you doubt your own sanity, your own actions, and perception of the situation.”
Tears filled Sarah’s eyes. “I felt so awful. I thought I could start over—get a new life away from her.”
“But then, somehow, she found you anyway, huh? You knew she might, and that’s why you warned Scott. You feared ending up in the basement like Joanna. So, you told him to look for you if you ever disappeared. And he did. He sent me. At first, I thought he hurt you. I thought that was why you put that gun in his face, but you did it because you knew Lynn would come for you. You were trying to keep him out of it. Lynn was looking for you, and you knew that. You did it to protect him, right? Because you love him.”
Sarah wiped her tears. I smiled gently.
“You can’t blame yourself, Sarah. What happened with Lynn wasn’t your fault. She manipulated and groomed you. She formed an attachment that was too strong and exploited your vulnerability. She did it with other patients, too; she made them fulfill her own needs. She made you want her. She made you feel like you were in love with her. She knew better than to do that. As a therapist, she knows about transference—when the patient thinks they’re in love with their therapist, but really, it’s an unmet need from her childhood, usually from a parent that she’s projecting upon the therapist. It’s perfectly normal. Lynn should have known better. Instead, she nourished it and made it grow so strong so her patients would do anything for her. What she wanted became what you wanted, and then she could have her way with you. But it’s over now, Sarah,” I said. “It’s all over now.”
Sarah looked up at me with relief in her eyes, and for one unforgivable second, I let my eyes wander away from Lynn on the couch to meet Sarah’s glare. When I saw the fear striking Sarah’s eyes as her look fell on what was behind me, it was too late.
Chapter 73
There was a tray on the coffee table. It was made of thick glass and held floral decorations. Lynn had gotten ahold of it, and, seconds later, she smashed it into the back of my head. The pain felt like an explosion, and I saw white before my eyes as I crumpled to my knees. I didn’t even feel the gun being taken out of my hand, but it wasn’t there when I finally came to myself again. Confused, I lifted my hurting head, felt the blood on the back, then saw Sarah being dragged across the floor by the hair while she was screaming. I could hear the screams, but it sounded like she was underwater. It took me a few seconds to compose myself just enough to react. By then, I saw that the sledgehammer was gone, and as I stumbled to my feet, fear jolting through my body, I saw the hammer being lifted in the kitchen, swung through the air, and I heard it fall, hitting something below, crushing something.
Or someone.
I screamed.
“NO!”
I jolted forward, rushing ahead, then felt dizzy and tripped over my own feet, falling flat before I managed to get up again and push myself forward, heart throbbing, tears springing to my eyes.
Oh, my God. She killed Sarah. She killed her!
I saw the blood as I came closer and could barely breathe. I saw Lynn standing above her, one foot on either side of Sarah’s hips, still holding the end of the sledgehammer. I was blinking my eyes to see correctly as my sight was still blurry, and it felt like I was in the middle of a dream. Narrowing my eyes to better focus, I looked for the other end of the hammer. It was lodged in Sarah’s torso, in her shoulder as she had tried to roll away just as it came down on her. The shoulder looked to be in an odd position, dislocated, and now Sarah was screaming.
But screaming meant she was alive.
The question was for how long.
Lynn didn’t seem to have noticed me. She was focused on her task and pulled the hammer back up into the air, getting herself ready to swing it at Sarah again. Sarah was screaming like a wounded animal, and I knew that she wouldn’t be able to move this time. Her shoulder had been crushed. She was frozen in pain, maybe even drifting into unconsciousness. Meanwhile, the hammer lingered in the air above her as Lynn got ready to let it fall on her again.
What do I do?
I did the only thing I could do. I gathered myself, then stormed with everything I had, all I knew how to, toward her. I blasted into her by her hips and pushed her away. Lynn screamed, and the hammer was dropped, falling on my arm hard. I tumbled on top of Lynn, screaming in pain as she kicked and pushed me, trying to get me off her.
She got to her feet, then went for the gun she had put on the kitchen counter while I struggled to get back up, my arm pounding. When I finally got up, she was standing in front of me with the gun pointed at me. Her nostrils were flaring, her eyes manic.
She didn’t even say anything.
She simply pulled the trigger.
But right when she did, somehow, Sarah had gotten herself onto her feet and managed to grab a plate on the counter and throw it at her. The plate hit Lynn straight in the face, causing her to fall back right when the gun went off. The bullet whistled through the air and hit the cabinets behind me.
A second later, I was on top of Lynn, pinning her down with my one good arm. I sat on her—not letting her move an inch—until the police and EMTs arrived.
Chapter 74
It was four in the morning before I finally made it back home, my arm heavily bandaged. It wasn’t fractured, they told me at the hospital, and I had suffered a concussion from the hit with the glass tray, but I was good to go home if I made sure I got a lot of rest. I wasn’t sure I could live up to that promise with two babies in the house, but I didn’t tell the doctor that.
I opened my front door and stepped into the living room, feeling all kinds of exhausted. I threw my keys on the small table by the door, turned on the lights, then gasped, startled.
“Matt?”
He was sitting in the recliner, staring at me.
“Gosh, you scared me,” I said, clasping my chest.
He didn’t wince. He stared at me, his eyes dark and sinister.
“I waited for you,” he said.
I looked at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about.
“Oh, no,” I said as the dime dropped. “You went to Pompano’s?”
He nodded. “I waited three hours. I called you and texted you, but nothing.”
I looked at the display on my phone. It was pitch black.
“It died hours ago,” I said. “That’s why I didn’t call from the hospital. Plus, I knew you were all probably sleeping. I wanted to tell you everything in the morning. I didn’t have time to call earlier or text you back. It was a matter of life and death.”
“It always is, isn’t it?” he said.
I approached him with an exhale. I rubbed my forehead. “All right, maybe I could have called you back. I did see that you had tried to reach me earlier, but to be honest, I didn’t want to fight with you, and I didn’t have time to explain what was going on. I didn’t want you to get mad at me. I had promised not to deal with this case anymore. I just couldn’t, Matt. You must understand that. I can’t not care.”
“Just not about those that love you.”
“That’s not fair, Matt.”
“It’s not?”
I sat down in the recliner in front of him. I could hear my dad snoring lightly by the fireplace. They were leaving in the morning. I was looking forward to getting the house back, but I was sad
to see them go.
“I found Sarah Abbey tonight, Matt. I was right. She was in great danger. I actually saved her if it’s of any interest.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, well, she got badly hurt, and they’re not sure her shoulder will ever be normal again, but she’s alive. She and Scott can be reunited. You do know that’s what this was all about, right?”
“I’ve had my doubts.”
I stared at him while remembering the kiss Scott and I had shared. I didn’t like how much I thought about it. It wasn’t so much the kiss, or Scott, as it was the fact that I had let it happen and enjoyed it.
I leaned back in the recliner.
“Anyway, it’s over now. I handed the case over to the Winter Park Police Department, and I am letting it go now. Everything can get back to normal.”
He lifted his eyebrows.
“Normal? And just exactly what is that? Please, tell me because I honestly don’t know.”
I stared at him, scrutinizing him. I guess you could say I was looking for what I had fallen in love with in the first place.
I couldn’t find it.
“You know what?” I said.
His eyes met mine. “No, but I have a feeling you’ll tell me.”
“I am sick of this.”
He threw out his arms. “Me too.”
“I am sick and tired of having the same fight over and over again,” I said. “And to be honest, I can’t really find the reason to keep going.”
He paused, his eyes scrutinizing me.
“What are you saying?”
His lips slightly quivered when he said it. He thought I didn’t notice.
“I’m saying that I think you should move out—you and Elijah. I need time to think. I need to figure out what it is I really want because it’s not this. I have rushed from one relationship, which ended in a bad divorce, and thrown myself directly into your arms, and I am beginning to think it was too soon.”