The Patient

by Steena Holmes

  Everything felt like that lately. Blurry. Uncertain.

  “You want to protect her.”

  My head snapped up.

  “It’s okay,” Dr. Brown said. “It’s okay to be hesitant with revealing truths we know from our patient sessions. Let me ask you a few questions, and maybe that will help. Do you believe she’s a danger to herself?”

  “No.”

  “Do you believe she’s a danger to others?”

  I hesitated to answer this one. Danger as in how? Did I believe she was physically going to hurt another person? No.

  “Danielle?”

  I sighed, and the wire of my bra dug into my ribs as my chest expanded.

  “It’s Ava.” It felt like a brick had been pushed off my chest, freeing my lungs to breathe easier the moment I said the words. I felt lighter.

  “Ava?”

  “Tyler’s girlfriend. Ella’s roommate.”

  “Danielle?” Dr. Brown licked her lips and tilted her head. “Who is Ava?”

  I forgot I hadn’t told her about the woman. Everything I’d learned was new to her.

  “Ella’s roommate and previous cellmate. She’s also Tyler’s girlfriend. I think. Or maybe there are two Avas. I don’t know. Honestly, at first I thought Ava was made up, Ella’s imagined friend, but . . .” I dropped my head into my hands. I didn’t know anymore. It all felt too . . . convoluted.

  “I have a recording. From Tyler. He dropped by the house last night, frantic, worried, even slightly crazed, and I had a migraine. He didn’t know I recorded him. I should have told him, but I didn’t think it would be an issue. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything, and with my migraines, I do. All the time, I miss things.” I babbled, like a speeding car along the freeway, weaving in and out among the slower vehicles, never headed in a straight line.

  She was not following me. I could read it in her eyes, her confusion, in the way she squinted at me, how her pen was poised above her notepad but she wasn’t sure what to write.

  I fumbled with my phone and found the recording.

  “Danielle—”

  “Let me play it,” I interrupted her. “You’ll understand better once you hear him.”

  I played the recording.

  “My girlfriend is missing. We had a huge argument because she’s been . . . She just hasn’t been home.” Tyler’s voice was loud and clear. I peeked up to watch Dr. Brown’s reaction.

  She had an intense look on her face. Good—she was paying attention.

  “Can you start it over, from the beginning?” Dr. Brown asked. This time, her pen furiously scratched her paper.

  I started the recording over again. By the time Tyler admitted he was scared about what his girlfriend, Ava, was doing, she asked me to stop.

  “When did you record this?”

  “Last night. I was trying to fend off a migraine when he drove up.”

  “Tyler?”

  I nodded. “Yes, he’s the only male patient I have.”

  The way she studied me, I felt uncomfortable. I looked away, down toward my phone.

  “I don’t know what to do with this,” I confessed. “I need to tell Tami. I know that. I should have told her a long time ago. About the notes, about Ella’s roommate, about Tyler. She warned me he wasn’t who he pretended to be, but . . . what if he’s mixed up in the murders? What if he’s helping her? Tami mentioned it could be a team, which would make sense. Tyler has been so desperate for Ava to love him, accept him, that he would do anything for her.”

  I looked up then with alarm. Fear flooded my body as I realized what I’d just said.

  “I thought it was Ella. I’ve been so afraid that the notes were about Ella. I thought in our last session that Ava, her roommate, was made up, and I’ve been afraid . . .” I couldn’t continue, so I buried my head in my hands, my fingers lightly massaging my temple.

  “I can’t help her,” I finally managed to say. The knowledge hit hard. It was devastating. The truth had eluded me for so long because I didn’t want to see it, to acknowledge it. But I couldn’t help her.

  “Can you?” I lifted my gaze to hers and wiped the tears that beaded on my lashes. “Can you help her? Please?” My soul fractured into a million pieces at my admission, and I wasn’t sure I could ever fix myself.

  I couldn’t read Dr. Brown. She was a blank slate. I had no idea what she thought or even felt. There was absolutely no vibe coming off her. “I think I need some time off. To start focusing on myself,” I said to fill in the silence. “There’s a reason I’m sleepwalking. A reason I have all these migraines. A reason I’m failing my patients. I need to heal myself before I can help anyone else.” I swallowed hard, not giving Dr. Brown a chance to speak. “Can you, I mean, will you take on Tyler, Ella, and Savannah? Can you help them? Find them someone they can trust? Someone who can help them better than I have?” I begged, unashamed. She nodded, and a sob jerked from my chest, the pain of that ball of emotion tearing me as it came out.

  “Of course, Danielle. Of course I will help. I’ll make sure they’re in the best hands.” Dr. Brown cleared her throat and looked toward her office window.

  “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I choked, the tears flowing down my face, the pain inside me a mixture of relief and guilt. “I feel like the lid on everything I’ve been afraid of—everything I’ve pushed away, pushed into a box so I wouldn’t have to deal with it—has come off. Everything wants to come out, and it’s too much. My natural response will be to box my emotions back in. I need you to help me not do that.” I couldn’t believe how much poured out of me. A waterfall of words and emotions cascaded down to the rocks below. Without Dr. Brown’s help, I’d smash to my death on those rocks.

  Where she had frowned before, now she smiled.

  “I’m here. I will do everything I can to help you and the others.”

  Her words eased something inside me.

  “Danielle, can you send me that recording? And any others you’ve made with your patients?”

  I nodded, relief flooding me, knowing I didn’t have to do this alone anymore.

  “For the rest of our session, would you mind if we focused on you? I know you want to talk about Ella and Tyler and Savannah, but right now, you’re more important. Is that all right?”

  I nodded.

  “I find your choice of words interesting. Boxing your emotions in.” She outlined a box in the air with her index finger. “Do you feel you do that, or is that a term you use with your patients?”

  I shrugged, which was followed by her come-on-now-Danielle-you-know-better look.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I do that. It’s not healthy, I understand that, but it’s a process I learned early on from my father. It’s something he used to say to me, to put those feelings into a box and move on. It’s ingrained in me.” It was basically a do-what-I-say-but-not-what-I-do scenario.

  “Is there anything else you place in that box, Danielle?”

  I shook my head.

  “I wonder, how many boxes do you think you have?”

  Interesting question, one I’d never thought about.

  “After all these years, probably a lot.”

  In my head I pictured one in particular. It was tiny, pink, and trimmed with a white satin ribbon. Almost like a coffin, except the more I focused on it, the more it looked like a canopy bed, one of the old Victorian ones you’d expect to find in a Southern plantation home or in a palace.

  It was the type of bed any little girl would want. It must have been my bed as a child, except I was pretty sure my bed was just white.

  “What are you thinking, Danielle?” Dr. Brown asked, her words coming through the fog I’d found myself in.

  “You’d think I’d have a lot of boxes, right? For my emotions, for my patients, for my own personal life. But when I think about it, all I see is one little box that is more girly than anything I’ve ever had in my life,” I reminisced under my breath.

  “Describe it to me.” Th
ere was a hushed level of excitement in her voice. When I looked at her, her eyes were lit with interest, her lips pursed as if in thought.

  Why did she care about it so much? What did it say about me? About my emotions? About what I was going through?

  Was there some hidden Freudian euphemism I didn’t know about?

  “It’s a box fit for a little girl. Pink, with ribbon, pretty and soft. Something that would be used for dress-up clothes or special childhood items.” I swallowed, unsure if I really wanted to admit the rest about the bed.

  I knew the first thoughts that came to mind when anyone brought up images or memories pertaining to beds or bedrooms, especially for children.

  “Where was this box?”

  I didn’t want to answer, and she knew it.

  “I’m really not sure,” I hedged.

  “Why don’t you try to focus on it,” she suggested. “Maybe look at the lid. Does it have a lock, or can you open it easily?” She leaned forward even more, as if she were about to catch her toddler from tumbling after their first set of steps.

  “Danielle, work with me, please?” She tempered the excitement in her voice, but it was still there, in the way she smiled, the grip on her pen, the sway of her shoe as she recrossed her legs.

  I closed my eyes.

  Dr. Brown would take that as a sign that I’d focused on the box like she requested, that I’d attempted to take off that lid and peer inside.

  I only closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see her face, to feel the pressure and the guilt of doing something I knew could be both helpful and harmful at the same time.

  Nothing good came from opening boxes hidden away in the recesses of your mind.

  Nothing.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 29

  For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace. It didn’t feel real, like at any moment that blissful, relaxed feeling would disappear. Logically, I knew it would, but for the next few minutes, I’d live in the moment, embrace it, and maybe collapse on the couch to sleep.

  I sent Tami a quick text to let her know I was home and to update her on the new direction I was on. I was taking a leave of absence from my practice, and Dr. Brown was taking over my patients. Things wouldn’t be official until Monday, but I’d already left messages for Tyler, Savannah, and Ella, explaining what was happening.

  Tami texted back, telling me how proud of me she was for making that choice.

  Dr. Brown just wanted me to focus on me. It would be hard but, in the end, worth it. It had to be worth it.

  I curled up on the couch and closed my eyes, waiting for the blissful darkness to take hold.

  A while later, my eyes popped open, and I sat upright, my heart pounding. I was in a brain fog, searching the room for what had startled me until I noticed a face pressed against my window. Wild eyes stared back at me before a solid pounding on the glass had me bolting to my feet.

  My hands shook. My heart was about to push out of my chest. My nostrils flared as I was about to—

  “Dr. Rycroft, I need to talk to you.” Tyler pounded his fist on my window again. “Please let me in.”

  For the love of . . . Tyler?

  It took me a moment to find my breath. I waved him toward the front door, where I waited for him, my heart still pounding, my hands still shaking. It was late. Why was he here?

  “Dr. Rycroft, thank you.” Tyler ran up the steps to my door and squeezed past. “I won’t stay long, I promise.”

  “Next time use the doorbell, please.” I sounded harsh, but he was lucky I didn’t box his ears for scaring me.

  I followed him into my office and sat in my chair with as much calmness as I could muster.

  “I . . . I wanted to talk with you before I did something.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands together, while he looked me directly in the eyes.

  His gaze wasn’t steady. It was frantic, shifting, and his legs bounced. He was on edge, and I needed to calm him down.

  “Tyler, it’s okay,” I said. “You’re in a safe place now.”

  His eyes blazed bright, cheeks crimson, and his lips cracked like dying leaves.

  “You don’t understand. It’s not okay. It hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve got . . . I’ve got to stop her.”

  “Ava?”

  “I can’t let this continue. It’s not right.”

  “What do you need to stop her from doing?” I was asking a question I already knew the answer to. It was all clear to me now.

  “Tyler, do you mind if I record this?” I asked a lot, I knew, especially after leaving that message on his phone that he was being transferred to another therapist.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. You can use that when the police come. You have my permission. Wait”—he reached his hand out—“should I repeat that on the recording?”

  “What do you mean, when the police come?” I looked up, out my office window, as if they were there.

  “You don’t know? Haven’t you figured it out yet?” He leaned forward to hit the record button on my phone. “Hurry up, before it’s too late.”

  “Tyler, I’m going to record everything you tell me today. Do you agree?” The words were a little hard to get out, like my tongue was swollen.

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. If the police need this as proof of what I’ve told you, use it.”

  There was a look on his face, like he was waiting for something.

  “Tyler?”

  He nodded. “Okay, okay. Good. Hurry.”

  Why such a rush?

  I rubbed an area at the top of my neck where an air bubble pulsed in my head. There was a pressure point at the back that, if found, could help negate headaches. I pushed as hard as I could because I knew any moment the sharp pains would begin.

  “Ava.” He swallowed. “Ava is . . .”

  I didn’t find the pressure point in time, and a jackhammer went off in my brain, the entry point right in the center of my head, and everything turned black, silent, and for a brief minute, I was adrift, floating in an oasis of nothing.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  There was a loud pounding on my front door that brought me back into the moment.

  I stood shakily.

  “No, don’t. Please. Please don’t let her in.” Tyler blocked the door, hands spread wide, pleading with me.

  “Tyler, please move.”

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Let me in, you little shit. I know you’re in there.” The doorknob jiggled, then turned, and a woman I’d never seen before barged her way in.

  Tyler stood in front of me as if to shield me.

  “Ava, don’t. Please.”

  This was Ava? Tall, dark hair pulled into a messy bun, ripped jeans, and a black tank top over a solid body. For some reason, I pictured her more . . . rough looking.

  “Danielle.” Ava pushed past Tyler, forced him out of the way, and pulled me into a hug. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this day.” Her smile was warm, welcoming, and her eyes scrutinized me as if reading my reaction.

  Tyler stumbled to the couch and sat down with a thump, his body trembling with earthquake-strength tremors.

  “Please, Danielle, sit.” Ava indicated toward my chair as she joined Tyler on the couch. She placed her hand on his leg, and he stilled. Instantly.

  “Ava.” I struggled to get her name across my lips.

  “Yes. I know. This is a surprise. It’s not how I thought we’d meet, but I figured this would be easier. And less messy. Tyler,” she said with a tight smile, “doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

  He blanched at her words, and real fear entered his eyes.

  “I’m not sure I understand.” My throat dried up, my lips were parched, and my hands shook like leaves in the wind.

  “Don’t be scared, Danielle. I promise, I’m not here to hurt you. I just thought we should talk sooner rather than later.”

  I watched Tyler from the corner of my eye.r />
  This wasn’t just a little chat. Not by the way Tyler acted. Something else was going on. Something that scared him.

  “Are you here to kill me?” The words came out calm, collected, clearer than I thought they would.

  “Kill you?” She laughed.

  I noticed the way Ava squeezed Tyler’s knee, how the muscles in her arm tightened. And yet her smile, her eyes, showed none of that tension.

  She was good.

  “No, Danielle, I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to protect you. Mistakes have been made. Mistakes”—she turned to Tyler and snarled—“that I will rectify soon, but to do that, I need your help.” Her snarl disappeared, and a simplistic smile appeared in its place. “I made a promise to El—” She stopped at the same moment I stood.

  The sky outside was painted in a blaze of red and purples. That wasn’t what had caught my attention. It was the fact that those shades were due to the half dozen police cars lined up outside my house. Their lights reflected against every surface until, even with my eyes closed, it was all I could see.

  “Danielle, please, wait.” Ava stood with me and reached out as if to stop me, but I stepped away from her reach, eager to place as much distance between us as I could.

  I headed toward the front door.

  I listened to Ava berate Tyler as I walked down the hallway. She tore him apart, blamed him for everything, and it made me feel sad for him. For her. For what it meant to have the police outside my home.

  I should have been in full panic mode. Flight or fight. Run as fast as I could. And yet each step was precise. Measured. Careful. Each breath was too. Controlled. Slow. Full.

  The police, they were here for Ava. Possibly Tyler too.

  I opened the door to my home as an officer walked across my lawn toward me.

  Behind him, squad cars blocked off the street and the park, and I noticed all my neighbors rushing to the other side of the street for safety.

  That’s when it hit me. My body shook. My legs could barely handle walking down the steps as I faced the officer with a gun trained on me.