by Laurèn Lee
Morning commuters were only beginning to flood the roads. The sun was only starting to rise high into the morning sky. I shouldn’t have any problem getting into my office unseen. Luckily, the parking ramp connected directly to the building. I’d take the elevator from the ramp to my office’s floor. I’d probably not see a single soul.
After an hour, a cup of coffee, and splashing my face with cool water, I nearly felt myself again. Almost. I dressed in a beige pencil skirt with a simple black blouse to match. I didn’t look half bad.
My first and only patient of the day arrived promptly at nine o’clock. I opened the door to greet him and was eager to delve into someone’s twisted thoughts to escape my own. Frank Niner was in his mid-sixties. He suffered severe PTSD and depression. Several years ago, he had been driving in a car with his wife and children.
Frank didn’t think anything of driving. He said he’d only had a few drinks at dinner. However, he lost control of the car and ended up hitting a power line. His wife died immediately, and his teenage children in the backseat suffered irreparable damage and later passed away in the hospital. Frank left the scene without a scratch. His family had died, and he didn’t even have a bruise.
He’d begun coming to therapy with me shortly after the accident. He needed help coping with the loss of his family and getting his life back on track. After the crash, Frank refused to drive a car. In fact, it took him weeks before he could even get into the backseat of one. We’d steadily been making progress throughout our sessions. He was now able to drive himself to our appointments. However, he said he still dreamt about his family and often woke up screaming, blanketed in a sheet of sweat.
“Hi, Frank. How are you doing today?”
“Not so good, Doc,” he said sniffling.
I handed Frank a tissue, “Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s today.”
“What’s today, Frank?”
“The anniversary of the crash,” he whispered.
Of course. I had it marked down on my calendar but didn’t look over my notes for today before the appointment, which was very unlike me.
“I’m sorry, Frank. Did you sleep at all?”
“No. I kept having nightmares about the crash. I’d wake up and eventually fall back asleep, but when I did, I’d slip back into the same dream. The nightmares never stopped.”
“It’s not uncommon for anniversaries to bring back emotional trauma. It’s healthy you are feeling so strongly right now. It’s better to feel than to bury your emotions, Frank.”
We talked more about his present life, how he’s been managing living alone. He’d started to date, even went out with one particular woman several times. I’d been very proud of Frank’s progress. He was almost a different man than when he’d begun his therapy with me.
“Well, Frank. I believe we had a good session today. It might be pleasant to visit your family and bring flowers. Tell them, ‘Hello.’”
“Thanks, Doc. That’s a good idea.”
Frank stood to hug me. He was a hugger by nature. Typically, I tried to avoid too much physical touching with my patients. It could confuse someone. But, in Frank’s case, I always let it slide. He was a sweet older man meaning no harm. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, whispering many thanks for helping him. However, as soon as his arms encompassed my body, it was though a lightning strike had directly hit me and I began to scream with a ferocity no one could’ve predicted.
“Please, stop! No! Don’t touch me!”
Frank let go immediately and backed away in terrible fear he had hurt me. I finally caught my breath and snapped back into reality.
“Oh my, Frank. I’m sorry.”
Tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Doc. Did I hurt you?”
“No, no, of course not. I'm sorry. I’ve recently gone through a little bit of a traumatic experience myself. I hope you understand.”
Frank nodded his head and left without saying goodbye.
That session had been our very last meeting. Frank wrote me a polite letter thanking me for my help, but he’d decided he wanted to pursue another therapist. It turns out maybe the crazy can’t help the crazy, after all.
27
EVENING HERALD
Questioning Continues
Captain Moonie has confirmed they released James Hedley after several hours of questioning yesterday. Officials are desperately trying to pin down the killer of Helena Woodruff and her unborn baby, but it appears Hedley isn’t the killer.
“Hedley had a clear-cut alibi,” Captain Moonie said. “We also couldn’t find any information to confirm they’d had a falling out either. We’re back to square one.”
DNA tests will be conducted later today to see if James Hedley is the father of the deceased’s child.
28
Present
“Delilah!” Lucas called out, trailing me down the street away from the coffee shop.
“Lucas, I’d like to be alone. Please go away.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Please leave me be,” I urged.
“I don’t want to leave you right now,” he walked next to me. “Let me help you.”
“You want to help me? Okay great,” I stopped walking and turned to face him, “Help me forget this is happening to me. Help me forget my husband is cheating on me with another woman. Help me forget my husband is going to become a father.”
Lucas held my hands within his. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong.
“We can get through this together, Delilah. I promise.”
He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me, rubbing the small of my back. It felt wrong to let him comfort me, but it also felt so damn good. I felt safe in his arms. I put my arms around his neck and absorbed every single detail about him I possibly could. I breathed in his charcoal cologne. I felt his beard stubble against my forehead. I listened to his breathing as his chest rose and fell. I never wanted him to let me go.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
Much to my dismay, Lucas let me go and stepped back. “You don’t have to keep this as your story.”
“What do you mean?”
“This doesn’t have to be your life,” he whispered.
“It is my life, though.”
“You can rewrite it, Delilah. Be your own author. Change your story.”
I pondered for a few minutes trying to figure out what Lucas meant by this. How could I possibly change my story? The only way I could prevent the future from happening was if I removed some of the players in the game. I’d have to get rid of certain characters.
Wait…
“You don’t mean--?”
“Yes.”
My head exploded. I knew what Lucas was insinuating. I knew what he was thinking.
“We need to go someplace more private. We can’t talk about this here,” I looked around like a paranoid criminal about to rob a bank.
“Come to my house; we can talk there.”
I bit my lip in thought. If I went to Lucas’ house, I would be violating a hundred patient-therapist rules. There’d be no going back once this conversation began. I’d mostly be closing the door and venturing down a dark, twisted new path.
“Okay, let’s go.”
I followed Lucas in my car as we drove to his mansion on top of a hill just outside the city. Each house had acres of land to itself, and it wouldn’t surprise me if each mansion cost several million dollars. This was what his act of murder paid for, unfortunately. This was how Lucas lived.
I drove up the winding driveway and parked behind Lucas. Once I got out of my car, I turned around and realized Lucas’ house stood at a higher altitude than all the rest. I could look down upon the neighborhood as though we were on top of a mountain. We were at the top, and Lucas was the king.
“Like the view?” he asked.
“It’s breathtaking,” I said awestruck.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
&n
bsp; I followed him to the front door, which he unlocked and allowed me to enter first. My jaw dropped again as I gazed at the house for the very first time. Gorgeous chandeliers hung from high ceilings, artwork covered the walls, and the hardwood floors were immaculate.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“It’s a little too early for wine, I think.”
“It’s never too early. You don’t have any patients today, right?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Perfect, then let’s have a drink.”
“Lucas, you know if I stay I probably should release you as my patient. I’m crossing a line just walking into your house.”
“Who says we have to follow the rules?” he smirked.
I couldn’t argue with him. He had a magical effect which stunned me into agreement every time he offered up a suggestion, no matter how crass or inappropriate. I didn’t typically like someone having a hold over me. If it had to be anyone, I wasn’t complaining it was Lucas.
He handed me a full glass of red wine, “Would you like a tour?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I set my glass down and followed him as he showed me each and every room in his massive abode. After a while, I even lost count how many rooms he’d shown me. There’s no way a single man needed this much space.
“And this room… This is my bedroom.”
He opened the door and exposed a large master bedroom, complete with magnificent paintings and a king-sized bed.
“Your house is spectacular.”
“Thank you. Although, it looks much better with a beautiful woman inside of it.”
He stood behind me as I looked around the room. I could feel his warm breath upon my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I tilted my head back, so it rested upon Lucas’ perfectly sculpted chest. My pulse quickened, and I started losing control of my breathing.
“Lucas,” I began.
He rubbed my shoulders and massaged my back. I moaned in euphoria. His grip steadied me and also allowed me to escape my thoughts.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
“But I’m so glad you are.”
I could feel something else pulsing against me, and it wasn’t Lucas’ chest as he inhaled and exhaled. I wanted to give in so badly. I wanted him more than words could ever adequately describe. I’d never felt such painful admiration. I could do it. I could succumb to my carnal desire. I could let myself fall even deeper for Lucas. What would it matter? What would I have to lose at this point? Love had failed me. Maybe lust could save me?
Just as I was about to let Lucas take the next step, my phone rang obnoxiously loud, snapping me instantly out of the fog I’d allowed myself to become lost within.
“It’s okay, you can answer it,” Lucas softly spoke into my ear.
I nodded, taking my phone out of my pocket and looked down to the caller ID. It was James.
29
Past- Sixteen Months Ago
In the doctor’s office, James and I sat in complete and utter silence. He wouldn’t look at me, and I wouldn’t look up long enough to see if he was watching me.
I was over a month late. I hadn’t taken a pregnancy test yet because I didn’t want to get mine or James’ hopes up too soon. I told him I was late and he immediately called my OB and scheduled an appointment for both of us to come in.
Dressed in my paper smock, I wondered if I could truly be pregnant. Would I be able to carry this child to term if I was in fact, with child? If the child survived, how would I ever be able to look him or her in the face, knowing exactly how I conceived them?
A light rap on the door signaled the doctor was about to enter our patient room. I put on a faux smile and prepared for my life to change for the better, or for the worse.
“Dr. Hedley, Mr. Hedley,” my doctor nodded toward each of us. “I have your test results here.”
“Well?” My smile faded, waiting was always the hardest part.
“I’m afraid the tests came back negative,” he began.
My heart sank and James lowered his head into his hands.
“I’m very sorry. I know you were hoping for better news,” he paused. “Your cycle could be thrown off due to high amounts of stress or a change in diet and exercise. Has anything in your lives changed dramatically in the last few weeks?”
I thought back to the night when James threw me onto the bed and ignored my pleas for him to stop, for him to get off of me.
“No. Nothing’s changed.”
Without a word, James abruptly stood and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Delilah, is everything okay?” My doctor looked at me with the utmost concern in his eyes.
“Everything is fine. Thank you for your time, but I really must be going now,” I smiled faintly.
He nodded and shook my hand before exiting the room. I pushed away a single tear falling down my cheek before I took off my smock, threw it away and got dressed.
In the car, I could feel the animosity radiating off of James. I knew punishment would come, as he’d surely blame me once again for failing to conceive a child. The tension grew with every passing moment, and I flinched any time James moved in the driver’s seat. I felt as though I was a badly misbehaved dog about to be reprimanded for chewing my owner’s favorite shoes.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
James grunted as he turned onto our street. “You’re completely worthless. What kind of woman can’t even get pregnant?”
This one, apparently.
James had grown up with a woman who granted his every wish, a woman who denied him nothing. He still hadn’t quite gotten used to having a woman in his life who couldn’t give him every single thing he ever wanted.
30
EVENING HERALD
DNA Results Come Back Positive
Our laboratory has concluded and confirmed James Hedley is, in fact, the father of Helena Woodruff’s unborn child.
“I always knew I was the father. There was no question in my mind,” Hedley said after we reached out for comment.
According to Hedley, he wanted the child and had no reason to hurt Helena or their unborn girl. Hedley declined to comment further and asked for privacy during this time.
Hedley’s office has confirmed he’s planning to take a leave of absence and has no definite timeline to return to work.
31
Present
“I need to take this, I’m sorry.”
Lucas backed away from me and walked over to his window to peer outside. He tensed up as soon as my phone rang and saw it was my husband. Maybe he was jealous? Maybe he was angry the phone call prevented him from taking me bed.
“Hello?”
“Delilah, where are you? You said you’d call me right after your meeting with Helena.”
Hearing her name reintroduced a visceral feeling of rage and disgust. I’d almost forgotten about the day’s previous events. Almost.
“I needed some time to think,” I said.
“What did you say to her?” he hissed. “She called me in tears as soon as you left.”
“I’m sorry I may have offended your mistress, James. I was a little preoccupied with finding out she is pregnant with your child.”
Silence.
“Seems like you forgot to mention that little detail.”
“Where are you?”
“What does it matter to you?”
“I need you to come home so we can talk about all this. We need to discuss it right now, Delilah.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I ‘need’ to do. I will come home when I damn well please. Why don’t you call back your dear Helena and comfort her? Sounds like she could use a shoulder to cry on.”
Furious, I hung up and threw my phone across the room, smashing it against the opposite wall. Lucas continued to stare out of the window, to what exactly, I had no idea.
“Lucas?”
“Hmmm?”
“Tell me what it felt like to kill your
parents.”
“Didn’t we already go over this in therapy?”
“Tell me again,” I urged.
Lucas turned around but remained standing in front of the window. He shifted his weight, so he stood more in the middle of the window, creating almost an eclipse effect. The sun shone brightly behind him, and he glowed like a mythical statue.
“Killing makes you feel like the most powerful person in the world. It makes you feel like God. You have another person’s life in your hands. You can choose to keep them alive, or you can decide differently. You make a choice. You are in control.”
“Were you scared when you finally decided to do it?” I murmured.
“No, it wasn’t fear that I felt. It wasn’t remorse either. Just dominance.”
“Did you ever think there could be another way?”
“I had no choice, Delilah. Once I imagined killing them, it was the only option.”
“Do you regret it?”
“I feel absolutely no regret for what I did.”
He walked closer to me, leaving his stance in front of the window. With every step he took, he began to tower over me once again. With every step, I felt powerless against him. I wanted to feel the certainty he once felt. I wanted to feel the power and control he once had.
“So, you really did kill your parents? You’re not messing with me?”
“I really did, Delilah.”
“Will you help me take care of Helena?”
“I was wondering when you’d ask.”
Later that evening, I arrived home hoping James would already be in bed. It was nearly midnight, and I hadn’t been home all day. I didn’t want to leave, but James wouldn’t stop calling and texting me. I came home to end the annoyance of constant communication. It turns out, my phone wasn’t completely damaged. Only the screen shattered, but the phone itself remained functional.