Deranged: Twisted Myths Book One

by Monica Corwin

  “Going somewhere?” Ash asked in that dark smoky bar room voice.

  “Oh you know, didn’t get all my steps in this morning. Thought I’d get some air before dinner.”

  I rubbed my skinned hands together. They stung now, and I’d have a bruise on my left knee.

  A clatter of steps came down behind me. Ash waved them off. “It’s okay. We don’t need help. I’ll take Ms. Soti back to her room.”

  “My cell.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My cell. You’ll take me back and lock me in tight, I’m sure.”

  He took a step up so he could look me in the eye. “Didn’t you admit yourself for care?”

  I glanced away, just because I complied didn’t mean I wanted to be there. My mother had shown me the cost of fighting back over the years.

  He took another step, his scent reaching me now, his body heat. “What is it? That look in your eye?”

  I turned away to start the march back up the stairs. He followed right behind. I wanted to tell him, but experience taught me it was a waste of time, of breath. When we reached the top, a nurse glared as I squeezed between her and the door. My clothes already sat on my bed. This crew worked fast, I’d give them that.

  Ash followed me into my room and closed the door. “You can talk to me.”

  I sat on the bed, and he shifted to kneel in front of me. “I’m here to help you.”

  I scooted away, out of reach. “No, you can’t help me. No one can. I’m sure you already got the call from the trustees.”

  “Actually, we had lunch.”

  Realization dawned. “Oh yeah, I forgot she is about to start a run for president. The extra care and practically empty ward make perfect sense now.”

  Why hadn’t she just thrown me in jail this time. Oh wait, with me in jail, it would mean a scandal. Me in the hospital meant she could further her health care reform bills and play the doting mother for the cameras.

  A warm weight on my knee dragged me back to him kneeling in front of me. I squashed the urge to run my fingers through his curls.

  “You’re just as much a pawn in her game as I am.”

  I pushed his hand off me. For both our sakes.

  He allowed it. “Talk to me. Tell me what you think is happening, and we can break it down bit by bit.”

  I chuckled. “You think I’m paranoid. Go on, Doc. Add it to my chart. It makes as much sense as the rest.”

  He stood and stared down at me. “I have to check you for more bobby pins.”

  I shrugged and tilted my head down. I shouldn’t like his strong fingers rubbing against my scalp so much. I couldn’t help but melt as he took out the pins one by one.

  A sense of something…pride, satisfaction, shot through me as he put distance between us the second he finished his search.

  “We have our first session tomorrow. Get some rest and behave. Please.”

  I couldn’t help but bait him. “You learned last night. I’m not very good at behaving.”

  He glared at the door, but no one was around.

  “We’ll talk more about that tomorrow when we are alone.”

  He crossed to the door, and I watched him go. Would things be different right now if I’d been nice to him? If I’d let him take me home, play the big spoon, make him breakfast?”

  “Ash,” I said.

  He turned back, not correcting my use of his first name. For that, I said what I shouldn’t have. I gave him a glimpse no one has ever gotten. “I ran because of you. Seeing you here, in this place, in charge of this place, taints the memory of my freedom. The memory I needed to keep me sane through the next six months.”

  “I thought keeping you sane was my job.”

  I smiled as he walked out, but it was for his naivety, for his innocence. For all the things my mother would soon rob him of.

  Chapter Four

  Ash

  I woke face down on my laptop keyboard, a kink in both my back and my neck, and too much sunlight spilling in the windows. The smell of musty fabric and old dust surrounded me until I sat up and inhaled the soothing scent of coffee and breakfast cooking somewhere in the hospital. Coffee sounded so good right now.

  I checked my watch. Oh good, a few hours to clean up, eat something, and make sure my VIP didn’t successfully slip away in the night.

  I checked on Kory first. The nurses had nothing to report, and I peeked into her room. She was asleep covered with a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. I quickly checked my literally two other patients, also both asleep, and crept back to my office.

  A nurse had told me I’d find a staff room with a shower a couple floors below. I snagged my duffle bag by my office door and took the back stairs, refusing to think about Kory’s strong thighs gripping mine yesterday.

  The staff lounge was both deserted and clean, thankfully. I’d been in hospitals with worse showers than truck stop restrooms. This one appeared well maintained, and the showers were stocked with travel size bottles of soaps and shampoos. I tested the water pressure and temperature while whistling a song I’d heard on the radio over the weekend.

  I quickly stripped and hopped under the scalding hot spray. I shuddered for a moment until I adjusted to the heat. I kept travel toiletries for this situation, but the hospital’s were much nicer. The private sector knew how to seduce a man. Give me high quality toiletries, and I’d sign another control in a heartbeat. It took minutes to clean up, and considerably longer to force myself out of the shower without taking the edge off. Kory’s smile flashed in mind, and I shook my head. She was a patient for fucks sake. A reminder quickly morphing into a mantra. One I knew I’d be repeating over and over before my term ended here.

  People started to arrive for the day shift, and the sounds of lockers opening and slamming hurried me into dressing. I made it back to my office without having to exchange fake pleasantries with strangers. First things first, I needed to rearrange the place and update it. This wasn’t a good look in the seventies, and almost fifty years later, it hadn’t aged well. Not to mention the wet, lingering musty smell which seemed to permeate everything.

  I hung my lab coat and my suit jacket on the back of the door and went to work shifting things around. It wasn’t a very large space, but it would serve. I put the arm chairs near each other in front of the desk, pushed the filing cabinet to the corner, and dusted every inch. Then I watered the neglected plants, cleaned out the drawers of my desk, and sat down to breathe.

  “Not bad,” Minthe said, poking her head into the doorway. “Just seeing how you are doing. Heard you guys had some excitement last night.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. More like a misunderstanding.”

  She entered the room and looked around. “A lot cleaner in here. I’m sure your patients will appreciate it.”

  “Patient.” I corrected her. “You mean the one person I really have in my charge right now.”

  “I take it no one warned you when you took this job.”

  I threw my arms out. “No, but they were all probably locked down by contracts and NDA’s”

  She laughed. A light, sweet sound. “Oh yeah, they love those around here.”

  “Speaking of…” I stood and came around the desk to grab my jacket. “It’s almost time to earn my paycheck.”

  She ducked out the door, and I caught her entering the room further down the call. I headed the opposite way toward Kory. She sat on her bed surrounded by books again when I entered.

  “Ready?”

  She didn’t glance up. “For what?”

  “Your therapy session.”

  “No, thanks.”

  I leaned on her doorframe studying her. “Not optional, I’m afraid. Hospital policy.”

  “And is it your policy to play confessors for every girl you fuck?”

  Ouch. Between the eyes with that one. “Is it your policy to run scared at the slightest hint of a challenge?”

  She slapped her book shut. “Really, reverse psychology. Did they teach you that in m
edical school?”

  I waited, and she finally rose to her feet and followed me to my office. I let her look around while I gathered my notebook and pen. Then I directed her to one of the arm chairs while I took the other.

  “Are we really going to do this?”

  I shifted to get comfortable. “Yes, we are.”

  She sighed loud and long, and I took it as acquiescence.

  “How are you feeling today?” I began.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, just get where you are going so we can be done here.”

  My patience fizzled and frayed. “Are you always this hostile?”

  “To people holding me against my will? Yes.”

  I studied her face carefully. She meant every word of that.

  “Do you ever feel suspicious of others or question their motives?”

  She sputtered. It wasn’t the question she’d been preparing for. “What?”

  It felt good to break in a little bit. “Do you ever feel suspicious of others or question their motives?”

  She narrowed her eyes this time. “Is this some kind of trick?”

  I glanced at my notes with my next question. “Do you believe people are out to harm or trick you despite a lack of evidence?”

  I scribbled on the pad.

  “What are you writing down? I didn’t even answer the question?”

  No way I’d share that note with her. “Are you hesitant to confide in others?”

  She looked around the room as if waiting for a trap to strong. “It’s 2020. Isn’t everyone?”

  Fair point. I scanned her face again. “Do you hold grudges?”

  “Ash, tell me where you are going with this. It sounds dangerously like you have some sort of theory about a diagnosis which you are now trying to confirm.”

  “Oh, and what do you think I’m aiming for?”

  The hospitality had bled away from her features now. But something else had supplanted it. Almost, panic. “If I had to take a guess, I’m leaning toward paranoid personality disorder.”

  We’ll ok. She’d gotten that in one shot. “How did you…?”

  “I’ve read the DSM-5, twice. Way back when I was young and naïve and still thought something might actually be wrong with me.”

  “You don’t think you need help?”

  She shrugged. “Of course I need help. I need the skills of someone who can smuggle me to another country so I can hide.”

  “From your mother?”

  “Look, Ash, I understand. To you, it may seem like I’m paranoid. Why would an upstanding government official hurt her own daughter like this?”

  “And…” I prompted.

  “And…I’ve been asking myself the same question for years.”

  “You don’t think that doesn’t sound paranoid to you?”

  “Is it paranoia if it’s true?”

  I gestured at my notes. “People with paranoia think these things are true. It’s part of the lie your brain is trying to sell you.”

  She scrubbed her hands up her face. “People with paranoid personality disorder also have a difficult time forming emotional connections with other people, right?”

  “Right.”

  She met my eyes locking our gazes. “Then why haven’t I been able to stop thinking about touching you since that night at the bar?”

  Her statement hit me somewhere low in the gut. I blinked and glanced away, needing the distance. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  She grabbed my hand, and clutched it tight around my pen. “And I trust you. God help me, I’m going to regret it, but I trust you want to be a good doctor. And not just another person hired to hurt me.”

  I put my pen and the pad on the desk and took her hands in mine. I shouldn’t want to touch her, need to touch her. “No one here wants to hurt you.”

  She shook her head. “No, but no one here wants to help me either.”

  “I do. Please let me try.”

  “You want to diagnose me with something I don’t have, so I fit in one of your neat little boxes.”

  She withdrew her hands and looked away.

  I scooted closer trying to draw her out again. “Kory. Please look at me. Everything I do here is for you. I want to help you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a doctor. I took an oath.”

  “Is that all,” she pressed.

  I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. I couldn’t tell her the truth. She’s a patient, I repeated in mind for the thousandth time. “Does there need to be more of a reason?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “How about we make a deal. I promise to answer anything you ask. If you’ll do the same for me.”

  She scanned my featured in a quick flick of her eyes. “What says you won’t lie?”

  “Respect. Which I hope holds true for you as well.”

  She bounced her leg a few times, no doubt deliberating in her head. “Fine. You ask first.”

  I had to make the question count. I sat back and considered. Looking into her somber eyes, it came to me. “What do you dream of doing with your life?”

  She snorted. “Besides ruling the Underworld, you mean?”

  “No. A true answer. No hiding behind sarcasm today.”

  She looked tame again, and I felt stripped bare by her gaze. Too old a look for someone so young. “I want to open a bookstore.”

  She wouldn’t meet my eyes now, as if I’d mock her, or belittle her.

  “So all those books in your room aren’t just for decoration then?”

  That earned me a tentative smile which felt like a victory. “Go on. Your turn.”

  A wicked smile curved across her lips. Oh shit. She’s a patient. She’s a patient. She’s a patient.

  “Have you touched yourself thinking about me yet?”

  Patient. Transference. Set boundaries. My training cascaded in my head. Was it transference if we’d been intimate before the doctor/patient relationship? Shit.

  “You can’t lie,” she reminded me.

  I sat back in the chair. More distance, any distance. “I don’t need to lie. I have not done that.”

  She chuckled. “Careful Freud, your sexual repression is showing.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  She pushed out of the chair. “No, I’m my mother’s daughter. I can tell when someone is lying. You didn’t lie, but I can tell by your answer, and the way you tensed when I asked, you haven’t touched yourself. But you’ve wanted to.”

  “You’re a patient.” I looked up at her trying to make her understand.

  She leaned down, her face so close, the scent of toothpaste hitting me. “And you’re a good man.”

  A good man wouldn’t be itching to pull her onto my lap and let her feel my opinion on her asking about my masturbatory practices.

  She pulled away. “I think time’s up today. Don’t you have other patients to interrogate.”

  That brought me back to reality. I stocked now forcing her back. “Actually, I don’t. It would seem you are my only patient for a while. At least, that’s what the trustees made clear when they took me to lunch yesterday. The other couple of people in the ward are merely here for long term care.”

  “Oh good, so I have you all too myself.”

  The tension fizzled, and I opened the door. “Let me walk you back to your books. And probably lunch.”

  We remained silent until we made it to the room. “Find me yourself if you want to talk about anything.”

  She met my eyes. “The only thing I want to talk about next time is how I can make you believe me.”

  I considered her words, and she added, “If you ask me anymore questions about paranoia, we are going to have a real problem.”

  Chapter Five

  Kory

  Was it a real surprise he didn’t believe a word I said? What really hurt was his quick jump to paranoid personality disorder. I thought our time in his back seat would earn me some good will. It would seem my doctor only
felt guilt about it.

  I sat on my bed, half a peanut butter sandwich clutched in one hand. The Count in the other. I scanned the page and read aloud to myself. “It’s necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”

  I closed the book and set my sandwich on the small tray. Story of my fucking life.

  It didn’t matter I hadn’t really been focusing on the book. My mind was still firmly on Ash and my damn feelings. This six months was going to be hell.

  A knock on my door interrupted my brooding. He opened the door before I said anything.”

  “Back so soon?”

  He left the door wide open, all the way pressed against the rubber bumper. For some reason, that soothed something caustic which had been grating inside me since we talked. He was no more in control of himself than me.

  He perched his hips against the dresser at the end of the bed and crossed his arms. His silence didn’t help either of us.

  “Alright, Harriet Braiker, you’re making me nervous.” I scooted to the edge of my bed and slid my feet into the fleece-lined slippers on the floor.

  His brows drew up as he processed my response. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I’m trying to make a decision.”

  I tried to scowl at him, and no doubt failed. “Does that decision require you to interrupt my lunch and hover like a creepy person?”

  He snorted a laugh. His shoulders loosened along with the etched line of his lips. “I wanted to talk to you before I made this choice. The trustees would say I don’t have one at all, but as your doctor, I need to consider your best interests in this situation. I need to consider your treatment and recovery.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need treatment or recovery. I need a glass of bourbon and a man between my legs.” Okay that was low, even I had to admit.

  He shifted like he could scoot any further away from me. The dresser prevented him. I stood up now and sidled forward. “What’s wrong, Doc? Any other choices I can help you with?”

  He slid to the end of the dresser and braced himself at the doorway like he’d meant to do it. Like he hadn’t been running.