I swallowed. She was trying to bait me, but how or why I wasn’t sure. I held her gaze for another moment before nodding. “Sure. I want to know. How did your mother die?”
A small chill ran up my back as she looked at me. She was still smiling, but her eyes were no longer full of life and merriment. Instead they looked flat and dark, empty pools of night ringed by a thin rime of dark green. Pools that were deep and filled with terrible things ready to pull me down…
I blinked. “What did you say?”
She chuckled as she stood up. “I told you I needed to go. We’re over our time and your next patient is waiting.”
I rubbed my eyes as I rose from my chair. “He won’t mind waiting a few minutes. I wanted you to tell me what happened to your mother before we ended our session.”
Letting out a light laugh, Addison looked back at me on her journey toward the door. “Oh, I never said I’d tell you.” She waved as she went through the door and then she was gone. Harold Evans, with all his social anxieties and inability to make eye contact or speak above a whisper, stared at Addison as she passed through the outer office. It was only when I called his name that he looked back at me and came in for his session.
“That’s the last of the notes I have from Dr. Chester Bailey, dated ten years ago. Because that’s the last time you saw him, wasn’t it?”
Addison nodded. “Yep. I heard about what happened to him later.” She looked up at me, her lips twitching upward. “Very sad.”
I held her gaze. “You know, Addison, this whole act you’ve got going on here? It doesn’t work with me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t, huh?”
Smiling thinly at her, I shook my head. “Not a bit.” Standing, I started walking around the therapy room. The sounds of the footfalls were muffled—every surface was padded with dense foam cushioning, even the floor and the furniture, and Addison’s wrists were strapped into padded cuffs secured to the table she sat at. I didn’t think these precautions were necessary though. Not because she wasn’t dangerous, but because I didn’t think attacking me fit her profile or her plan. I made a point of turning my back to her as I went on.
“No, because I know who you are. Or at least I’m starting to. You’re in here for attacking a neighbor, right? Bit her thumb off, I understand. Now why would you do that? You’re very wealthy, or at least your grandfather is, and my understanding is you have a trust fund large enough that you could never spend it all. That’s the main reason you’re here instead of a jail somewhere, right? Your family supposedly pays to get you help instead of you getting locked up. Just like in high school. Just like Dr. Bailey.”
Nothing but silence behind me. Gripping my hands, I continued.
“But I have a great deal more resources than poor Dr. Bailey. And I have a greater appreciation than he did for just how dangerous you are. So I’ve researched you. Dug deep. Read all the reports, evaluations, everything from your elementary school records to your mother’s autopsy.” I turned around now so I could gauge her reaction. Addison was just watching me placidly, paying attention but seemingly unaffected. “I’ve seen enough that I don’t need to ask you those questions, Addison. I don’t need to play your games. I’ll tell you what happened to your mother and to Dr. Bailey. And after the cards are on the table, maybe we can start from a place of honesty, or at the very least, respect.”
Addison smirked slightly. “Sounds peachy. Go for it.”
Sitting back down, I ticked off points on my right hand. “Your mother’s autopsy showed ligature marks and bruising on her neck and ankles, and her body was found on one of the beds in the storm cellar. The incident report doesn’t mention these details, of course, because things were kept intentionally vague to protect you. But it doesn’t matter. The first week you were committed here, I went and reviewed the original physical file. Looked at the handful of pictures that were taken after her body was removed. One of those pictures showed the stained mattress where she voided herself as she died. The same bed you describe in your little fairy tale as the one she was laying on when you took the box from her.”
Folding my hands together, I caught her eye again. “So what happened is this. You were down there with her for whatever reason. Perhaps she had gone insane, or perhaps you tricked her down there and got her laid out on the bed somehow. The autopsy didn’t show any drugs in her system or any signs of head trauma, so that part is unclear to me. But it’s also largely unimportant. What is important is how she died.”
“You were too small to move her or easily kill her when she was awake. But just like now, you were very smart as a little girl. So you waited until she was asleep on that bed. Then you gently tied a sheet around her ankles and to the metal footboard of the bed. Not too tight, or she’d wake up. Just tight enough that when she tried to pull free in a panic, it would tighten down more. And then you prepared a second sheet. A noose, really. Because this one you slipped around her neck.”
Addison was smiling wider now, her dark gaze unblinking as she studied me, watching me like I was a stupid animal doing something funny at the zoo. “You were only seven at the time. Weighed what? Fifty pounds, maybe? But you weren’t just using your weight to pull the sheet tight around her neck were you? No, you were braced against the back of the headboard, pulling as hard as you could while your mother suffocated to death. You must have been a strong little girl.”
She nodded her head. “I’ve always been gifted with some degree of natural athleticism. Thank you for noticing.”
Frowning, I went on. “Even if everything I’ve said so far is true, it could arguably be justifiable. If she was dangerous, if she really was threatening your life, you could have just been trying to protect yourself.” Sighing, I went on. “But then we come to Dr. Bailey. Dr. Bailey, who by all accounts, was a good man, and based on everything I’ve looked at, was earnestly trying to help you.”
Addison lowered her head. “Yes, such a shame about him. Such a nice guy.”
I stood up again, standing over her. “No. You don’t get to play your games here. You don’t get to…”
She looked up at me. “Sit down.”
I backed up. I had to fight a strong compulsion to do as she asked. “You don’t tell me what…”
“Sit down and quit attacking me please. This is all very distressful and unprofessional, Dr. Bridges.”
I shuddered and went to the far corner of the room. I was losing control of this, and I just wanted to be out of the room now. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Turning away for a moment, I forced myself to calm down. She was just a twenty-five old girl with signs of narcissistic sociopathy, not Hannibal Lecter. I had to take the reins back.
I just couldn’t look at her yet. As long as I didn’t have to look at her, it would be okay.
“Harold Evans killed Dr. Bailey during their session one week after your last time meeting with Bailey. You were scheduled to meet Bailey the hour before the murder for your weekly appointment, but the logs say you called and rescheduled it the day before.”
“Why don’t you turn around, doctor?”
I jumped at her voice. I couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t meet her eyes. I had to just keep going.
“But Harold showed up for his appointment. Harold, who had no history of being violent. He was seeing Dr. Bailey for severe anxiety disorder and mild agoraphobia. That man…he tied Dr. Bailey’s feet to one end of his desk and then nearly pulled his head off with a noose.”
“It’s hard to hear you, doctor. Why don’t you show me your face?”
Shuddering, I began sidestepping for the door. “I’m going to help you, Addison, but it’s going to take time. You have to be willing to work with me.” I held up my card and the door unlocked. “That’s all for today.” I felt my stomach roiling as I opened the door and went out into the hall, narrowly shutting it behind me before I was bent over retching. What was wrong with me? I had to…
“…get ahold of yourself, Monica.”
I glared at Dr. Talpin. “Richard, don’t patronize me. I understand I crossed a line in my initial interview last week, but that’s no reason to take me off her case.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Monica, it’s not my call any more. Addison filed a complaint, the interview tape was reviewed, and yes, you were too combative for a first session. Or a tenth, if I’m being honest. But I understand what you were going for, and hell, I might even allow it if things were different. But her grandfather is friends with two people on our board and he’s already talked about donating money to the hospital. They are not willing to risk pissing him off, and right now, the best thing I can do is keep you from getting fired.”
I stood up, clenching my fists as I began pacing. “Fired? What are we even talking about? This girl is dangerous. It is documented that she broke a girl’s jaw in high school. It is documented that she bit the thumb off of a woman who lived in her apartment building just last month.” I stopped walking and pinned Richard with my gaze. “And all the things I was telling her in our interview? All true. I’m pretty certain that she killed her mother and somehow convinced Harold Evans to kill her last therapist.”
Talpin rolled his eyes. “Look, Monica. This isn’t a movie. You aren’t a detective. Even if you’re right, and that’s a really big if, that’s not our job. Our job is to assess and treat, that’s all. And don’t get me wrong. You’re a great clinician. One of our best. But taking you off this case is the right move. You’ve lost sight of the priorities here.” He looked down at random papers on his desk, as though signaling the end of the conversation through a subtle reminder of his bureaucratic authority.
I wasn’t done yet. “Have you seen how the other patients act around her? She’s gathered quite the following while she’s been in here.”
Looking irritated, Talpin glanced back up. “She’s a very charismatic, very pretty young woman who is new to the environment. It’s not unexpected that the other clients would flock to her. I imagine that will calm down as the new wears off. Either way, there’s nothing sinister about it.”
I stared at him incredulously. “Really? We’ve had three violent attacks between patients since she’s been here. Three. In a month. Before that, we hadn’t had one in years.”
Looking back down at his paperwork, Talpin began, “Monica, you’re looking for connections that simply aren’t…”
I cut him off. “And by the way, they’re patients not clients. I know all you and the fucking board care about is money, but we’re actually responsible for people’s lives and well-being here. And I’m telling you that woman is fucking dangerous.”
Talpin struck the desk as he glared up at me. “Enough, Dr. Bridges. Enough. You’re off Addison Hawthorne’s treatment team, and that’s final. If I hear another word from you, or if I hear you’re contacting that girl again, you will quickly realize what it’s like when I’m not on your side. Do I make myself…”
“…clear? Any questions?”
I was trembling, not from fear or worry, but excitement. The time was almost here. I would finally be able to do my part and show her how worthy I was.
“No, I’ve got it, Addison. I throw the package over the fence at four in the morning. And then I come back at ten that night and park down the road at the gas station.”
“Not at the gas station, they could have cameras. You park at the ride-share lot down from the station.”
Oh no, I’m so fucking stupid. Now she’ll think I can’t help. The poor thing has been locked up in that stupid place for two months, and now that she’s ready to leave, I can’t even get the simplest thing right.
“Terri, it’s all right. You’ve got this. I trust you. Just breathe.”
I felt tears spring into my eyes. She was so good to me. Still believed in me. And I wouldn’t let her down. Not now, not ever.
“Th-thank you. I…I’ll go to the park and share. I’ll have clothes, money, and two burner phones. Is my car going to be big enough? Are we taking anybody else with us?”
“No, the others will have to find their own way. The risk is too great otherwise.” There was a pause and then, “I have to go. I’m using someone else’s phone account, and they apparently don’t have many minutes. See you tomorrow night.”
I held the phone to my ear for several seconds after it clicked and fell silent. Everything was prepared and now I just had to wait, which of course was the hardest part. Sighing discontentedly, I shifted the phone to my other hand, planning on sitting it down on one of my moving boxes. Instead, it slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor.
Stupid, Terri, stupid. I still wasn’t used to the thumb being gone. I had already broken a plate and two glasses that way while packing. The last thing I needed to do was mess up my phone, especially with everything going on. Bending down to pick it up, I let out a relieved breath when I saw it was okay.
I laughed shakily as I sat the phone down with my good hand. I just needed to calm down. Everything would be fine. This was Addison’s plan, after all. It would work just so long as I did my part.
I looked over at the cardboard box sitting apart from all my belongings. Addison said there was more things to go in it, but the first one was already sitting on top. The small metal box drew me to it whenever I thought about it, and with a twinge of guilt, I walked over and touched it again. I had the familiar impulse to trigger the button on the side and lift it to my eyes, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Addison said it wasn’t for me, at least not yet.
I checked the time. Eight hours until I needed to throw the package over the fence. Twenty-six until I needed to be ready and waiting for Addison. I wanted to go right now and be waiting, just so I’d be ready, but I knew that was stupid. I might draw attention that way. Instead I would just keep packing and then go get some sleep.
I looked down at the mottled stub where my thumb used to be. I needed to remember to take my antibiotics too. Hopefully this round would finish off the infection, because I did not want to have another surgery.
But no, I needed to stop being so negative. It would all be okay. And besides, nothing great ever came without sacrifice.
Even all the people that are going to die? Is that okay?
It had been some time since I’d heard that small, meek voice in the back of my head. Some vestige of who I had been before meeting Addison, before coming to understand things. It was a weak, scared voice that wanted me to doubt myself. To fail Addison. I spoke aloud when I responded to the thought, my voice echoing strangely in my increasingly empty apartment.
“Yes, even that. The Path is a razor that bleeds you. Until you finish it or it finishes you.”
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Credits
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