He’s never said it. Not in as many words. And I understood why, even though I hated it.
It feels like simultaneously being punched in the stomach and tossed a life jacket in the middle of a raging ocean. Straightening, I force myself to focus. Force my hands to stop shaking. “How?”
“First, by establishing visitation.” Irritation flickers in his usually mild-mannered face. “I’ll admit that the levels of bureaucracy in this building are an obstacle in themselves. We filed the paperwork months ago, but they keep pushing it back.”
“Is that normal?”
He spreads his hands. “Nothing about this situation is normal. But it shouldn’t be taking this long. If anything, the Center should have a vested interest in seeing Kennedy succeed. It would be a medical first, but the board keeps dragging their heels on a decision. I’ll push them again. We need that to make any progress at all.”
“We can’t help her from the other side of a wall, Doc. We’ve said that from the start.”
“So you have.” He studies me. “And you were right. You need to show her that you’re permanent, Oscar. That she can trust you, and your pack. That you not only won’t hurt her, but that you’ll put her first. You’ve done an excellent job, so far. Visitation, removing those barriers, that will help.”
My gaze drops. “We haven’t, actually. She wouldn’t be in here if we had.”
Abrams studies me. He knows it all. Every shameful part of how badly we failed her, all of the information given to him in desperation to help the girl we condemned through our anger. “My wife is the therapist in our family, not me. But I’d say the guilt you’re carrying needn’t be quite as heavy as it was. You’re doing everything you can.”
It’s not enough.
It’ll never be enough.
Offering a half-smile, I push my chair back. “I’ll tell the others.”
He’s picking up his phone. “I’ll call Joanne, try to push for a face-to-face meeting to get this through.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
Day 211 – Theo
“Rememberwhatweagreed.Slowly.”
My palms feel slick with sweat. Oscar turns, scanning us. His eyes land on me with a silent question, and I nod.
One hundred and eighty-nine days.
That’s how long it’s been since we’ve been in the same space as Kenny. Since we’ve breathed the same fucking air as her.
And now it’s here… I’m not sure I’m ready.
Max bounces lightly on his feet. “Get us in there, Doc. Please.”
Jake, silent and steady at my side, bobs his head in agreement.
“Does she have to be sedated?” I ask again. Not that it matters. I know the answer will be the same.
“It was the only way the board would agree. And for this time – the first time, at least, I would agree. Let’s see how it goes.” Joanne still doesn’t look sure, even as she steps up to the door. “Fifteen minutes. The sedation won’t hold much longer than that.”
And then it opens. Those fucking suits filter out of her room, passing us with glances through their damned astronaut helmets.
They’re barely clear when Oscar moves. He darts through the door to Kenny’s space, the rest of us following.
The scent hits me first. It’s almost stale, courtesy of the air recycling unit that heats and cools the room. Underpinning it is Kenny’s scent, still touched with that wrongness. A little less now. Balanced between sweet and bitter, but I breathe it in anyway.
I turn, taking in the mirror.
This is what she sees. Not us, waiting on the other side. Kenny only sees her own reflection, all of the time.
This would drive me out of my mind.
