His eyes flew to my face, and I cocked my head. I watched as the gravity of what I'd said sank in, making his eyes widen. It appeared I had his full attention now. He held up one hand, palm out, a gesture of caution. "Before you say more, I need to make sure you're clear on the confidentiality agreement. It's no longer applicable if I believe you're a danger to yourself or someone else."
Despite his warning, I could tell he was intrigued. I could see it in the way his eyes flickered over me, in the way he leaned forward slightly in his chair. He wanted to understand, to unravel the mystery of the man who sat before him.
But I wasn't here to satisfy his curiosity. I was here to regain the control that had always been my lifeline. But if he thought I was going to sit here and let him delve into the darkest parts of my soul, he was going to be disappointed.
"I would never hurt her. That's the whole fucking problem." The words came out harsher than I intended.
The psychiatrist's eyebrows shot up, surprise and something else flickering in his eyes. "But youwantto hurt her?"
I shook my head, frustration mounting. He didn't understand. "No. I locked her up to keephimfrom hurting her."
"Okay. Okay." Leaning back in his chair again, he studied me intently. "Does she have a name?"
His efforts to trip me up were entirely too transparent. "Jane," I told him.
"How long have you kept Jane locked up?"
"A few weeks." Or had it only been days? It seemed like I'd known her forever, and yet not nearly long enough.
"And you haven't hurt her?"
"No. I told you, I can't." The words came out through gritted teeth, my jaw clenched tight.
"Are you planning to let her out?"
I paused, considering the question. I'd left her out of the celloncewithout me there and she ran off and almost got herself killed. I didn't want her in my head, but I also couldn't conceive of a world without her in it. And that was when I knew I already had the answer to his question. "No," I told him, shaking my head. "She's safer in there." At least until we found her father. Perhaps longer.
"So, what do you want from me?"
I got to my feet, unable to sit still any longer. Agitation thrummed through my veins, making my skin feel too tight and the material of my expensive clothes too coarse. I ran a hand through my hair as I paced the room, trying to put into words the turmoil that raged inside me.
"I want you to fix me," I demanded. "Undo whatever the fuck she did to make me feel all of this shit, like I need to protect her. To make mefeelat all."
He started to say something, then nearly jumped from his chair. "You're bleeding!"
As I continued to pace, I glanced down to see the bullet wound was bleeding through the makeshift bandage I'd covered it with. But it barely mattered. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Luna to pay much attention to anything else. "Yes," I said distractedly.
"Why are you bleeding?"
"Because she shot me."
He did jump out of his chair then, uncaring when his notepad fell to the floor. "What are you doing here? Why the hell didn't you go to the hospital?"
I cocked my head, confused. I'd just told him. And this was much more important than the bullet hole in my side. Besides, I'd deserved it. "I didn't want to be late for my appointment."
He stared at me in disbelief. "You need to go to the hospital." He walked to his desk and pressed the intercom. "Lydia, call an ambulance for Mr..."
Before he could finish, I drew my pistol from its holster and chambered a round, the sound echoing in the small room. I pointed the barrel directly at his face. "No ambulance."
He froze, holding up his free hand, like that would stop a bullet, and swallowed hard. "Lydia, cancel the ambulance."
"Are you sure?" she asked over the speakerphone. "Are you okay?"
"Everything's fine," he lied, his voice trembling slightly. "Why don't you go ahead and take your lunch now?" Then he disconnected the call.
I kept the gun trained on him, my finger resting lightly on the trigger. I was out of patience. "Can you fix me or not?"
"I'm sorry," he said after a pause. "But other than prescribing you something akin to a tranquilizer, there isn't anything I can do to keep you from caring about someone. It just...happens sometimes. Whether we want it to or not."
