If I had learned anything about my father’s associates these last few days, it was that they liked sex. A lot. Especially when there was something untoward about it. All I needed to do was be the “perfect” patient, flick the iPod to record, and wait for him to come to me. It had worked with James after all...
Tom thought nothing of me toying with the music device and true to my father’s word, Dr Tate arrived quickly, it just felt like an eternity when under house arrest. When he knockedat the door to announce his presence, Tom sent me a brief look of warning, like I’d attempt to run past him or some other such nonsense, and I scooted to the window to look out at the courtyard below.
I didn’t acknowledge Dr Tate as he entered the room, I let the two of them exchange words that I couldn’t decipher from my distance and kept my eyes fixed on the world outside.
Eventually the door closed and Dr Tate spoke. “Hello, Abi.”
His voice sent the hairs prickling at the back of my neck. I had once found great solace in that deep resonating voice, now it just instilled the bitter taste of betrayal within me.
“Dr Tate,” I said, not bothering to turn around.
“I’m sorry to hear of your episode,” he said tentatively. “Your father—”
“Stepfather,” I corrected at the window, unable to let that go, not anymore.
“Okay,” he acquiesced, “your stepfather ... he’s very concerned about you and insisted I come as soon as possible.”
I didn’t acknowledge his words, instead I hugged my arms around my body and continued to gaze unseeingly out of the window.
“Come, Abi, please lie down,” he coaxed, his hand patting at the bed. “We can talk things through, I have brought you some medication to help calm your troubles. Whatever they are, I’m sure we can make it better together.”
I laughed inwardly at that. Had Dad not told him the truth behind my “episode”? Could he really be in the dark? Or was it simply pretense on his part? After all, the doctor had done a perfect job of concealing his involvement with my stepfather’s scheming up until now.
Either way, it didn’t really matter; I would simply play the ideal patient and be the naïve, confused girl he was accustomed to.
“Please Abi...” he tried again.
This time I turned, the move slow and deliberate as I scanned the room for Tom.
“I’ve sent him away so that we may have some privacy,” Dr Tate said picking up on my intent.
“Thank you,” I said, the gratitude in my voice coming easily as I realized we were to be left alone; that no one stood in the way of putting my plan in motion now.
Moving obediently to the bed, I climbed in, my head dropping back against the familiar comfort of the pillows as I allowed myself to relax a little.
“You’re welcome.” He gave a small chuckle as he looked down at me, his fingers brushing the edge of the bed just millimeters from my own. “The presence of his intimidating stature would hardly make for a very successful therapy session, would it?”
“No,” I admitted, my lips turning up a fraction.
He gave me an encouraging smile and what I once believed to be kindness warmed his eyes. It was a harsh reminder of one of the many reasons I’d been so easily sucked in by him.
The pain of betrayal ripped through me anew and I averted my gaze so he couldn’t see the hurt in my expression. I needn’t have worried as he chose that moment to walk away, his focus on the day chair that I kept in the corner of the room. Testing its weight, he lifted the seat and brought it up alongside the bed.
“I know it’s not quite my office, but I’m sure we can make this arrangement just as comfortable,” he said, shrugging off his tweed jacket and hooking it over the chair back before heading back to the doorway to collect the briefcase I hadn’t even spotted. He brought it to the nightstand and flicked it open, retrieving a bottle of pills and tapping out two.
“You can have one now and the other later,” he said looking to me. “I don’t want to risk you drifting off when you clearly have a lot to talk about.”
There was a gentle tap at the door and I started, my eyes darting from him to the noise and back again.
Please don’t be Tom returning.
Spying my panic, he placed a hand upon my own and I had to concentrate hard to leave it there, his touch making me bristle. “It’s okay, Abigail, it’s just Lily with some water.”
Lily! A sudden urge to call out for help, to be in the safety of her presence and be rescued from this situation, was almost my undoing. But the long game stopped me. I also had to remember just how dangerous my stepfather could be, how these people he surrounded himself with could be, it wasn’t fair to embroil sweet, lovely, Lily in any of it.
I watched him move to the doorway and open it, his body blocking my view of the other side completely. They exchanged words in tones too hushed to overhear, and then he turned, a tray with a jug and two glasses now in his hold as the door closed discretely behind him.
“There, you see, nothing to worry about,” he said reassuringly, his familiar tone, soft and comforting before, now serving to twist the knife in deeper as he headed back to the bedside and placed the tray on the nightstand.
