“Enough.”
“That’s not a measurable quantity.”
She smiled faintly. “Enough that I didn’t care as much as I should have.”
“Did the substances impair your judgment?”
“No. You can say I have built up my tolerance.”
“Not at all?”
“No.” Her voice sharpened. “Don’t try to make this about that. I knew what I was doing.”
“I’m not trying to make it about anything,” he said calmly. “I’m establishing contributing factors.”
“You won’t get what you want,” she said lightly. “I wasn’t out of control. I wasn’t hallucinating. I wasn’t confused.”
“No,” he said. “You’ve been very clear about that.”
He turned another page.
“Let’s talk about your family.”
Matilda’s posture changed almost imperceptibly. She sat stiffer in the uncomfortable chair.
“Do we have to?”
“It’s relevant.”
She exhaled through her nose. “Fine.”
“You have a twin brother, Sawyer Havers.”
The reaction was immediate. Her jaw might as well have been carved from rock. Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her sleeve.
“Yes.”
“What is your relationship with him like?”
“Distant.”
Dr. Scott watched her carefully. “Records indicate he has been involved in your care at various points. Supporting you during admissions, managing crises.”
Matilda’s laugh this time was brittle. “Supporting. That’s one word for it.”
“What word would you use?”
Her eyes flashed. “Controlling.”
“In what way?”
“He thinks he knows what’s best,” she said, voice tightening. “Always has. Always stepping in. Always fixing things.” She leaned forward slightly. “Do you know what it’s like to have someone constantly cleaning up after you, Doctor? Makes a person look very… broken.”
“Do you feel he sees you that way?”
“I don’t care how he sees me. In the end, he betrayed me. He didn’t have my back.”
Dr. Scott didn’t challenge it directly. “When was the last time you saw him?”
