I’m not strapped to my bed, but I might as well be. I’m unable to leave my room, my bed. My clothes get tugged from my body without permission. I’m naked in front of men and women who wash me down with a rough cloth and slather me in sickly sweet soap. They toilet me and spoon feed me and keep the same cartoon channel on the TV.
When the skies outside my window dim and shadows come out to play, I’m fifteen all over again, being held down and raped by Blake. Being fucked to an inch of my life by Blake. Being tortured and beaten by Blake. Until I’m waking up screaming, drenched, lashing out at those trying to calm me.
And the only one I call for is the one who doesn’t come. Milton.
The morning after my latest episode, they get me out of bed to have my session with Dr. Rogue. I go by wheelchair, and if that isn’t bad enough, in an ironic twist, they wheel me right past those double doors before leading me to her office.
Dr. Rogue is standing by the window, gazing out at Fair Haven with a smile on her lips. She looks distracted. Happy.
Turning to face me, her smile wavers, like I’m the terrible smell under her nose. “Hello, Heidi. How are you?” I don’t reply as the tech locks the wheels of my chair and leaves. Making her way over to her desk, she picks up my folder to write more notes down about me. Probably something along the lines of being uncooperative. Unresponsive.
She takes her seat in front of me and crosses her leg. When she finally points her gaze in my direction, eyes scanning me, I stare back at her, heart thumping with anger. Hate. Then she breathes a laugh. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I croak, voice raspy from not using it.
“Like I’m the worst person in the world.” She wets her lips with her tongue. “Despite what you believe, I want you to get better. Such a beautiful girl shouldn’t be in a place like this.” She’s patronizing me. Bitch.
“I’m not lying,” I whisper. “He’s real.”
Her head shakes, and she jots down more shit. “Why is it you want to see this person so badly?”
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I did tell you.”
“Try me.”
I hold up my wrists. “Ask me how this happened.”
“I know how that happened. You did it to yourself. We have an incident report of a nurse walking in on you scraping your wrists on the corner of a table. You’d been doing it for hours.”
“That’s not—”
“I know I can’t possibly relate to the things you have been through in your life, and I know it’s been so difficult for you. But this lying has to stop.”
“But I—”
“No interruptions, please. I am unfortunately running out of options. You’re getting increasingly worse. You’re aggressive toward staff, self-harming, and you talk about dying. We might have no choice but to move you to a different facility with even tighter restrictions.”
“You’re twisting everything I’m saying!” Emotion clogs the back of my throat.
“You’re not helping yourself.” She gets out of the chair and makes her way over to me. Tears burn the rims of my eyes as she places a manicured hand on my shoulder, crouching in front of me until we’re eye-level. “I want you to get better. I want to see you leave this place, as does your mother.” She squeezes my shoulder, and all I want to do is grasp her neck until it breaks. “But this is not the way to go. Everyone is worried.”
“I’m not making Milton up,” I growl. “He’s real. I can take you to him if you just let me.”
“Don’t get upset. It’s okay to want attention—”
“I’m not doing this for attention,” I argue, exasperated at her attempt of turning this on me.
“I know your relationship with your mother is strained and has been for a while. Elise is getting married to a wonderful man and has a great life. Something even I am envious of. Your mother has been occupied with the wedding and hasn’t been able to give you much attention. It’s okay to want her attention, Heidi. At least you have a mother who cares about you.”
My body shakes with violent rage that seems to have exploded from nowhere. How far up Gabriella’s ass she must be to think everything I have done is because I want attention from her?
She’s the one who’s fucking insane. The one who should be sitting in this wheelchair. “You have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” I say through gritted teeth. “I fucking hate her.”
Her eyes lower with disdain. “You shouldn’t speak of hate like that.”
I glare at her, wanting so much to scratch her eyes out. “Yes, I hate her. She’s a lying bitch who left me with a rapist when I was a child while she was off exploring the world. You can’t help me, Ashley, so please, shut the fuck up!”
Her hand suddenly whips through the air and crashes against my face. Smack! The pain is sharp, the noise loud, but the silence that follows is quiet.
My cheek smarts—a bruise already rising. The mask she had in place is gone as she straightens her back and strokes the side of my face where she hit me. I cringe from her touch.
“I will prescribe some painkillers for that,” she says calmly, smoothing down her blouse. “Our session is over for today.”
Chapter Seventeen
Two Years Ago
A week has passed since being in Dawlin, and we’re back at the club. Blake went to the hospital after our return, the injuries Grady inflicted far worse than he thought. Three broken ribs and a fractured wrist. He was given medication and told to rest, which for once, he did. He hasn’t touched me since, and I’m glad because my own body gets a chance to heal
