Villainess (12 page)

“Sooo… How about them butterflies?”

Jonah chuckled. “You’re like a dog with a bone with those.”

Funny, wasn’t I just thinking the other day how he was like a bulldog with things?
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to be if you’d just tell me what it means that I see butterflies.” I tapped my chin demonstratively. “Although, I’m starting to think that you don’t really know.”

Jonah quirked an eyebrow, his succulent lips turning up into a smirk. “Nice try.”

I shrugged. “Eh, it was worth a shot.”

He shifted in his chair, the leather creaking. “Did you sleep okay last night, Leila?”

I rolled my eyes. I knew I looked like shit. I’d stayed up all night playing solitaire. “It’s the dark circles, huh? Dead giveaway.”

“What kept you awake?”

“I just couldn’t sleep.” I wasn’t about to tell him that I was facing off with the memory of a dead man—fighting for control of my own thoughts. I’d been afraid to sleep—afraid of what would be waiting for me in my dreams, or most likely nightmares.

“Mmm… Okay. Today I want to talk some more about your parents.”

My face twisted up into what I was sure was a grimace. I was finding it harder to school my reactions when I was beyond exhausted. “We’ve been over this. There isn’t much more to say about them. I didn’t save them.” Guilt washed over me, threatening to drown me.

“Help me. You don’t understand the hell you’re putting me through.”

My chest constricted and my pulse raced, I somehow managed to keep my expression blank. “I’m not putting you through any kind of hell, mom. I love you. I really love you, but I’m not going to do this with him anymore.”

“He’s your daddy, and he loves you. He’s sick is all. You need to understand and be compassionate.”

“I need to understand and be compassionate? Me? He’s pissed off about some imaginary slight. He wants me to apologize for something that is utterly ridiculous, and if I don’t he’s going to make everyone suffer. I’m tired of his emotional abuse. He refuses to get help. Real help anyways.” I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Why don’t you ever stand up to him? Why don’t you ever tell him no? He treats you like a slave. Stop being a victim.”

“I’m not a victim.” My mom flicked her red-rimmed gaze away from me. “I’m just—”

“Yes, you are! And I refuse to be anymore. I’m tired of his insults, his threats, his petty temper tantrums. I just can’t—I can’t anymore. Why can’t he see it? Why can’t he see how badly he treats everyone and yet he claims the same about everyone else?”

“He’s sick,” my mom whispered.

“Why are you letting the insane person run the asylum? Just stand up to him! Stand up to him, damnit!”

“I can’t.”

“Well I can’t deal with it anymore, any of it. I used to think that one day I’d be able to help—be able to fix everything—but I was delusional. I can’t fix anything. Or maybe that’s wrong. I can fix myself. And I need to. I need to fix myself, and that means putting distance between dad and me. If that means you too by default—” I choked back a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“My dad has…issues.” My gaze darted away from Jonah’s searching one. “His step-father used to beat him, his half-siblings and his mom. Then when he was older his mother blew her head off with a shotgun while he was in the house. The problem was… He thought as long as he didn’t hit anyone then everything was fine. He never recognized the emotional abuse. I didn’t either until I grew up and got a good look at other people’s families. I never knew…not really. I just couldn’t let myself be dragged down by him anymore. There’s no other way to put it.”

“But your father never hit you or your mother?”

“He never hit me. He hit my mom twice—that I know of. After the second time he tried to hang himself by his belt right outside my room. I was in eighth grade.” It was weird how I said all the words but I didn’t feel anything. I had at first, but the more I talked about it, the more my emotions just seemed to seep right out of me.

“That’s actually very common. The abused often becomes the abuser even if they don’t realize it.”

I twirled my hair around my fingers. “No shit,” I muttered. Jonah wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. “What’s the point to all of this? What does my fucked up childhood have to do with anything? And please don’t tell me that it’s made me fucked up too. Because it hasn’t. There’s nothing wrong with me, Doc. You need to stop grasping at straws. So what if I had a difficult childhood, so have lots of people. It’s not an excuse.”

Jonah’s gaze bore into mine. It was so intense I had to look away again. “I’m not grasping at straws. It basic human psychology. I—”

“You know what else is basic human psychology? The fact that I suffered and I want to make sure other people don’t. I told you before, I wanted to stop doing nothing. I wanted to make this world a better place. It just took me a while to figure out exactly how I could do that.”

“Guilt motivates a lot of people, Leila. You’ve said so yourself. You feel like you didn’t save your parents. You—”

“Yeah, so what if guilt motivates me? It still doesn’t make me insane. It just makes me…basic, I guess.”

Jonah snorted. “There’s nothing basic about you.”

I lifted my eyes and tilted my head, a small smile curling up my lips. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, Doc.” I shifted uncomfortably. I seemed to always be uncomfortable in Jonah’s presence now. I wasn’t sure who was winning our little game—which made me worry that it was him.

I was losing track of my goals, letting my captivity slowly muddle my focus. I needed to take back the control I’d so carelessly given Jonah.
Starting now.

Jonah

Stay professional. Stay professional. Stay professional.
Those two words were running on repeat in my mind—a constant hum behind everything else I was thinking. Leila was slowly eroding the notion, one action at a time. I was losing my focus, and if I continued to let her play me, probably my sense of self. She was twisting me up in ways I didn’t know possible, or rather, I’d only ever seen other people in such knots. I was the one who was supposed to be above it all.
I’m the professional…so…stay professional. Stay professional…

“Leila, I want you to tell me more about Theo. Whatever you would like. I just want to know more about your relationship.” I’d begun to form a hypothesis about a few things that were going on with her—things that I almost was afraid to think because of the nature of them. I had to get more information before I could act accordingly. There were procedures—ways to fix what had possibly been broken. It wasn’t my specialty though, and yet I was willing to make a go at it with Leila because I didn’t want anyone else treating her. I didn’t want to lose her just yet. Of course even that wasn’t the least bit professional.
I’m fucking up on pretty much every level possible.

She laughed without humor. “Back to your new favorite subject—Theo. Theo, Theo, Theo. Basically the one thing I tried all night not to think about. Oh, the irony. Of course I should have expected it but I am a bit off my game since I haven’t slept.” She tilted her head, her green gaze studying me. “Which by the way, why haven’t you fired Matt yet? I thought it was a foregone conclusion, all things considered, and yet he’s still here.”

I glanced down at my notes. The truth was—I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t fired Matt yet. God knew I wanted to, but I was desperately trying to keep distance between Leila and me. If Matt was gone… Yeah, I was afraid I’d be first in line to take his place in Leila’s bed. So maybe that was it. I was keeping Matt on so he could be the buffer between us. “It’s not a good time to cause any more upheavals around here. Some of my regular patients have been a bit traumatized about having to change doctors. The patients are familiar with Matt.”

“Mmm Hmmm… I think you’re just afraid to let him go because you know you’d be the one visiting my room every night.” She lounged back against the couch, a smug expression on her face. “Isn’t that right, Doc? I know you want me, no need to pretend otherwise.”

“I want to help you, Leila,” I growled. “Let’s not start in on the rest again.”

“We never stopped. Just give it up already.” She glanced at the clock and forced a yawn. “You know, I’m sooo…tired. I think we’re going to have to end this session early. I mean, I was sick yesterday, and then I didn’t sleep.”

What is she up to now?
“All right, Leila. But you’re going to have to talk about these things eventually.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

That was true. Very true. And it was something that I was very afraid of. Maybe she’d never cooperate. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to help her and her young life would be snuffed out by the end of the year. My heart twisted in my chest at the mere thought.
I can’t let her die.
“Please, Leila—let me help you.“

“Oooh, I like it when you beg.” She winked.

I sighed, heading to the door. Leila stood abruptly and hurried to my side. She leaned in and whispered, “Figure out a way to keep Matt busy tonight, and then tell him you need to have a night session because of missing today.” Her lips brushed the shell of my ear and I shivered. “Make sure the cameras are off.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she was led out of the room by Matt and Mike, her eyes dancing with mischief. There was no doubt what she was suggesting, and it was out of the question.

Now if only I could convince my dick of that.

What am I doing? I’m not seriously considering this? Am I?
My eyes darted over the small TV that showed the feed from the different security cameras. I knew the code for my office because Ella had told me when we’d first started…having relations. I’d been concerned about accidental viewings from other staff of our times together. She’d patronized me by showing me how to block out and erase my office’s footage. The rest of cameras were another story. If I turned everything off then there’d be too much suspicion. I really only had one option.

I punched in the code for my office with shaky fingers. When the feed popped up in one of the boxes I turned off the camera.
Fuck. I am doing this, aren’t I?
Maybe Freud was right, in matters of sexuality we are at present, every one of us, ill or well, nothing but hypocrites.
And to think, I used to mock Freud’s school of thought.
I was definitely being a hypocrite when it came to Leila, and I could ultimately ruin my career because of it. And yet…
I can’t seem to stop myself.

I scanned the footage from the remaining cameras, trying to locate Matt. After a few moments I spotted his large frame heading down the corridor towards Leila’s room.
I need to get a move on immediately
. I sprinted from Ella’s office, never slowing until I was just around the corner from where Matt would be. I then paused to gather myself.

I pulled myself up to my full height and donned an air of confidence. I had to make Matt believe I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I strode purposely around the corner. “Matt!” I called. He turned to face me with surprise, which I pretended not to notice. “Good. I’ve been looking for you. Noami Wilkes has been having some issues with adapting here. I’m going to need you to make sure she takes her meds and to stay with her until she’s out. I know it’s not exactly normal procedure but—”

“Can’t you do it?”

I narrowed my eyes. “No. I’m actually here to have a session with Leila.” I cleared my throat and stared him down. “We’re under a bit of a time crunch with her case. The courts aren’t going to wait forever for her diagnosis and with incidents like today with cutting things short…” I let my voice trail off so he’d fill in the blanks.

Concern played across his features. “You think you can help her?” He shifted his gaze away. “I mean, not that I care, but you know… I’d hate to see someone who was…sick be put to death when it wasn’t their fault. I mean, it’s why I work here. I care about—”