He closed the door, and then she and I were alone. Dr. Kells rose from behind her desk and sat in the chair next to me. She smiled. She didn’t have a pen or paper or anything with her. She just . . . watched.
The air felt heavy and my thoughts became slow as seconds stretched into minutes. Or maybe they didn’t; time was elastic in the giant empty room. My eyes darted around, searching for a clock, but there didn’t seem to be one.
“So,” Dr. Kells finally said. “I think we should begin by talking about why you’re here.”
Showtime. I reached into my memory to recall the symptoms of PTSD to make sure whatever I divulged mimicked that diagnosis and not schizophrenia. Or worse.
“I’m here,” I said carefully, “because I survived a trauma. My best friend died.” Meaningful pause. “It’s been really hard for me, and I keep thinking about it. I’ve had hallucinations. And flashbacks.” I stopped. Would that be enough?
“That’s why your family moved to Florida,” Dr. Kells said.
Yes. “Right.”
“But that’s not why you’re here in this program.”
I swallowed. “I guess I’m still not over it.” I tried to sound innocent, but I just sounded nervous.
She nodded. “No one expects you to be. But what I’m asking is whether or not you understand why you’re here. Now.”
Ah. She wanted to hear about Jude—that I believed he was alive. I had to answer her, but it was a dangerous tightrope to walk. If I spoke too carefully, she’d realize that I was manipulating her. But if I spoke too candidly, she could decide that I was crazier than I actually was.
So I said, “My father was shot. I—I thought he might die. And I freaked out. I went to the police station and just started screaming. I wasn’t—I didn’t feel like myself. It’s been a lot to deal with.” My stomach churned. I hoped she’d move on.
She didn’t. “At the police station, you mentioned your boyfriend. Jude.”
I hated hearing his name. “Ex,” I said.
“What?”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she repeated, giving me that same look I’d seen on Dr. West’s face a few days ago. “You mentioned your ex-boyfriend, Jude. You said that he’s here.”
The words FOR CLAIRE appeared in red on the white wall behind Dr. Kells’s head. I felt a jolt of terror before I blinked them away.
“The information in your file says that your boyfriend, Jude—ex-boyfriend, I’m sorry—and your friends Rachel and Claire died in the collapse of the Tamerlane State Lunatic Asylum in Rhode Island.”
“Yes.” My voice was a whisper.
“But you said that Jude’s here,” she repeated.
I said nothing.
“Have you seen him since that night, Mara?”
I was stone. I modulated my voice. “That would be impossible.”
Dr. Kells rested her elbow on her desk and her chin in her hand. She looked at me with sympathy. “Do you want to know what I think?”
Dazzle me. “I can’t imagine.”
“I think that you feel guilty about your best friend’s death. About your boyfriend’s death.”
“Ex!” I screamed. Shit.
Dr. Kells didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm. “Did something happen with you and Jude, Mara?”
I was breathing hard but I hadn’t realized it. I closed my eyes. Control yourself.
“Please tell me the truth,” she said softly.
“What does it matter?” A tear rolled down my cheek. Damn it.
“It’s going to be so much harder to help you otherwise. And I really do want to help you.”
I was silent.
“You know,” Dr. Kells said, leaning back in her seat. “Some teens have been in this program for years; they started here and then moved to our residential center, and they’ve been there ever since. But I don’t think you need that. I think this is just a way station for you. To help you get back to where you’re supposed to be. You’ve been derailed by everything that’s happened in the past six months—and that’s understandable. You survived a catastrophic accident.”
Not an accident.
“Your best friend died.”
I killed her.
“You moved.”
To try and forget what I did.
“Your teacher died.”
Because I wanted her to.
“Your father was shot.”
Because I forced someone’s hand.
“That’s more trauma than most people are faced with in a lifetime, and you’ve experienced it within six months. And I think it will help you to talk about it with me. I know you’ve seen other therapists before—”
Ones I liked better.
“But you’re here now, and I think that even though you don’t want to be here, you might find that it isn’t a waste of your time.”
The tears were flowing steadily now. “What do you want me to say?”
“What happened with Jude?”
My throat felt raw, and my nose itched from crying. “He—kissed me. When I didn’t want him to.”
“When?”
“That night. The night he—”
Died, I almost said. But he didn’t die. He was still alive.
“Did he do anything else?”
“He tried to.” And so I told Dr. Kells about that night, and what Jude tried to do.
“Did he rape you?” she asked.
I shook my head fiercely. “No.”