Groaning, I roll my eyes. "Exercising will counteract all the eating I'm doing. I want to get fat enough for Locke to lose interest."
"These aren't physical exercises," she says patiently. "I'd like you to list five goals for yourself once the situation with Locke is dealt with. Be as detailed as possible."
Relieved she doesn't expect me to work out; I take the sheet of paper she has typed out all tidy for me.
"Can you tell me one right now?"
I struggle to think of anything I imagine for my future. The things I once assumed like traveling, finding a husband, and having children now feel out of reach. Leaving the house is too scary. Men are scarier. Children make too much noise.
"I want to visit my grandparents' graves near their old cabin," I say, pulling an idea out of my ass. "They raised Shelley and me after our parents died. I think staying at the cabin and remembering my time with them would be nice."
Doctor Parker scribbles on her notebook again. I hate these sessions. My every breath scrutinized, I feel trapped again. With Locke, I never enjoyed a true moment alone. My feelings forever molded by a sociopath, I'm now stuck lying to avoid being locked away for my own good.
The session finally ends after I very slowly explain everything I've eaten today and everything I plan to eat after leaving her office. She doesn't want to hear what I'm saying, but she's stuck. Telling me to shut up isn't in her job description.
After I send Minka a text to warn her I'm leaving the room; she's waiting at the ready in the waiting room. Next to such a confident woman, I feel like a clumsy loser as she leads me to the car outside.
"Did the session go okay?" she asks once we're driving to the apartment.
"I guess. We just talk."
"I saw a therapist years ago. She told me I needed extensive therapy and mountains of medication. I told her to eat shit and die. For that, I paid a hundred dollars."
Smiling slightly, I stare out the window and look for suspicious vehicles. I have no damn idea what makes one car more suspicious than another considering we're driving in a crowded city. Still I pretend I'm useful.
"Your clothes were moved to the apartment during the doctor visit," Minka says.
"Will you stay with me?"
"You'll need around the clock security, so different members of the team will take turns. Don't worry. They're all talented badasses. Not as good as me but close."
Even smiling, I'm nervous. Minka seems nice and patient. I'm afraid the next person will be mean. What if they yell at me? I'm sick of crying, but someone raising their voice at me makes tears unavoidable. If Minka's replacement is a man and he yells at me, I might hide in a damn closet for the rest of the week.
I imagine all sorts of ugly possibilities waiting for me when I arrive at the apartment. Minka pats me on the shoulder and says it'll be fine. Shaking wildly in complete terror, I only nod while waiting to meet her replacement.
I'm completely unprepared for who I find.
5
~~~
Darla
Safety in Silence
How is a living Ken doll standing in the kitchen of my new apartment? Have I taken too many of the tranquilizers today? Minka stands next to him, and she doesn't look like part of a hallucination.
"Darla, this is Troy."
I don't think I'm even breathing. He's too tall and blond. Too California Dreaming beautiful or maybe corn-fed Americana. No doubt I would have slobbered if I met this perfect male specimen before Locke. Even now as his dark blue eyes focus on me, my world spins.
I back away from Troy, stumbling over a suitcase Shelley packed for me. I'm suddenly very aware of how far away my sister is now. I'm alone with strangers again. The exotic Minka and the unbearably handsome Troy, neither of whom know me as anything except the girl enslaved for nine months.
"It's okay," Minka says to me.
"What?" Troy grunts.
"It's in the file about her not being able to make eye contact or speak to men because of Locke. Do your homework, Troy."
Rather than backing off, Troy walks over to me, lifts my chin, and shakes my hand.
"Locke isn't here, is he?" he mutters. "I'm Troy Sheridan. I'll be on shift this evening."
I slide my trembling hand from his warm one. The urge to wipe off his touch is strong. Instead, I shove my hand into the pocket of my sweat pants.
"Do people call you Sherry?" I ask, lowering my gaze again. "Like a code name?"
"No. They call me Frosty."
"I like Sherry better," I whisper, hurrying out of the room.
I hear Troy and Minka speaking in hushed voices. I don't know this apartment but find the door to the master bedroom. The grandiose decor isn't my taste, but I'm thank-ful Vernon found me a place to stay. Instead of hiding in the bedroom, I walk down the hallway and stop before reaching the open kitchen and living room area. I peer around the corner at Troy.