“Then why do you think you’re here?”
I made an irritated noise in my throat. I could feel my anger levels rising from my toes to my fingers. I did not like where he was going with this.
“I told you why I’m here.”
“You think you’re haunted, possibly possessed.”
It sounded so insane coming out of his mouth but I had to stick to my guns. I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t back down.
“Yes. That is what I think is happening. And the last time this happened, people said I tried to burn down a house.
Now, if you don’t want a repeat of that, I suggest you believe me.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Is that a threat?”
I narrowed mine back. “No. I’m just tel ing you how it is.
This has nothing to do with Dex.”
“Perry,” he said. He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead slowly, like I pained him just by speaking. “You were in love with a man, he broke your heart. You end up pregnant by him without even knowing it, then you lose the baby in a traumatic miscarriage. I hear what you are saying but you are missing something very obvious and plain here.”
“Such as?”
He sighed, getting visibly frustrated with me. Good.
“You have gone through a terrible, heartbreaking event and you haven’t been able to deal with it. It’s al manifested into this delusion of yours, that you’re possessed, that you’re being haunted. There’s no one else in your head, Perry. It’s just you. You’re haunted by the very feelings you haven’t addressed yet. You’re grieving and hiding it and when you try to hide grief, it can come out in the most peculiar ways.”
For a split second I believed him. I thought it was total y possible that it real y was al in my head and that my subconscious was making it al up as a way to face what was real y going on.
But that’s what he wanted me to think. I was smarter than that.
“I didn’t even want a baby,” I told him, trying to think of something to refute it with. “It would have ruined me.”
“That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t mourn the loss. That would have been the last tie you ever had to him.”
For some reason, that phrase dug into me: the last tie.
I’d gone from thinking we’d always be connected in some way, that we were the same person separated a long time ago, to having no ties at al . I was here, going through hel , and he had absolutely no idea. He real y was cut and gone.
But he had nothing to do with anything and I was suddenly furious that the doctor tried to turn my broken heart into some emo cry for help. Who was I, Taylor Swift?
“I think you’re ful of shit,” I snarled.
He nodded as if he agreed, and I wanted to punch him.
He sensed me tensing up and quickly scribbled down on his pad and said, “I’m going to recommend you come in once a week from now on.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I can’t make you. You’re an adult. But I’d hope you’d do it for your family. They love and care about you.”
I snorted at that and got up.
“Meanwhile,” he said quickly as he ripped off a prescription pad, “start taking these two pil s.”
Remembering what Creepy Clown Lady said, I took the paper from him and eyed the chickenscratch suspiciously.
“I can’t read this. What are they? Do you think I’m schizo now?”
“No,” he said plainly. “And schizophrenia is a real deal, not to be taken lightly. One is to help you relax. You need rest and relaxation more than anything. The other is to help you deal with your grief.”
“And if I have no grief?”
He gave me a terse smile.
“Perry, we al just want to help you.”
That’s what they always said. Everyone always wants to help but no one ever wants to believe me.
I’d been down that highway so many times, they might as wel cal it the Perry Expressway.