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Determination flows through my veins as I exit my room and speed walk down the stairs. When I get to the foyer, my dad is already there, greeting Dr. Stone as she steps inside the house.
“I’m coming,” I blurt out just as I take the last few steps of the staircase.
My father’s head snaps up to where I’m standing. His expression is grim, but his eyes soften when he sees my desperate gaze.
“Scarlet—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“If you would let me finish,” my father says, slightly annoyed. “I was going to say you can come as long as I’m there too.”
“I’m okay with that,” I agree, stunned by my father’s sudden change of heart.
Switching my attention to Dr. Stone, I greet her. “Hello, Doctor, I’m glad to see you back.” I really am ecstatic. There is still so much I don’t know, and I don’t understand. I need to know how I can help Ren, and Dr. Stone is the only person who can teach me.
“I’m glad to be back and happy to hear that the patient is present now.” There is a genuine excitement in her voice that lets me know she’s one of those people who loves her job.
“Please, follow me downstairs,” my father offers, waving his hands toward the staircase.
Both Dr. Stone and I tag along behind my dad as he leads us down the stairs into the long, dark hallway leading to the few holding cells in our basement. With each step, I can feel the tension rising. Dr. Stone straightens her spine, her steps become more hesitant, and her breathing picks up. Her discomfort reaches a new high when we pass the first empty cell. She clutches the front of her shirt nervously.
Dr. Stone clears her throat. “I wasn’t aware that the patient is dangerous.”
“He isn’t,” I say before my father can answer.
“Debatable,” Dad says under his breath.
We finally get to the cell Ren is being held in. My heart stops when I see him sitting on the cot pushed against the far right wall. He looks up and his eyes find mine in an instant. I suck in a breath, and my heart continues beating in an irregular rhythm. His gaze is tired, his body slumped over. He looks so… defeated.
Stepping closer to the cell, I wrap my fingers around the cold metal bars, keeping me away from the man I love. “Ren,” I whisper into the cool, dusty air.
Ren gets up from his cot and takes a step toward me.
“That’s close enough,” my father warns, and I have to suppress an eye roll. What does he think is going to happen? Ren is going to come through the steel bars and kiss me?
“Hello, Ren, my name is Dr. Stone, and I’m here to evaluate you today.”
Ren tears his eyes away from me to look at the doctor. “Hello.” His voice is flat, devoid of all emotion. He sounds so hopeless, and it’s hurting me more than anyone can imagine.
Dr. Stone turns to my father. “Is this really necessary? I would like to sit down with my patient and make them comfortable before talking.”
“I’m afraid this is non-negotiable. However, I can provide some chairs.” He calls for one of the guards to bring three chairs while Ren grabs the back of the cot and pulls it closer to the cell door.
Once the guard brings the chairs, we all sit down, including Ren.
When we are all settled, Dr. Stone gets out her notepad and pen, placing them on her lap. “Scarlet already told me a lot about you, but I would like to hear your side.”
“There is not much to tell. I didn’t realize there was something wrong with me until yesterday.”
“I don’t want you to think about it that way. There is nothing wrong. You are simply different. You experienced some traumain your early life and that triggered a response. This is not your fault.” Dr. Stone continues to explain to Ren the basics of the disorder the same way she explained it to us a few days ago.
I listen to it again, memorizing every little word she says while watching Ren closely. He is still tense, just like the good doctor, but at least he is answering all of Dr. Stone’s questions so far.
“So, how exactly does the treatment work?” Ren asks when Dr. Stone is done explaining everything.
“Cognitive behavioral therapy is going to be the most helpful in treating DID. There is no medicine for the disorder itself, only for some of the symptoms. In your case, I recommend we start some antipsychotic medicine along with daily sessions of therapy.” Dr. Stone turns her head to look at my father. “Those sessions I will have to be in private with my patient. It’s imperative given the situation.”
My father agrees reluctantly before asking, “So what will the outcome be? If the treatment works?”
