He wrinkles his nose. “I have a theory.”
I sit with a heavy sigh. Taking one of the forks, I cut off a big bite of chocolate cake and shove it into my mouth. “Let me hear it.”
Oakley laughs, grabs the other fork, and takes a bite for himself. He takes his time, waiting till he swallows before talking.
“What’s kind of great about you is that the DSM has no clue how to properly diagnose you.”
“Fuck the DSM,” I growl, shoveling another bite of cake into my mouth.
He crosses his arms, his eyes roaming from the top of my head all the way down to my biker boots, stopping at each tattoo along the way.
“Well?” I fucking hate the warble in my voice.
Oakley grabs the bottle of chocolate milk and shakes it. “While this isn’t what I tested you on today, I’d say we’re looking at an unspecified trauma-related condition with strong antisocial traits.”He breaks the seal and takes a swig. “There are hints of what some may call callous-unemotional traits, but…nah. I don’t buy it.”
I open my mouth, but Oakley holds up a finger.
“Not done yet.” He scans me again, tip to toe, giving me his best scholarly look.
I stifle a shiver. “Oak…”
“Based on what I saw in Mav’s initiation, and in those old body-cam videos, I’d say you’re a genetically modified rage organism. You suffer bloodlust the way others suffer hunger, yet somehow, you’ve learned to aim it at the right people.”
“I—”
He talks over my attempt to respond. “I take that back.Somehowis dismissive of the incredible effort it must’ve taken to get you to this point. And God only knows how hard you’ve really worked. Youchooseto aim all that rage and bile in the right direction. That’s the miracle.”
His words make sense individually, but all together…I’m lost.
He’s not done though.
“Also? You’re not a psychopath.”
I jerk back, surprised. “I’mnot?”
Oakley raises his brows. Like maybe he isn’t surprised in the slightest. Huh.
I gesture to myself. “I mean, IknowI’m not, but I figured your test would…say otherwise.”
He doesn’t look too happy with that assessment. He sits a little taller. “This is a very good test.”
“Okay…”
“But I’d like you to take another if you’ll indulge me.”
Tension tightens my jaw. “Another psycho test?”
“No, but I don’t want to explain it too much in case it sways your answers. This test isn’t trying to determine whether you’refucked in the head or whatever else you might be thinking. This is just a hunch.”
Oak reaches out, giving my hand a quick squeeze and my heart a few hundred palpitations.
“Um…sure?”
He opens his desk drawer and pulls out the new test. Then holds up his finger and grabs another copy.
“So…you don’t like giving these tests digitally?”
Oakley shakes his head. “I don’t yet trust this organization. Hedy thinks the paper-and-pen route is quaint, and for now, I’ll let her believe I’m just weirdly old-fashioned. The reality is that anything we do digitally is available to a larger number of people than I’m comfortable with.”
