Page 2 of Her Wicked Plan

I even took my curiosity to the internet, where I stumbled upon various articles on her. News stations and even social media blogs have written articles about this woman.

Most were utterly wrong and exaggerated the trial that was held. The words on these sites contradict everything written in her file by the medical staff. After those findings, I avoided the online articles and kept with what Black Lake had given me.

This is all new territory to me. I’ve had my bachelor’s degree for four years, but I’ve only been a psychiatrist in an office building in downtown Seattle since I graduated college.

The patients I care for at this office aren’t nearly as bad as Veronica. They don’t even come close to any patients housed at Black Lake Asylum.

I do my job well. So well that my boss took it upon himself to send in my credentials to the asylum. He wasn’t trying to get rid of me, but he knew I was destined for bigger things.

Crazier people, I guess. He knew I could handle whatever was thrown my way. At first, I was upset that he had sent out my resume without conversing with me because I love my job. I am comfortable with my patients and the people I work with.

My patients.

This news is going to be super hard to drop on them. They trust me with everything they have, and I won’t be their safe place anymore. I’d hate for them to fall back on the progress we’ve worked so hard to reach.

I still have a month to figure out how to tell them I’ll be leaving. Veronica’s current doctor will depart from the facility at the beginning of January.

I was worried when I first learned that I got the job offer—out of my mind; I was worried to the point where I was losing sleep over it. Veronica and I will only meet for two days a week.

That’s a long ass commute for only two days, as I live in the city, and Black Lake is way past city limits. However, the facility was kind in offering me a room in the doctor's and nurse’s wing.

Everything seemed to work out for me.

Running my hands through my dark mess of hair, I huff out an exhausted breath as I stack the documents together. I’ve been at this for hours.

I desperately need a break, which is good because the front door closes as soon as the thought of stepping away forms in my mind. It doesn’t take long for Myles's footsteps to grow louder through the narrow hall as he approaches the kitchen.

“Hey, man!” He greets me cheerfully, clapping me on the shoulder. “Whatcha reading?”

“Just looking over the file for my new patient.”

“Again? Dude, you have been reading that shit for the past week.” Myles fills a tall glass to the brim with water.

We have been friends for years. We both attended the same college—me earning a medical degree and him earning a business degree. The two of us used to be the same person in college.

We both wanted to go out and party, meet girls, and hook up with them for the night. It was all fun until it started interfering with my schoolwork.

Once I found out I had been failing my courses, I completely locked it down and focused on getting better grades and finishing school. After that, I never changed back to the way I used to be.

Myles, however, is the same man who loves to get drunk and meet random women.

“Yeah, I know.” I sink back into my seat, hands rubbing down my face. I stop the movement when they brush against the stubble on my chin. I’ve been so stressed with everything that I haven’t cared to shave. “I guess I’m just nervous. Since my boss was the one who set me up with the job, I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Understandable.” He nods, his dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes. “I mean, you will be working for an insane asylum, for God's sake! It’s different from what you are used to. I’d be shitting my pants if I were you.”

“Wow, thanks for the boost of confidence.” I state sarcastically. “If I’m being honest, I’m freaking the fuck out, but I think it’s because I don’t know what to expect.” I reach across the table, grabbing a glass of water that has remained untouched for the past hour. I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth felt until Myles came home. “Like you said, this is different from where I work now.”

“You freaking out because of the place in general or because of this patient?” He pushes himself away from the counter to stand by the table. Setting his glass back down after only a sip.

“Both, I guess,” I answer as we stare at the manilla folder in front of us.

“What’s she in for?” Myles always wants to know the dirty details of what is happening with my patients. His fingers twitch, and he wants to reach out and open the folder to read for himself.

I pat the thick file, sliding it closer to me. “Patient confidentiality. You know this man.”

“Yeah, I know.” He groans. “I always think one of these times you might fill me in.”

“Let's just say it’s pretty bad.”