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“Has Sarah Crawley been in touch with you?”
I’m a terrible liar because my expression gives it away. “Yeah.”
Regina makes a weird ticking sound with her mouth. “Thank you for not lying to me. I need you to trust me. What did she say to you?”
I lower my eyes as blood rushes to my face. “She wanted to check in.”
Regina remains remarkably composed, especially given their sordid past. “Don’t let her pull you into wild theories. There is no Constellation Killer. She’ll ruin everything we’ve been working on.”
I arch my brows. “She’s the one that saved me.”
Regina shakes her head. “No, Layla, that’s not true. You’re the one who saved yourself. Under no circumstances are you to speak to that woman again. Do you understand me? Your sanity is on the line. I won’t have that woman undo the months of progress you’ve made with me. I’ll be phoning the commissioner this evening and getting a restraining order. I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. But this explains why you’ve regressed.”
I crinkle my forehead. “She’s not why I regressed.”
For whatever reason, the mere mention of Sarah has Regina folding at the seams. They both saved me in different ways. They also are on completely different sides of the spectrum on what they believe really happened in that bunker.
Regina glances at the clock. “Okay. Let’s begin our session.”
My mouth tastes like poison. “I’m not sure I can handle that right now.”
She shakes her head. “Layla, you have to relive every part of what happened down there. You’re not going to get better until you remember what you blocked out.”
My head grows heavy, like suddenly my neck isn’t strong enough to hold it up. “What if I don’t want to remember?”
She grabs my hand and squeezes. “Listen to me. The only person ever truly hurt in that bunker was you. You’re the victim in all of this. Repeat that back to me.”
“I’m the victim,” I breathe.
“Say it again.”
“I am the victim.”
Then why do I feel like the villain?
Chapter 6
Captivity
Cold isn’t a sensation. It isn’t a chilling wind or chattering teeth. It isn’t the goose bumps that pebble my flesh. It’s an emptiness that I can’t explain. It’s a hole dug so deeply into my heart. It’s the ice twisting in my gut, slithering through my veins. The way it chills the fabric of my soul.
My soul sheds its layers with each passing second. My mind is a void, consumed by guilt that gnaws at me like a maggot. I’m frozen in this eternal shiver. It could just be a few minutes, but time means nothing to me right now. I fall in and out of sleep…and when I dream, it blends with reality.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
An echo radiates in my ear. Each drop is like a drum beating around me. My body is frozen in place. Deathly silence is better than this dripping sound that’s taking over my entire mind. My eyes are open, but in this darkness, there’s nothing for them to adjust to. I’m looking at my hand, waving it back and forth, but it’s as if it’s not even there.
My fingers curl into my thigh, digging into my skin. I can’t feel the pain, so I dig harder until I draw blood. Even then it’s not enough…I move to another place on my body and dig in until I can’t feel anything. My thighs, my hips. I’m so angry, this is the only thing I can think of to control it. I must be dead, and this is hell.
The seconds tick by, and I listen to the dripping faucet in the bathroom.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
My heart pounds uncontrollably. Beyond the leaking faucet, nothing reminds me I am alive. The only piece of sanity left is the pain in my shoulder and the blood dripping down my flesh.
He is punishing me, attempting to break me. I refuse to acknowledge what is slowly becoming evident—I don’t get to survive this.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment the dripping sound stops, but eventually it does. I reach for a bottle of water and bring it to my lips, allowing enough to wet my parched mouth, and the drip sound starts up again.
