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PROLOGUE

Myla pulled on her Newport with so much force that with one inhale of the cancer stick, it was nearly annihilated. If someone told her she’d be smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, she would’ve called them a liar.

The former Myla Pleasant viewed her body as a temple. Therefore, she refused to consume anything that would be detrimental to her mind, body, and overall health. That Myla was long gone. This Myla was willing to try anything to calm her frazzled nerves.

Myla no longer recognized herself. Dark circles now surrounded her once-vibrant eyes. Her former lush lips were chapped, and her caramel skin was visibly dehydrated. In layman’s terms, Myla’s appearance reflected all that she’d been through. It looked as if she’d taken a beating by the heavy hands of the late great Sugar Ray Robinson.

Though it appeared that she had been in the fight of her life, no hands had ever touched her body. Physically, she was not bruised. No, her tormentor had been too clever for that. The scars that Myla wore were mental, emotional, and psychological.

“Myla, let’s try something different today. You’ve been coming to these sessions for two months now, and you never say a word. The only way to recover, heal, and unburden yourself from whatever is plaguing your soul is to unleash it. You must talk about it. When you hold that dark energy in, it has power over you,” Eunice said as she observed the fragile woman in front of her.

Eunice never broke protocol with her patients. She remained professional with everyone who sat in her chair, but truth be told, her heart was breaking for Myla. Myla was more than a patient; she was a colleague.

Even though there was a twenty-year age difference between them, she considered Myla a friend. One of the best psychologists she had ever worked with. She had allowed Myla to intern in her practice because her spirit was strong and calm. Even when working with severely psychotic patients, Myla remained stoic.

Seeing her former protégé under so much stress was foreign to Eunice. Truthfully speaking, Eunice was uncomfortable because she couldn’t understand what had the power to unnerve someone so brilliant.

“Try something different, huh?” Myla said dryly as she reached for another cigarette.

She hated what her life had been reduced to. She was once confident and self-assured. Now she wasn’t. Six months. One hundred and eighty fucking days is all it took to disrupt her entire life. Over a decade of college, clinicals, stellar career performance, and a supportive family; all gone after six short months. So much had changed.

There was no longer anyone in her corner. Embarrassment, insecurities and now self-hate filled her with shame. This was never supposed to be her life.

Her hands shook violently. A person who didn’t know her would assume that she was either experiencing withdrawals or maybe her body temperature had dropped. Both assumptions were far from the truth. Though she had contemplated it, Myla had never taken a drug, and her body temperature was a perfect 98.6.

Eunice’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. For two months, all Myla did during her sessions was cry. She hadn’t uttered a word. Anytime she opened her mouth to speak, uncontrollable sobs escaped her chapped lips.

“Wow! She speaks,” Eunice said soothingly as she squeezed Myla’s trembling hand. “You know if I were blindfolded, I would’ve assumed I was holding an adult novelty device,” Eunice joked. She hoped the colorful joke would at least bring forth a chuckle from Myla.

It did not. Myla didn’t crack a smile. She didn’t have the energy to do so. She had been too beaten down to even pretend. Instead, she fired up another cigarette. Normally, Eunice would not tolerate smoking in her office, but for Myla, she made an exception.

“Myla, you were one of the most brilliant doctors I have ever worked with. So how did my brilliant and amazing protégé become my patient?” Eunice asked.

The question made Myla sit up. For the first time in a long time, she remembered who she was. It was strange that someone else had to say it for her to remember.

“I am Dr. Myla Eileen Pleasant. Daughter of Linda Eileen Pleasant and the Late Dr. M. Jasper Pleasant. I graduated in the top 3% of my class. I am a mental health, behavioral disorders, and substance abuse counselor.”

Reciting her résumé brought more tears to Myla’s eyes. Her mind had been so expertly and severely attacked that she had truly forgotten who she was. Somehow, remembering who she had been gave her strength. As she stared into the eyes of her former mentor, she began to answer her question.

“How did I become your patient? I became your patient after meeting the devil. The spirit of Leviathan was too strong in him. My life was not perfect, but prior to the last six months, it wasn’t what it is now. Now I’m completely alone. I lost everything, and it’s all my fault because I didn’t listen. I fell for charisma and charm. I was so foolish because I chose a man over common sense.” Myla chuckled humorlessly as a stream of tears flowed from her overworked tear ducts.

“Choosing the wrong partner is not uncommon. It happens to the best of us,” Eunice admitted. A pang of guilt hit her because, truthfully, the admission of choosing the wrong partner applied to the feelings she was currently having with her man.

Myla scoffed. “I really thought that I knew better. Turns out, I knew nothing at all. The wrong person in your life will make you lose everything,” Myla stated as she inhaled the nicotine of her cigarette.

“Well, let’s discuss those losses. You’re in the right place to unburden yourself and heal. Healing begins with opening up. Can we start from the beginning?” Eunice asked.

Myla sighed. She knew Eunice was right. It was time to unburden herself. Though it would be exhausting to discuss, she knew it was necessary to heal.

“You’re right. I have to unburden myself if I want to recover from this nightmare. I honestly can’t believe that I’m even doing this. I’m a psychologist.”

Eunice put her hand up as if she were gesturing to Myla to stop speaking.

“Let’s not highlight the obvious. We both know your profession. You saying that is the same as a man blurting out, “I’m a man!” in the middle of a disagreement. As if his gender makes him exempt from being corrected.”

Hearing the three words sent Myla’s nervous system into a complete frenzy. She had heard the I’m a man speech so often that it made her sick.

Eunice saw Myla’s reaction and made a note of it.