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“It is slightly more complicated but just as effective. It is called EMDR therapy, which stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. There are eight steps that I’d walk you through where we will evaluate your past trauma and use eye movement to help keep your body in the present and also provide control for the situation in your mind.”
I dismissed that idea the second I heard ‘eight steps’. We don’t have time for eight steps. As much as I am sure that therapy is effective, and it would be nice to not have to deal with the memories so vividly, I need to choose what’s better for all of us.
If I have to remember, then I at least want to be with the people who make me feel safe during the process.
“Let’s do the float back thing.”
She nods, and I bet she expected that would be my answer. She knows our lifestyle and the complications we deal with. Therefore, she must know we’re always facing a time crunch.
“Let me use the restroom, and you can call whoever you want in here.”
Chapter 19
What has gotten into you? Bloody hell, Kandace! This isn’t like you.
I wring my hands as I pace the bathroom floor, refusing to look at myself in the mirror. I need to remember who I am, or at least who I’m supposed to be pretending to be.
When Alexi first set me up with the man who would give me a new identity, he told me I needed to do whatever was asked of me. If I wanted to stay protected while I laid out my plan, I had to stay hidden from everyone.
Then, I talk to Arrow for three fucking minutes and let my accent slip. I’m supposed to be a boring old fart who no one paysany attention to. The only person I have slightly opened up to is Evie, and that’s because Alexi encouraged it. I never would have done it on my own.
I don’t know what it is about Arrow, but his eyes make me want to help him, enough that I would show him a part of myself I never planned to share with anyone until my plan was complete.
Twenty-four years ago
I walk into the pristine mansion to see the two boys sitting at the piano. One is playing while the other follows his movements. It’s adorable to watch their little fingers slide along the keys, and the older boy looks to be really enjoying the instrument.
I’ve been working with them for a while now, but something has recently changed. I’m not sure what it is, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the older boy is less talkative and the younger might as well be mute. It’s a huge contrast from how they were when I first arrived here. They were rowdy boys with big personalities that I believed would do big things, but now it’s as if they’re just shells of their former selves.
I came in early today while they were still practicing school work, to observe them, and see if I could make note of anything new. Standing slightly hidden from view, I watch them play. Their aunt, who is a proficient piano player, sits on the side watching them diligently. She didn’t hear me come in, so she’s yet to notice or acknowledge my presence.
When the younger boy gets distracted and looks down at his feet, a wooden metre rule thwacks him perfectly on the back right between the shoulder blades. It’s clear this isn’t the first time this punishment has been enacted from the way she easily whips him with the ruler, precisely in the perfect place.
I haven’t seen such archaic practice in so long. I’m stunned. The boy sits up straight with tears in his eyes. My fists clench.
“Pay attention,” their aunt chastises in a harsh, demanding tone. The talking distracts the older boy for a split second, and he messes up a key. The same ruler comes down again, across his knuckles this time, making him wince, the excruciating pain clear on his face.
Now I have the answers I needed.
I had been concerned there was some form of abuse going on, but their father isn’t home much, and their mother doesn’t seem to be involved with the children unless she needs them in attendance for an event. She’s a high-ranking member of Parliament and holds an established position within the Conservative party. What most people don’t realise is that she also runs some kind of illegal business on the side.
I don’t know what it is, and I don’t particularly care to ask. I’m here for the boys at the end of the day. With my worries confirmed, I clear my throat, looking directly at their aunt.
“I think it’s time for you to go now, don’t you?”
The shock on her face has my lips curving upwards into a smile that I choose not to hide. The boys look up at me as though I’m their saviour. It’s sad that no one has noticed this, but I refuse to let it continue any longer.
“You’re early,” she sneers, acid lacing her tone. As she packs her bag, she slides the ruler she used to hit the boys in the outside pocket.
“I’ll take that.” I hold my hand out for the ruler as she eyes me up and down like I’m a piece of shit on her shoe. “I think I was right on time.”
Finally, I stop pacing and look in the mirror. Pointing a finger at my reflection, I scold myself.
“Your plan is not gonna go to pot after all of this just because you slipped up once. He dropped it. This isn’t gonna go pear-shaped. So pull yourself together for fuck sake and give your head a wobble.”
Taking a deep breath, I straighten my spine and resume the perfect posture Dr. K has become known for. Then, I slap on my business face and slide back into my Dr. K persona. This is going to be rough on Arrow, and being composed and professional is the least I owe him as he travels this bumpy road towards healing.
Chapter 20
