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She purses her lips in thought, as if she’s trying to decide if I’m being truthful.
“Really, Mom. I like him.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I am. I’m hoping Dr. Hartigan approves my release today. I want to start back to school on Monday.” I’ve already missed over a week of classes.
“Honey, don’t you think you should wait a while before you go back? Give yourself some more time?”
“But the more classes I miss, the more I’ll have to make up.”
“I know. But you can do your schoolwork from home, right? I’m sure your professors will work with you.” She brushes her thumb gently across my cheek. “There are still so many bruises, honey. People are going to hound you more than ever with questions about everything from Sean to the abduction. I’m sure the university will agree to give you more time to recover.”
She’s right. I’m not ready to face any of that.
At ten that morning, Dr. Hartigan stops by my room. There’s a lot riding on this assessment. I’m desperately hoping she’ll approve my release.
She greets my parents and says hello to Jason. “You must be Layla’s new bodyguard.”
Jason nods. “Pleased to meet you.” As he’s following my parents out the door, he pauses to look back at me. “I’ll be right out here if you need me. Just holler.”
Dr. Hartigan takes the seat beside my bed. I like her. She’s always been nice to me, nonjudgmental, but I still hate having to answer so many questions.How am I doing? What is the voice saying? Is she telling me to hurt myself or someone else?
That’s what I hate the most—the idea that I would hurt someone. I would never do that.
Of course you would. You’re crazy.
“So, what do you think of your new bodyguard?” Dr. Hartigan asks.
“He seems nice.”
“Your parents seem to like him. Are you ready to let a new bodyguard into your life?”
I nod. “Sure.” After all, that’s what this meeting is about. They—she and my parents—want to know if I’m ready to trust someone new.
I can’t be just a normal girl, living a normal life. So many things conspire against me—my diabetes, the monster in my head, and the fact that my bank account has more money in it than most people can comprehend. Even I can’t wrap my mind around it.
Ian and I each inherited an enormous fortune from our paternal grandfather, who got rich by starting a telecommunications company in the early twentieth century. All that money makes me the target of unscrupulous people and brings me so much unwanted notoriety.
I’m famous for no good reason. I’m hounded by photographers looking to make a buck by getting candid photos of me. People sneak selfies with me and post the shots on social media.
People act like they want to be my friend, when usually they just want what they think I can give them.
Dr. Hartigan opens her notebook and makes a notation. “How are you doing?”
“I think I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.”
“How’s the voice?”
“It’s about the same.” It’s not, but if I tell her the truth, she’s likely to keep me here longer, and I just want to go home.
“Have you been taking your medication?”
“Yes.”
“Is the voice saying anything different?”
“No, not really.”Yes, sometimes.
