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“They don't want me in their lives unless I commit myself to an institution,” Caera mumbled, spinning the bottle in her fingers. “They think it's all in my head, that I'm crazy. I'm an inconvenience to them the way I am, and unless I'm doped up and drooling on antipsychotics, they don't want anything to do with me.”
Did the girl have no one in her life as a support system? “Yeah, pretty sure you're not crazy, sweetheart. What about friends? You have friends, right?” Connie saw everything she needed to see on the lean face, in the way those big green eyes seemed to deflate even further. Another note went on the pad to find Caera a support system. “Okay, so you're not on your own, not anymore. From now on, when you need a friend, you call me.”
In the back of her mind, she could just envision Atticus lazily swinging a tawse, lecturing her on loading yet another item onto her already stacked plate. He wouldn't be pleased with her, she thought, then frowned at herself. Since when did she care what her colleagueof sorts thought about what she did in her professional capacity? This had nothing to do with him, and he wasn't her fucking boss.
“I…really?”
“Really. I'll give you my card before you leave. If you need me, you call me. At any time.” She studied the bruised eyes and gaunt face carefully, remembering what Atticus had asked her just a couple of nights before. What happens when a person becomes swamped by the rigors of life and the shit just keeps on coming? What happens when they reach a point where they can't see anything but the clusterfuck?“Caera, I'd like you to be honest with me. Have you had any suicidal urges? Any thoughts of self-harm?”
Caera's gaze dropped to the bottle. “No.”
“I'm not going to use the information against you—that's not what I'm here for. I need to know so I can take measures to ensure your safety. I don't want to lose you before we've even begun to sort this mess out.” The thought was devastating. This was such a young life swinging in the balance; Caera hadn't even started to live yet. “Honestly, have you considered suicide?”
“I don't want to go to the hospital.” The quiet voice vibrated with nerves. “The other doctors said they would have to send me for psychiatric evaluation at the hospital if…if…” She trailed off and huddled protectively into the chair.
“I don't want that for you, either,” Connie assured her gently. She wanted to reach out and stroke her, give her some semblance of physical reassurance, but they weren't at that stage yet. “Give me a straight answer, no little white lies, and we can move forward from here.”
A muscle in Caera's jaw twitched. Closing her eyes, she nodded once.
Has admitted to suicidal inclinations, Connie wrote as she mulled over her options. “All right, that's a concern. Sleep deprivation can cause a variety of problems, including depression and hallucinations. Suicidal urges in extreme cases, which I believe is what we’re dealing with here. How many hours sleep do you get a night, Caera?”
A slender shoulder lifted beneath the layers of clothing. “I don't. I don't sleep. The monsters come in the dark. Sometimes, when I'm really tired and the caffeine isn't enough, I fall asleep without meaning to, and I get a couple hours before the world goes to hell.”
“Eating habits?”
“Don't have much of an appetite. Live on coffee and energy drinks.” Another shrug.
The girl was so depressed, she couldn't even take care of her basic needs. There were some rather large red flags starting to rise, and Connie had little time to turn things around before Caera ended up in a position where medical intervention was her only option. Connie set the notepad in her lap and sighed. “I'll be blunt with you, sweetheart. Your life needs a rapid overhaul. Malnutrition, dehydration, sleep deprivation. They’re three issues out of a long list of complaints we need to deal with. We need to get you eating and drinking properly, otherwise you'll end up collapsing and being rushed to the ER. You'd likely be put on intravenous fluids, and I imagine they'd insert a nasogastric tube to feed you.”
Caera's face went dead white in an instant.
“I'd like to weigh you,” Connie told her firmly, adding a touch of Domme. “Today, before you leave. I know it's not regular practice, but unless you're willing to visit your normal doctor…” When Caera shook her head, Connie sighed. “I want you to keep a journal. Everything you eat, everything you drink, and how many hours you sleep. You'll come see me three times a week, more if you need me. I'll make room in my schedule. I'm going to talk to one of my associates who deals with sleep-related disorders and see what advice he can give me.”
“I-I…”
“Just take a breath, Caera. We can do this, between us. Calories, fluids, and rest. Did any of your other therapists try sleeping tablets? I don't recall seeing anything in your file apart from the various benzodiazepine-based meds.”
“They lock me in the terrors. The last time I tried sleeping pills, my neighbors called the police because I was screaming more than usual. They're used to my episodes, but they thought I was being murdered.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “The police smashed my door in, and it took an officer ten minutes to get me to respond. That was scary,” she admitted quietly. “Waking up with a half-dozen cops in my apartment. It's not the biggest, so there wasn't much room for everyone.”
Connie crossed sleeping tablets off her list of to-trysuggestions. Her pen tapped quickly against her knee. “How about holistic remedies? Scent diffusers? I know a few psychologists who have done studies on using St. John's Wart to help manage night terrors.”
“I haven't tried that.”
Underlining it on her list, Connie smiled. “Good, we've got some positive things to aim for. When you do get a few hours, do you find you get a more restful sleep if your boyfriend or partner is beside you?”
Caera's face went from pale to a few shades below neon. Flustered, she squirmed in her seat, more animated than Connie had seen her in the last couple of hours. It was easy enough to read the signals and piece them together with the information she already had.
Twenty-one. Shunned by her family. Physically unkempt, and mentally unstable. Anyone of Caera's age group would label her with the weirdtag. No friends. No ties to the world. Nothing to live for.
Well, fuck.
“Virgin?” Connie asked in a light tone, careful not to sound judgmental.
Caera huffed derogatorily. Her hand lifted, swept down her body from crown to feet in one long gesture. “Would you want to sleep with this?”
“No, but then, I'm not gay. I know a few guys who would love to make your acquaintance,” she mused, thinking of Loki and Liam. Maybe even Saul. He seemed like a decent guy—if someone was into kink. “You're a beautiful young woman, Caera. Circumstances haven't been kind to you, but that doesn't mean what's beneath isn't strong. You should go home and pamper yourself, sweetheart. Take a long, hot bath and get something to eat.”
“What's the point? The days roll into one, and I forget things. I forget if I've paid the bills, I forget if I've taken a shower. My cupboards are empty because I can't remember if I went to the grocery store or when. It would be easier just to fall asleep and never wake up, but knowing my luck, I'd spend forever stuck in a night terror for my sins.”
