Page 21 of Deranged
He leaned in again, his eyes lighting up in a way which made me want to grab him and kiss him. “An emotional trauma can leave a wound on the brain just like the body. It doesn’t bleed or hurt in the same way, but it’s there, visible on a scan just like a broken bone. It stays and your brain tissue has to grow and change around this scar. It can alter who you are as a person, and who you become as you learn and grow.”
I wanted to hate him. Damn it, I wanted to tell him he was wrong, go back to my cell, and hide out with my books. Spend the next six months under the covers.
Outside of my depression, I’d maintained my status of being healthy for so long. Trying to get someone to see it, to believe it.
I didn’t want him to be right.
I didn’t want my mother to be right.
Chapter Eight
Ash
She stared at me, mouth turned down.
“What’s that look for?” I asked.
She didn’t flinch away from my gaze when she answered. “I’m having trouble keeping this professional in my mind.”
Images of her naked skin threatened to push in between me and my common sense. I gripped the arms of the chair, leaving the paper and pen on my lap. “What do you mean by that?”
She leaned in now as if she wanted to convey a secret. “It means no matter how professional we are supposed to be keeping this, I want you. And when you go doing something stupid like actually caring about me, it doesn’t help.”
I licked my lips and looked away, anywhere but into her eyes right now. I could almost see the way we could be tangled in sheets playing out in her head. “Well, we will both continue to try our best, won’t we.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Yes, I guess we don’t have a choice.”
I scooted around and looked down at the page. “I think we’d should talk to your mother again.”
She blinked heavily, and her mouth popped open. “The once wasn’t enough for you? It usually is for me.”
“So, I take that as a no you don’t want to call your mother to discuss your options. I think talking about what happened to you will help the situation. It might help you get the closure you need to have someone who knows what happened acknowledge it.”
She stared at me with a heavy gaze.
Okay so no to the mother talk. “Well, I don’t think I’m really the best person to treat your PTSD, and I think I should call a consultant to come in and discuss things with you. Will you let me do that?”
“Why can’t you treat it?”
I considered how to phrase my focus. “I mainly focus on grief counseling. I prefer to help those who recently suffered a loss. It’s my specialty. I could have helped you more at the time. I took this job when a friend asked me to fill in for six months. I had no idea the job would be…”
“Me?”
“Anyway, let me put in the request to bring in an outside doctor. I promise it will be worth it.”
She cast her gaze around the office and refused to meet my eyes now. “It’s not a good idea. My mother won’t like it.”
“The hospital administrators are the ones who need to do the approval, not your mother.”
She snorted and gave me a look. “Is that the line you’re selling today? You spoke to my mother. She controls a lot more than you wish she did. Hell, than I wish she did.”
A faraway look entered her eyes, and she stared over my shoulder and whispered. “I wish I had control over my own life. She’ll never give that to me.”
I wanted to reach out, comfort her, and soothe away that look in her eyes. It would cross the line, so I stayed still, focusing on not touching her. “Let me speak to her. You don’t have to talk to her again if you don’t want to.”
She sighed, almost in relief, and I felt like an asshole for underestimating how much of a rift existed between them. I wouldn’t push her on that front any longer, but I’d remind her it’s likely her mother cared for her and didn’t know how to show it.
“I’ll look into doctors in the area I would trust, and then we will see. It’s going to be okay. You’ll get your life back.”
