Page 103 of Fallen to Thievery
“You were lovers, weren’t you?”
“Shut up!” I yelled at her, at first shocked that I’d spoken to her that way. I had never told anyone to shut up before. But I couldn’t care. She had to stop, or I might die.
“What was his name?”
My head shook, willing the name to stay out. I’d gone this long without thinking it. It wasn’t allowed to slip in now.
“Ava, you have to face what happened. He used you.”
I sprang to my feet. “He loves me!” I didn’t recognise my own voice. I had never heard a voice so ragged. So dead. My fingers instinctively foundthe scars on my hip. I’ve traced them so many times these past few days that my skin felt sore and raw. Like my heart.
Doctor Aspen held my gaze, assessing, then nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe that’s precisely what he wanted you to believe. And maybe you wanted to believe it too, so your mind only saw what you wanted it to see. It’s called confirmation bias. The brain can be tricky like that.”
I shook my head. A heaviness settled into my limbs, making them shake with strain to keep me upright. “I want to go home.”
Myhome. My only home. Grayson.
I sagged onto the couch, slowly pulling my knees up to my chest.
“This is not hell, Princess. Hell comes later.”
Now I understood what he meant. It was a warning. Or maybe he was taunting me. But the fact was, I was chin deep in fucking hell. Right where he left me.
Doctor Aspen’s soft voice broke through my hurt. “Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is, Ava?”
I didn’t deign her a response. She was going to tell me anyway.
She took a breath and eyed me, as if scared that I would run if she talked again. She wasn’t wrong. “It’s a thing that sometimes happens to people who are held against their will. It is a psychological defence mechanism of sorts, where the hostage begins to have…positivefeelings towards their captors.”
My laugh startled even me, the sound harsh, bitter and dead. “That’s not it, Doctor. Try again,” I said sarcastically. If she thinks she can waterdown what was between me and Grayson, to some sort ofsyndrome, she was severely mistaken.
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “But would you humour me for a second?”
She mistook my silence as an invitation.
“You feel close to your captors, I understand. But it was…difficultat first, wasn’t it? You were scared of them.”
“Not Ge… not the girl. I was never scared of her.” I sounded like a petulant child, trying to prove her wrong, but only proved her point.
She nodded, a motion that was grinding on my nerves. She rubbed the underside of her chin, contemplating my words like they made perfect sense to her. “The third one, the other man. He wasn’t very involved with you. Your bond with him isn’t that strong, compared to the other two.”
I wasn’t about to tell her about mine and Hunter’s relationship, so I kept quiet. She was wrong anyway. I’d come to love Hunter. Maybe not as much as Grayson and Gemma, but that didn’t make him any less important.
She nodded at my silence as if I’d confirmed what she had stated. That made me bristle.
“But the dark-haired man. He was the frightening one. You were terrified of him, weren’t you? Would you like to talk about it, Ava? The bad days with him?” she questioned softly.
I just glared at her. I was done with this conversation.Shewas the crazy one.
She scooted back in her chair, backing away. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.” She was quiet for a moment, lulling me into a false sense of safety, before continuing her onslaught. “There was, of course, the turning pointwhere your feelings started to shift. To something more positive. I cannot guess at the cause. Maybe it was just time. Maybe he did something nice for you. Maybe it was a positive act that made you look at him differently, an act of heroism or romanticism.”
My eyes shot to her.
She continued. “An intelligent woman like you, Ava, must have struggled with these new feelings. Knowing how strange it was for you to feel such things towards your captor. I’m sure there was a moment you questioned your own sanity.”
My mouth went dry. No. It wasn’t this Stockholm Syndrome. It was just common sense.
My patience had reached its limit.
