Page 107 of Lost to Thievery
I closed my eyes, letting his warm smile and words seep into my heart, making it start back up again. The embers in me glowed a little brighter. “I love you too, O.”
Doctor Aspen
AnotherlatenightIhadn’t planned on.
I sighed as I finally shuffled through my front door, switching on the porchlight, grateful to plunge my heavy bag onto the old foyer bench—a family relic, passed on through the generations, but still sturdy enough to hold the mountain of work I brought home every weekend. My car keys dropped into my bag, in-between the files I had lugged home.
I stared at those files. Another evening of admin, cheap red wine and a microwave dinner, in bed. Alone.
How glorious.Exactly how I envisioned my life at sixty-two. But alone was better than a deadbeat man draining the life out of me. Besides, I was married to my work. My patients had always come first. And I had no time for a man shaming me for it.
I sighed. Not even a pet to greet me at the door. I should get one. A cat wouldn’t mind being home alone for long periods of time. Maybe I could get two cats to keep each other company while I was away.
I shook my head. That was a slippery slope to crazy cat lady.
“She’sfuckinghim as we speak.”
The deep, unstable voice ripped through my body, stunning me in place. My heart shocked to a standstill. I scanned the dark living room in front of me, searching for the source of that dark voice.
Then I saw him. A man sitting in my armchair, shrouded in shadows, only his legs and hands visible. Shadows elongated his fingers as he dug them into the armrests, making them look like claws.
I stumbled backwards, pressing myself against the foyer wall, pressing my hand against the pain in my chest.
If I believed in such things, I might have mistaken the obscured man for a demon. But I knew better. And I knew men could do far worse things than demons.
I tried to take a steadying breath. I was all alone with this man, on my acreage of land, completely isolated from civilisation. No one would hear me scream and no one would come look for me for at least three nights. The hospital might send someone to check when I didn’t show up for my shift on Monday.
Who would plan my funeral? The seats in the church would be almost empty. Or would the hospital allow some of my patients to come?
Carl would go off the deep end. I had worked years to gain his trust. He would not accept any other psychiatrist. My death would shatter all those years of work, plunging him right back into the paranoia. They would have to lock him up again, under constant sedation.
I forced the air back into my lungs. Only seconds have passed, and the man had not moved, except for his knee, bouncing up and down. I tried to peer into the darkness, to get a better view of his face. If only I could see his face, read it, then I would know how much trouble I was in.
“Who are you?” I somehow managed to speak without stuttering, but my voice still trembled like a newborn fawn.
Get it together, Rosa.
The shadowy figure stirred. Ever so slightly, he leaned forward until a slither of moonlight danced across his face. His sharp features were set in a hard line, his eyes studying me, catching the moment realisation dawned on me, before retreating into the shadows once more.
“Grayson Varon,” I breathed, as the shock claimed my brain, rendering it useless. What was he doing here? Inmyhouse? Do I know something I shouldn’t?
I knew Ava was in constant danger from this man, how did I not think about myself? I was Ava’s therapist. She told me things no one else knew. Of course, this man would come for me too.
Oh, Rosa. You fool.
A restless, desperate energy was radiating off him, not unlike that of an addict on the cusp of crashing out—unpredictable and frighteningly dangerous, especially from a sociopathic man like him.
But I knew how to work with addicts. “What are you doing here, Mister Varon?” I asked as calmly as I could.
I needed to keep him distracted and engaged so I could get to my phone or my car keys.
Car keys. I needed to get to my car. It was the only way out.
I took a tentative step towards him, and my bag.
His leg started bouncing faster. He ripped a hand though his hair. “I don’t know. I… I need information.”
It was unexpected to hear him so uncertain. This was not the man Ava had described. Grayson was unshakable, unbreakable. But this man was clearly spiralling, deeply distressed, barely holding it together.
