“Impaired?” she echoed. “No. I was focused.”
“And the PTSD?”
“What about it?”
“You have described recurrent memories of the fire in childhood.”
Matilda’s stare turned cold. “You’ve read that too.”
“Yes.”
“You know my mother made me help.”
“I know what’s recorded.”
“And you know she tried to kill all of us.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have children, Doctor?”
He did not answer that. “This interview is about you.”
She smiled slowly. “So that’s a yes.”
When he gave her nothing, she leaned back, not disappointed so much as entertained.
“Do you know what it does to a child,” she asked softly, “to learn that love and destruction can be the same hand?”
He let a small pause pass before answering. “I know childhood trauma can profoundly affect attachment, emotional regulation, and perception of threat.”
“Oh, perception of threat.” She gave a low laugh. “That’s lovely. So neat. So bloodless.”
“Did you perceive Fern and Coral as a threat?”
Matilda’s eyes glinted. “Fern was a theft. The girl was… proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That he strayed. He should have known better.”
There was a flat, terrible clarity in her words.
Dr. Scott made another note.
“When you entered the house in Sale, were you hearing voices?”
“No.”
“Were you seeing things others could not see?”
“You mean like an invisible friend? Nope.”
“Did you believe Connor or his family were part of a plot against you?”
“No.”
“Did you believe you were acting under divine command, or that you had any special mission?”