Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
He tilts his head at me, a gentle smile on his face. “You’re skeptical. But this is actually quite central. Your whole life, you’ve been given various roles to fill, which you’ve done exquisitely.”
I glow a little under his praise, just like I do anytime Domhnall calls me a good girl.
Then he continues on, “But you’ve also never been given the opportunity to find out who you yourself would choose to be all on your own. What do you want? What sorts of things do you like? What are your hobbies? Opinions?”
He leans forwards in his chair, fingers crossed under his chin. “What food do you like?”
“Oh just whatever anyone else is eating is fine. I’m not picky.”
One eyebrow hefts. “But what do you, yourself, like? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? If you had a day that was completely empty with no responsibilities, just to yourself, what would you do?”
His questions are pedantic. So easy they’re stupid. I open my mouth to respond. And go completely blank.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know. Something.”
He waves a hand. “Then by all means. Tell me.”
“I’d sleep.” I look around. Out the window. “Or do something useful. Wash the dishes. Get some laundry done.”
“I said a day when there are no responsibilities.”
“What if I like doing laundry?” I spit back.
He holds his hands up, but then just sits there in silence.
And then more silence. Waiting for me to answer him about what I like. Which is so fucking ridiculous. Who the fuck even cares?
“I’d go on a walk,” I finally say. Jesus, get off my back already.
“Do you like taking walks?”
“How the fuck should I know? You think my life’s been about going on nice pretty little walks under the fruit trees?”
I’m trying to rile him up or get him to stop looking so fucking calm. I’m being a brat, and by this point, Domhnall’s nostrils would be flaring. But Dr. Ezra just sits there looking perfectly pleasant.
“I’m going to let you in on another little secret. It makes total sense to me why you don’t know what things you like or how you would choose to spend a free day.”
He leans forward and does the hands-folded-beneath-his-chin-thing again. “Your clever mind found a way to protect itself all these years so you could survive under extraordinarily brutal circumstances. You say you don’t know yourself, but the core of who you are still fought this whole time to hold on to you.”
He thinks he’s so clever with his soft voice, but he’s—
“No it didn’t!” The rage hot in my chest erupts. “I don’t even know who the fuck I am!” I’m furious at him. At myself.
But he just shakes his head, not put off by my fury at all. “You’re still there. You’ve always been there. It’s like a fully decorated room with the lights off. Little by little, as myself or other therapists work with you, you’ll learn to turn the lights up bit by bit, as if on a slider. You’ll eventually start to see what was in there all along. The furniture and the posters on the wall. The colors and design of the bedspread you choose.
“You’ll figure out what you like and don’t like—not because someone else told you, but because it’s just you in there. Nothing is lost that can’t be found. So let’s start over. What do you want your name to be?”
“Anna,” escapes my lips before I can really overthink it.
Dr. Ezra nods. “Anna. That’s a beautiful name. Does it come from somewhere?”
Why is he asking so many questions? Stupid questions, stupid questions, attacking my already battered brain.
“Enough!” I run and shove the door to the room open. The second I’m across the threshold, the haziness descends again, and I welcome the dark place as I climb back into the box in the deepest recesses of my brain.
HER
“It’s her mother’s middle name,” I say, sitting up straight as a pin, crossing my legs, and staring Dr. Ezra down with one eyebrow lifted. “Anna.”
This nave thinks he can fix my girl?
Fool. I protect the girl. Just like I have since she was a child and her mother abandoned her to the monster.
Dr. Ezra tilts his head. “Her?”
I roll my eyes. This is so pedantic. “The girl. It’s the girl’s mother’s middle name. Anna.”
“And who am I speaking to now?”
Oh he’s clever, is he?
I give him an icy smile, hands tucked demurely in my lap. “My pronouns are she/her.”
“And your name?”
“Names are overrated.” I give a tight wave of my hand before tucking it back in my lap. “You don’t need a name when there’s no one to talk to except a monster. And I was a secret we kept, so he never knew I was here.”
“Monster?”
I give him a deadpan stare. “If you don’t know about the monster yet, you’ve really got shit qualifications, don’t you? Did they call in another half-doctor?” I yawn and roll my head to stretch my neck. We really need to be getting the girl more exercise. She’s so tight.