Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
ANNA
The door closes behind me with a soft click that feels somehow final, like the sound of a cage locking. I stand just inside Dr. Ezra's office, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I worry he might hear it across the room.
Domhnall's lingering cologne hangs in the air, mixing with the room's usual smells. I can almost trace his path across the plush carpet, following the ghost of his presence to the indentation still visible in the leather chair where he sat moments ago.
"Anna," Dr. Ezra says warmly, standing behind his desk. Light from the rain-washed window casts half his face in shadow. "It's been a while. Please, sit down."
I perch on the edge of the chair Domhnall just vacated, the leather still warm from his body. My fingers find the armrests where his hands must have been, and I grip them like they might keep me tethered to reality.
"Was that---" I wet my lips, tasting the cherry lip balm I applied earlier. "Is Domhnall okay?"
Dr. Ezra adjusts his glasses, the metal frames catching the soft light. His expression remains professionally neutral as he settles into his own chair. "You know I can't discuss another patient's session with you, Anna."
"I know, but..." I trail off, watching raindrops race down the window. Two merge together, becoming faster, stronger as they slide toward the sill. "He seemed upset."
"Why don't we talk about why you're here today? It's been, what, four months since your last appointment?" He glances at a file on his desk, but I know he remembers exactly how long it's been. Dr. Ezra never forgets anything.
I shift in the chair, the leather creaking beneath me. My fingers play with the hem of my emerald dress---the one Domhnall loves, the one that makes me feel like I'm wearing armor. I'd chosen it carefully this morning, knowing I'd need courage today.
"I've made a terrible mistake," I whisper, the words scraping my throat like broken glass.
Dr. Ezra waits, his pen poised over his notepad.
"I went to see Dr. Resnick," I finally say, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "For hypnotherapy."
Something flickers across his face---so brief I almost miss it. Concern? Disappointment?
"I see," he says carefully. "And what did you hope to accomplish with Dr. Resnick?"
The air conditioning kicks on with a soft hum, raising goosebumps on my bare arms. Outside, thunder rumbles, distant but threatening.
"I wanted to get rid of Mads," I say, my voice barely audible over the rain. "For good."
Dr. Ezra doesn't look surprised, exactly, but his shoulders tense slightly. He sets his pen down, giving me his full attention.
"And how did that work out?" he asks, though I suspect he already knows the answer.
I stare at my hands, hating the rust-colored stains that still haunt me beneath my fingernails despite how I've scrubbed them raw. "It worked," I say bitterly. "Mads is gone."
"But?" he prompts when I fall silent.
"But someone else came in her place." The words taste like ash in my mouth. "Someone who calls herself Red."
Lightning flashes outside, briefly illuminating the room in stark white before plunging us back into the soft amber glow of his desk lamp. I count---one, two, three---before thunder follows, closer now.
"And this... concerns you?" Dr. Ezra asks, his voice frustratingly measured.
"Concerns me?" All that I can't say out loud bubbles up as a sudden, hysterical laugh from my chest instead. Oh, I don't know, Dr. Ezra, she just happened to kill someone. In our home. And then she... cleaned up tidily after herself.
Dr. Ezra's expression doesn't change, but his eyes sharpen, focusing on me with an intensity that makes me want to shrink into the chair.
I reach into my purse---the suede one Domhnall bought me last Christmas---and pull out the bottom half of the crumpled journal page. I ripped off the part mentioning the attack and shoved it in my glove box before coming in. My hand trembles as I pass it across the desk.
Dr. Ezra reads it, his face impassive. When he looks up, his eyes are grave behind his glasses.
"May I keep this?" he asks.
"Please," I whisper. "I don't want it anywhere near me."
He tucks the page into a folder, movements precise and deliberate. The storm has started properly now, rain lashing the windows, thunder shaking the building's bones.
"Anna," he says, and there's a gentleness to his tone that makes tears spring to my eyes. "I have to be blunt with you. Given your history of hypnosis-induced amnesia, this was a highly predictable outcome of such measures."
Heat rushes to my face, anger flaring hot and bright. "Well, why didn't you tell me that before?!"
"Because I thought we'd established enough trust that you would discuss treatment options with me before taking alternative measures.
" His voice remains calm, though his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on his armrests.
"And I did discuss all treatment modalities with you when we first began working together.
But granted, that was a long time ago, and you weren't in the best state at the time.
I should have reiterated the reasons for our current approach as we continued. "
I sink back into the chair, deflated. The leather squeaks beneath me, the sound oddly childish in the serious room.
"I take it Mads did something to push you to take such extreme actions?" he asks after a moment.
My eyes burn with unshed tears. "She ran away. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing."
The memory hits me with physical force---waking up bloody in the middle of nowhere, the car smashed all to hell. And me too fucking stubborn to realize she must have been running from danger.
"But the appearance of this new alter has changed your mind?"
"Yes," I say softly, watching rain streak the window like tears. "I need Mads back. She understood... things. Red is different. Colder. I'm afraid of what she might do next."
Dr. Ezra steeples his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, we'll just have to start over and try to establish co-consciousness with the new alter and bring her into conversation with you as primary."
"No!" The word explodes from me, sharp and panicked. I lean forward, pulse racing. "You can't talk to her. I just need you to find Mads."
Something shifts in Dr. Ezra's expression---a softening around the eyes, a sadness I don't want to see.
"Anna," he says gently, "it doesn't work like that. There's no magic pill, no simple hypnotic suggestion that can bring Mads back and send Red away. The mind is infinitely more complex."
"But there must be something---"
"I can only facilitate communication between the three of you," he continues. "I'd like you to try an exercise with me. Close your eyes."
I hesitate, then obey, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly feeling vast and dangerous.
"Imagine a meeting room," Dr. Ezra's voice guides me. "Comfortable, safe. A round table where everyone can see each other. Equal space for everyone."
I try, but all I can picture is the empty kitchen where I'd been baking, the moment before I lost time. The pie dough half-rolled on the counter. The buttery cinnamon scent in the air. The afternoon light spilling across the marble.
"I can't." My eyes flash open. The office comes back into sharp focus---Dr. Ezra's concerned face, the rain-lashed window, the antique clock ticking away on the shelf. "I've tried all that before. I don't have time for this." I reach down and grab my purse.
"Time for what, Anna?"
I bite my tongue, tasting copper. I can't tell him about the man with the tattoo and the encrypted messages on his phone. About the danger I'm probably still in right now.
"For... starting over," I finish lamely.
Dr. Ezra sighs, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.
Without them, he looks handsome, more human somehow.
"There are responsible therapeutic modalities we can explore for dissociative identity disorder, like the meditation and visualization we've already begun.
We can work on building co-consciousness gradually.
I know you're familiar with this approach---"
"It's too slow," I interrupt, my fingers twisting the strap of my purse. "I need help now."
"Anna," he says, replacing his glasses, "I'm also here for you if you just want to talk. It's important not to shut down your emotions. Whatever you're feeling---fear, grief, anger---it's valid."
I stand abruptly, my dress swishing around my knees. The storm outside matches the one raging inside me---violent, unpredictable, dangerous.
"I have emotions all right," I say, swinging my purse over my shoulder. "But I don't want to talk about them. I want to feel them."
His expression is maddeningly composed. "And how do you want to feel them, Anna?"
The truth burns on my tongue, begging to be released: I want to feel them with Domhnall. At the club. With him punishing me for my sins.
Instead, I head for the door, my heels silent on the thick carpet. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Ezra."
"Anna," he calls as my hand touches the doorknob. "Please be careful. Especially with this new alter. Don't push her away or antagonize her. Try to understand why she's emerged."
I pause, my back to him. "I know why she's emerged," I say softly. "To protect us. But that's the problem, don't you see? What Mads understood---what I understand now---is that sometimes the most loving thing you can do is leave."
I just don't know if I'm strong enough to do it without her.
I pull the door open and step into the hallway, the cool air washing over my flushed face. Behind me, I hear Dr. Ezra stand, the leather of his chair creaking in protest.
"Same time next week?" he asks.
I don't answer. I just keep walking, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, drowning out the storm.
In my mind, a voice that isn't mine whispers: You can't run from me. I live inside you.
And for the first time, I'm not sure if it's Mads or Red---or some part of me I've never acknowledged.
I just know I need to find Domhnall. I need his hands on me, around me, inside me. I need the sweet oblivion only he can give me---the perfect punishment for all my sins.
Because if I can't outrun what lives in my head, maybe I can burn it out instead.