Chapter 24 #2
Blue tilts her head, studying me as if I've just said something especially pleasing.
Adrian's gaze sharpens. "So what, she cuts herself because she's bored?"
I firmly assert, "No. She cuts herself because she's overwhelmed or hurting."
"So she hurts herself because she's hurt? That makes no sense," Adrian hurls.
Blue's smile flickers. It's a hairline crack, but I don't miss it.
I explain, "Pain narrows focus. It pulls the mind out of spirals and into the body. That doesn't make it healthy, but it makes it understandable."
"I don't get it," Adrian admits, shaking his head at Skylar. "How did we do this to her?"
I acknowledge, "This isn't from something either of you did."
"Bullshit," Adrian growls.
"Dad! Don't talk that way to Dr. Mercer!" Blue orders.
He snaps his head toward her, then his eyes dart between us.
Silence thickens with heavy tension.
The hairs on my arms rise.
Skylar presses her lips together. She directs toward me, "Why didn't you tell us our daughter was hurting herself outside of the one event we knew about?"
"She's an adult. I can't breach confidentiality. That's why I suggested we have a family session," I answer.
Blue blurts out, "I knew you would panic!"
"That's because we love you," Skylar's voice breaks.
Blue shrugs. "Love doesn't always help."
The words land like a slap.
Adrian pushes forward on the couch, forearms on his thighs. "You're telling me this man—" he jerks his chin toward me "—is the one you talk to about this instead of us?"
"Yes," Blue says without hesitation.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I keep my voice level. "Blue, this is important. I want you to answer carefully."
Her eyes flick to mine, sharpened. "I will."
I inhale through my nose. "Why do you choose to talk to me instead of your parents?"
She doesn't answer immediately. She slides off my desk with infuriating grace and returns to her chair, crossing her legs, then recrosses them, never taking her eyes off mine.
"Look at them and tell them," I push.
She slowly spins. "Because he listens. And he doesn't make it about himself or my siblings."
Adrian bristles. "That's not fair."
"It's accurate," she counters.
I step in before this escalates. "Blue, listening doesn't replace parental support. It complements it. And therapy isn't a substitute for family. It's a container to help make family conversations safer."
She considers that, then nods slowly. "Okay, Dr. Mercer."
Skylar exhales like she's been holding her breath for an hour.
Adrian's eyes stay locked on me. Assessing. Measuring. Hunting for something unnamed. He finally asks, "What exactly do you do in these sessions?"
It's a reasonable question. It's also a dangerous one. I gather my thoughts and carefully answer, "We identify triggers. We build alternative coping mechanisms. We work on impulse control and distress tolerance."
"For the cutting?" he presses.
"Yes. And other things."
"What other things?" His tone sharpens.
I ask, "Have you noticed Blue has periods with high energy, hyperfocus, and obsession with people or things?"
"She's driven," Adrian declares, while Skylar bursts out, "Yes!"
They look at each other.
Adrian's expression looks like she's betrayed him.
Skylar tearfully insists, "We can't keep pretending something isn't wrong, Adrian."
Blue snaps, "Nothing is wrong with me!"
"You cut and stab yourself!" Skylar cries out.
"It's not a big deal," Blue hurls back.
"It is! Tell her it is!" Skylar orders, looking at me.
I put my hands in the air. "I think everyone needs to take a few deep breaths."
"Tell her," Skylar seethes through teeth.
"Blue knows it's a big deal. Don't you?" I demand, pinning my gaze on her.
Her jaw twitches like Adrian's. She doesn't blink.
"We've discussed this. Acknowledging you have a problem is the first step to fixing it," I remind her.
She releases a frustrated breath. "Fine. Yes, Mom. I understand it's not ideal to hurt myself."
"Good. That's good," I praise her.
Adrian barks, "How are you helping her?"
My chest tightens. I lift my spine straighter. "With replacement behaviors. Sensory grounding. Accountability."
Blue tosses an intimate smile at me.
Adrian notices. His gaze snaps to her. Then back to me. He accuses, "You're enjoying this."
She doesn't deny it, but crosses her arms.
I intervene. "Blue, your father isn't accusing you. He's trying to understand your internal experience."
She lifts one shoulder. "This is my internal experience."
I hold her gaze, harder, adding, "And part of that experience is testing limits."
Her pupils dilate.
Adrian stiffens. "Testing whose limits?"
I straighten in my chair, letting authority settle into my bones. "Everyone's. Yours. Mine. The system's."
"The system's?" he snarls.
"The entire structure holding Blue's care and authority."
Skylar looks between us. "Is that…normal?"
"Yes. For someone who feels controlled internally, testing external boundaries can create a sense of agency."
"Still not following," Adrian seethes.
I explain, "The system is everything and everyone that has responsibility for Blue's safety, decisions, limits, and protection. And it's the rules that decide who's allowed to do what."
Blue leans back, satisfied.
Adrian stands again.
This time, I don't ask him to sit.
"This doesn't sit right with me," he says, voice low. "She looks at you like—"
"Like what?" I ask, my nerves rattling.
He falters for a moment, then accuses, "Like you're more than her therapist."
Blue inhales sharply.
Skylar's head snaps toward him. "Adrian."
"What? Don't tell me, printsessa, you don't see what's going on here!"
The words lodge instead of echo, becoming a slow constriction, tightening low in my chest. The room sharpens at the edges. I adjust in my chair by a fraction, a corrective movement meant to look like comfort, while Blue's attention registers as heat without contact.
I refuse to meet it. Metal blooms on my tongue as I stack procedure and policy in my head like a barricade, holding Adrian's stare without flinching, aware of how neatly his accusation fits the room.
I remain still. "Blue, I want you to hear this question without reacting. Answer honestly."
She nods, jaw tight.
My heart races so fast, I'm sure Adrian can see it thumping against my chest. I question, "Do you believe our relationship has crossed any boundaries that make you uncomfortable?"
The room freezes.
Her eyes lock onto mine. Almost too fast, she denies the allegation. "No."
I don't let it pass. "Take a breath. Answer again."
She inhales, then exhales. She repeats firmer, "No."
Adrian scoffs. "Of course she'd say that."
"That's why this question matters. Trust in therapy isn't about secrecy. It's about transparency," I state.
"How convenient," Adrian mutters.
"Adrian!" Skylar reprimands again.
"I understand it's hard for those coming into therapy to understand the trust a patient has with her therapist," I offer.
"Convenient again."
"Adrian!" Skylar scolds through gritted teeth.
"What if we were?" Blue asks.
I freeze.
What is she doing?
Adrian's face turns red. "Were what?"
"What if we were lovers? Would that be so bad? Like if a man actually wanted me, would that be an unimaginable, horrible thing?" Hurt blooms on Blue's expression.
"He's your therapist!" Adrian booms, curling his fist tight to his side.
"That's not what I asked!" Blue shouts.
"Adrian, sit down," Skylar orders.
He meets her eyes, and defeat mixes with his anger.
"Sit," she repeats.
He huffs out a breath and obeys.
A hard, rhythmic pressure builds behind my temples, loud enough to drown out thought.
Thankfully, Skylar speaks calmly, "No one has ever said you're not lovable or that a man wouldn't want you, sweetie. You're gorgeous inside and out, extremely talented, and any man would be lucky to have you."
"But not Dr. Mercer," she retaliates.
What is she doing?
I do my best to keep my presence therapist-like, prodding, "Why don't you explain what you mean to your parents, Blue?"
She shoots me hurt, innocent eyes, then turns back toward them. "A man of Dr. Mercer's status and intelligence would never love me, would he?"
Adrian scowls at me.
Skylar gapes, before recovering. "No one said anything of the sort."
Blue's emotion-filled laugh tugs at my heart. She tears. "Tell me who could love me. Christian couldn't. Brax damn well didn't. Dr. Mercer sure as Hell can't!"
"Christian?" Skylar asks.
"Don't act like you don't remember! He kissed me on the cheek, and Dad did something to him! Then Brax never stood a chance since Dad threatened him too! And now he's going to do what? Kill Dr. Mercer!" she shrieks.
"Blue!" Skylar gasps.
"That boy kissed you in a back alley!" Adrian snarls, pointing at Blue.
"So what?"
"You don't belong in an alley! You're my daughter!"
"He never talked to me again!"
"Good! He didn't deserve you!" Adrian declares.
"You threatened Brax, too!"
"He's ten years older than you!"
Blue huffs, "So what? Age doesn't matter!"
Adrian's face turns maroon. "You were sixteen!"
"And you think a man like Dr. Mercer would never love a woman like me, right? Because I'm crazy?" Blue accuses.
Adrian's scowl snaps toward me.
Blue shrieks, "Don't look at him like that!"
I anchor my hands on my knees and force my body into stillness. Every ethical line I've ever sworn to stacks tight in my head. I keep my expression clinical while a slow heat crawls up my neck, aware that in this room, it doesn't matter who I am. It only matters that I'm the therapist.
Adrian's fists curl tighter. He hisses through clenched teeth, "No one is good enough for you. Not that cowardly boy, not Brax, and not your therapist! No one!"
I exhale through my nose and let a moment of silence pass.
"You still didn't answer my question," Blue quietly speaks.
Adrian arches his eyebrow.
"What would you do, Dad? Say I did love Dr. Mercer. Would you kill him and take him away from me like you took the others?"
My mouth turns dry. I swallow, but the lump stays lodged in my throat.
Skylar interjects, "Blue, your father loves you. So do I."
"No one said you don't," she retorts.
"We both want the best for you. Nothing less. It's normal for a father to be overprotective. Isn't it, Dr. Mercer?" She turns her pleading eyes on me.
I clear my throat. "Yes. It is. And while I understand, from a parental perspective, your desire to protect Blue, she sees it differently. Blue, can you look at things from your parents' point of view?"
She looks at her hands and twists them in her lap.
"You're my daughter. I love you. Tell me you know that," Adrian begs.
She looks at him tearfully and quietly says, "I know."
I let more silence settle, then declare, "I think we should move on from this for now. Have either of you noticed changes in Blue recently?"
Skylar nods. "She's…calmer. Focused. Sleeping more, but then at times...not." Her brows draw together, and her eyes flick between us, the corners of her mouth tightening as if she's bracing for what comes next.
"Improvements that come and go usually mean the coping strategy is working, but it's fragile."
Adrian drags a hand through his hair. "So she's still going to hurt herself?"
I turn to Blue. "Are you going to? Answer honestly."
She takes a breath, then looks at me. "I'm not sure. I'm trying not to."
Tension fills the air.
"How is therapy working if she still wants to hurt herself?" Adrian asks.
I answer, "Because progress doesn't always look like relief at first. Sometimes it looks like disruption."
Blue's foot taps once.
I catch it and gently remark, "Blue, you seem agitated."
Her eyes flash. "No, I'm not."
I counter, "You are. And that tells me we're touching something important."
Adrian exhales. "I want to know what happens next."
"So do I," Skylar adds quietly.
I nod. "Next, we slow this down. We establish clearer boundaries. We increase family involvement. And we ensure Blue's safety outside this room."
Blue's eyes turn to slits. She accuses, "You're changing the rules."
"How?"
"We increase family involvement?"
"Yes."
Her gaze sharpens, just as dangerous as Adrian's. "I don't need my parents breathing down my neck!" She jumps up and picks up the hourglass. The last of the sand falls. She watches it, then flips it back.
And I know, deep in my gut, that the most volatile part of this session hasn't happened yet.
Because Blue isn't unraveling. She's recalibrating. And she doesn't like losing control.