Chapter 21
Healing Isn’t Textbook
Emily's Search History: Why do I feel safer with a murderer than my own mother?
Emily
“What time is it?” I ask Eli after I finally pull myself together.
He pulls out his phone. “Five-thirty.”
“I have a therapy session tonight.”
Eli shakes his head, frowning at me. “No, I cancelled all your clients.”
I push myself up from the floor. “No, this is a private session. I can’t cancel it.”
He pauses. “It’s Tuesday.”
“Yes?”
“You have these sessions every week.”
That has me freezing. “You’ve noticed?”
“Yes.”
Shaking off my unease, I wave a hand through the air. “Well, anyway, I have to have this meeting. It’s important.”
“Okay, but I’m staying in the room.”
His words are final, yet I can't help be push back. “No. You can’t. Patient confidentiality—”
“I don’t care. I won’t listen. But I’m staying.”
“No.”
Eli crosses his arms, his muscles straining distractingly. “You know I’ve been listening to your sessions for the past couple of months.”
My mouth opens and closes and my brow furrows. I hadn’t known that. But I guess I should have. It never crossed my mind. I deflate, knowing I won’t win. “I want to wear headphones so you can’t hear her.”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
Eventually, I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
Eli makes us dinner, then brings me my laptop.
I sit at the kitchen table, while he sits on the other side.
At seven, the screen lights up with Izzy’s call.
“Hi, Izzy, how are you this week?”
The last couple of sessions she’s been quieter than normal.
I took her on as a client as a favour to Enzo Russo.
He’s a friend of Carina’s. And the nephew of the leader of the Italian mafia.
His father runs his own banner in New York, meaning he’s their heir to the New York mafia. Big deal. Not someone you say no to.
Izzy’s his wife, and she was assaulted by her ex-husband. A few weeks ago she was kidnapped and lost the baby she was carrying.
This week, she seems a little more herself.
“I’m doing… okay, I guess. We had a memorial. I named the baby.”
I smile, trying to ignore Eli’s eyes on me. “What did you choose?”
“Alessandra, if they were a girl, and Alessio, if they were a boy.”
“That’s nice. Why those names?”
Izzy smiles sadly. “Those are my parents' names. It seemed fitting.”
“What did you do for the memorial?”
She looks at me through the screen, her eyes slightly reddened. “Buried the pregnancy test and sleeper I bought to surprise Enzo.”
“How did that make you feel?”
She pauses before answering. “I feel… a little lighter, I guess.”
“Last week you barely spoke to me. This week you seem more forthcoming. So the memorial helped?”
“Yeah, it did. Naming them made it more real. Gave me some closure. And it helped knowing Enzo was struggling too—I thought I was drowning alone.”
I’m glad that she has someone else to lean on. Someone who cares for her as deeply as Enzo seems to. I look over at Eli. He’s still staring intently at me.
I gulp, refocusing. “I imagine it’s hard when you don’t grieve in the same way.”
“Yeah. Plus… I haven’t really had anyone to talk to. With Tess having the baby, we didn’t want to ruin things.”
“Well… you have me. Don’t forget that.”
I’m not sure I’m really the best person though. I’m hardly the voice of reason—of sanity—when I’m sitting across from a man who kidnapped me.
“And what about Noemi? Have you spoken to her at all?” Noemi is involved in Enzo’s operations, but she’s also become one of Izzy’s closest friends.
It's startling how much knowledge you gain from being a talking therapist. I know far too much about the mafia than someone completely removed from it should.
“No,” Izzy tells me, dejection clear in her tone. “I couldn’t handle her sunshine when I was so far in the dark.”
I raise a brow, not speaking.
Izzy groans. “I know, I know. Saying it out loud makes it sound stupid. I need her positive energy.”
I laugh quietly, glad she’s understanding the irrationality behind her thoughts. “So perhaps your homework this week is to give her a call. Maybe even meet in person, if you’re up for it.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I peer at Eli again before asking, “How is the anger now that all the men who hurt you are gone? Has it had the effect you wanted?”
Izzy smirks at me. “I know you want me to say no. To admit murder isn’t the answer. But… yes. God, yes.”
She’s talking about the men that raped her, leaving her for dead. She and Enzo found them, killing them together.
Eli's still watching me, even with the headphones on. He killed Tom for touching me. Would he see that as parallel?
Is that love? Or madness?
I shake my head. I’m surrounded by criminals. “I’m glad it was the catharsis you needed—however you got there.”
Am I really glad? Or am I just understanding it in a way I never did before?
Before we can say anything else, there’s a distant shout. “You can’t hide from me forever, Isolde Russo!”
Izzy winces. “Ah. That’s Noemi. The ignored calls must’ve gotten to her.”
“Speak to you next week,” I say, ending the call
I close the laptop slowly, not quite ready to look at Eli again.
Silence stretches between us.
“She was kidnapped,” Eli finally says after I remove the headphones. It’s not a question.
“How do you know that?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been listening for weeks, remember?”
I huff. “Yes. She was kidnapped”
“By her ex?”
“No. She already killed her ex. This was another man who hurt her.”
Eli’s eyebrows raise slightly. “She killed them herself?”
“With her husband's help, yes.”
“Do you think she’s wrong to have done that?”
The question hangs between us. A month ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have wanted to diagnose the trauma response, to help talk her out of an unhealthy coping mechanism.
Now?
Now I’m sitting here, in a house my stalker brought me to against my will, counselling a woman who takes violent justice into her own hands, and I can’t find it in myself to condemn her choices.
“I think,” I say carefully, choosing my words with precision, “that sometimes healing isn’t textbook. Sometimes, the person that helps you is dangerous. Sometimes you have to do dangerous things to feel whole again. And maybe…” I swallow hard. “Maybe that’s not always wrong.”
Just look at Tess. She killed her rapist. That added to her healing process.
She has no regrets. Neither does Izzy. Carina killed her father for what he did to her.
And I know she continues to kill those the justice system fails to catch.
She hasn't told me directly, but she's never been good at hiding things from me.
Eli seems to look at me in a new light after my admission—his eyes hold an understanding.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For letting me do this.”
Eli shakes his hand. “You don’t need to thank me for letting you be yourself, Angel.”