Chapter Thirty-Six
Quinn - Present Day
Graveyard whistling - Morgan Wallen
I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t nervous. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, I’ve not known him very long, and I’m about to let him inject ketamine into my veins. Some would say that’s insanity. I would say it’s a calculated risk. The man did break me out of a mental institution after all.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this? Once I inject you, I can’t take it back. Whatever comes out we have to process.”
“Just fucking stab me already, will ya?”
He snorts. Actually snorts. “Where is everyone else?” I ask. Hyper aware of the fact that I’m about to process information and memories that I’ve avoided for the entirety of my adult life. “X has taken Rhiannon on a stakeout for an extraction, and Lulu is stuffing her latest acquisition.”
“I have so many questions.”
“And I’m sure she has the answers. You just have to build that trust with her a little bit before she lets you in. She’s hard as nails and looks like she would skin you alive at the drop of a hat—”
“I’ve only just met her and can tell you she absolutely fucking would.”
He laughs. “She’s like a rottweiler, but she has the heart of a lion. She will protect the people she loves fiercely, most of the time to the detriment of herself. But once she lets you in, you’re in for life, so you’d better not fuck it up.”
“As if I could.” She flutters her eyelashes at me in that innocent-but-seductive way that some women are so good at.
“Behave yourself, Little Magpie. If you carry on, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Dr Bones.”
He grabs my bag with the supplies for the session.
“So, the premise of this type of therapy is to provide rapid relief for your PTSD symptoms. Clinical research studies showed a strong percentage of patients noticing a difference in their triggers and ability to manage their condition. It helps to promote something called neuroplasticity, allowing the brain to form newer, healthier neural patterns.”
“You’re so sexy when you speak doctor.”
He shakes his head at me before continuing.
“The other benefit is that it has analgesic components that may help with your chronic pain. Some say that the low doses only help during the infusion. Others say that if you do it over a longer period, the benefit is much more. There are potential side effects.”
“Which are?”
He sets up the IV bag on the stand next to my chair. “Some can be psychedelic. Hallucinations, for example. Nausea, panic attacks. I can give you a benzodiazepine to help with the potential hallucinations as well as something for the excess saliva you may experience.”
He puts a pot of tablets in front of me.
“I need to be clear that this isn’t a widespread treatment.
The dosage is based on your weight, which I know you were uncomfortable with giving me, and is administered over forty to sixty minutes.
During that time, we will start the process of talking, and then I’ll follow your lead.
Afterwards, I will observe you for an hour until the effects start to wear off.
Then we will talk about insights from the session and where to go from there. I also have something for you.”
“Oh, you are spoiling me. Stabbing me with needles, drugging me to find out my darkest secrets and presents. What more could a girl ask for?”
“I fucking love this side of you coming out more. There were glimpses of it that night in the café, but seeing you relaxed and, dare I say it, happier, is becoming a bit of an addiction for me.”
He pulls out a journal and a pen and passes it to me. The journal is glittery pink and gold with different sections in it. The pen is a perfect match: rose gold with sparkles at the top like a rip-off version of Swarovski.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s important that you have an outlet and a way to process your thoughts, feelings, emotions and memories after the infusion that you can do solo.
I know you’re not a fan of feeling your feelings, especially by yourself.
Journaling is a perfect representation of that.
It’s for your eyes only, but each evening I want you to reflect on the session, and that way if you have lingering feelings on something important, we can address them in the next one. ”
“I hate journalling.” The idea of putting pen to paper and writing my deepest fears down for someone to discover is terrifying.
He smiles at me. “That’s probably because you’ve never had an intentional way to do it. But now you do. This is a tool in your arsenal for you to build a version of Quinn that no one can take away from you.”
“That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.” I twirl the pen in my fingers, revelling in the smooth but cool finish of the metal. “This pen looks like one of those expensive ones I see rich people using.”
His eyes glint. “That’s because it is.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“You bought me a Swarovski pen to use in a journal you had no guarantee I would write in?”
“Well, if you want to be technical, Lulu bought it. I just gave her the money,” he smirks, the dimples in his cheeks getting bigger. His piercings add so much character to his face, but it’s like an enhancement of what’s already perfect.
“Now you’re splitting hairs.”
“You deserve the best, Little Magpie. And where I’m concerned, that is what you shall receive.”
He grabs the equipment to insert the cannula into my arm. “Sharp scratch.” I don’t flinch.
“All that time in hospital had some benefits,” I say with a shrug.
He shakes his head. If this man isn’t careful, he’s going to give himself a concussion.
He connects the cannula to the IV bag before twisting the dial and letting the liquid flow.
“Here we go, Little Magpie. Your brand new life is waiting on the other side of this.”
I feel the cool liquid seeping into my veins.
“A brand new life I intend to spend listening to the sound of your laugh and admiring the dimples in your cheeks.”
He leans back in his seat and poses. “Paint me like one of your girls, Jack.”
We both burst into laughter. It’s a nice distraction from the tightness in my chest as I think about the darkness I’m about to encounter.
“Wait!”
He looks at me in alarm. “What’s the matter? Does it hurt?”
“No, nothing like that. I need Ted. I know I have you, but he grounds me. In this moment you’re my therapist; I need a comfort that can actually comfort me without breaking any boundaries.”
“Jesus Christ, woman, I thought you were fucking dying.”
I sit back in the chair and breathe deeply, closing my eyes and focusing on the silence around me.
“Not a chance. I’m not going to make it that easy on them this time. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I say it’s best served bloody, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”