58. Chapter 57
Chapter 57
Leon Aldon
I don’t know who keeps calling me, but I’m about ready to drive to their house and kill them. It’s not the ringtone specific for my work, so I know it’s not something important. I don’t know who the fuck else it could be, but they’re interrupting my time with Maeve, and I will not tolerate that.
I’m not even pulled out of her when my phone starts to ring again, and I huff in frustration.
I yank it out of my pocket, not even recognizing the number.
Yep, they’re going to die. I pick it up with an annoyed huff. “Dr. Leon Aldon.” I answer in the most docile tone I can fake.
Fuck, I’m annoyed.
I pull out of Maeve while I wait for a response, seeing my cum drip out of her. Nope, not letting that happen. I scoop up what’s dripped out with two fingers, carefully shoving it back into her. My girl tries to crawl away from me, clearly still feeling sensitive, but I won't let her get away from me that easily.
“Dr. Aldon, It’s Abby,” was the voice on the phone that not only confused me, but worried me. Abby shouldn’t have my personal number, and she certainly shouldn’t be calling me unless something is wrong. “Ms. Marino, what can I do for you?” I ask.
I give Maeve an apologetic look, but my girl just smiles at me.
Fuck, I love that smile.
When I pull my fingers out of Maeve, a mixture of us both coats my fingers, and I won’t let a drop of that go to waste, so I pull my phone away from my face for a moment. “Clean them.” I demand quietly to my girl.
I watch with a heated gaze, already wishing my cock would wake the fuck up so I could fuck her again as she wraps her lips around my fingers and her tongue glides across them.
God damn, I wish that was my cock she was sucking.
Her eyes never leave mine while she cleans the both of us off my fingers, and the only thing that could possibly distract me, does.
Abby clears her throat as if she’s nervous. “Dr. Aldon, I think I made a mistake.” She says quietly.
I shouldn’t be frustrated, but I am. I’m nervous about what Abby could be about to tell me and irritated that it’s ruining this moment with my girl.
What the fuck happened to my patient? I ask her what’s going on, listening intently while also cleaning up my girl and helping her get her shirt on without the fabric rubbing against her sore piercings.
Abby explains on the phone that there was a fifth man in the basement that night. She was just so out of it that she had convinced herself that it wasn’t true. She had convinced herself that she wasn’t seeing what she thought she was seeing, but now, seeing this fifth man again for the first time, she’s sure of it.
She’s sure that she had a fifth attacker and that she was so scared that she is currently in her bathtub with a razor, debating her life. “Okay, tell me where you are, Abby. I’m on the way.” I insist.
I’m not letting her kill herself when Maeve and I went through so much to help her, no fucking way. We’ll find the fifth man and make him suffer, but I’m not losing Abby like I lost Denise. I'm not letting Maeve feel like she failed Abby.
“What’s going on?” Maeve whispers.
I stroke my knuckles down her face and pull her close to me until I can kiss her forehead. “Go get in the car, ma fleur.” I whisper.
When my girl heads to the car, I head out to Tobin so I can pay, and we can leave. “Thanks for clearing out so we could do that.” I say kindly when it’s just the two of us.
He gives a grin and a shrug as he rings up our transaction on his computer. “Nah, man, it was worth it. She’s hot, let me know the next thing I get to pierce.” He says with a chuckle.
Nope. I don’t like that.
I give a short shake of my head and try to maintain my composure, but I know it’s slipping. I know the mask is dissolving, and this man is going to meet my rage. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” I say formally.
I’m counting down the minutes until I can get the fuck out of here and speed off to Abby, but I know I’m going to snap if he continues.
“Ah, come on, man. Let me pierce her pussy. I’ll do it for free.” He mentions.
Fuck…
I walk around the counter, grinning at this man while I pick up the letter opener on his counter. “It’s already been done, and I think you’re out of business.” I say with a shrug.
“What do-” He starts, but I cut him off when I stab the letter opener right into his jugular, and his words are replaced with the sound of gurgling and the look of panic.
I squat down as Tobin drops to the floor, basking in the frantic look in his eyes and the blood gushing out from behind his hand that will never stop the bleeding. “Like I said, I think you’re going out of business.” I say with a chuckle.
When he reaches for me, either desperate for revenge or help, I don’t care which, I smack his hand away and stand up. “Not so smug now, are you? Just a tip for the future: don’t comment on another man’s wife; they don’t tend to like it.” I say with a laugh.
On my way out the door, I flip the little open sign over and turn the main lights off. I’m sure somebody will find his body, but it won’t be right now.
My girl is sitting in the front seat, nervously bouncing her knee, but she smiles when she sees me, and all the anger from a moment ago fades away.
She makes the voices stop.
She makes everything quiet.
I jump in the car and plug Abby’s address into my GPS before handing Maeve my phone. “Let me know when to turn. Can you do that for me, love?” I ask.
She smiles beautifully and nods. “Of course. Is everything okay with the piercer?” She asks.
Everything is perfect; he’s exactly where he belongs.
“Of course, I figured I’d chat for a moment while he locked up for the day.” I lie.
She nods but doesn’t say anything else other than the occasional direction in the GPS, but her hand doesn’t leave mine, and her thumb strokes my hand as much as she can reach.
While I love that Maeve is trying to comfort me, I don't need comfort. I need to find out who the fifth man is. I need to stop my patient from making a horrible mistake. I need to get Abby far enough from the edge that I don’t have to have her committed.
Fuck, I feel like shit that Abby was calling me the entire time, and I didn’t answer.
When she’s more stable, I will ask her how she got my number and why she thought it was acceptable to call my personal cell phone, but not right now.
Maeve barrels past me as soon as we’re parked, not even waiting for me to open her door for her. “Maeve!” I yell after her, but she’s not hearing it.
A small part of me was scared that she was going to run from me, but she’s running toward Abby, not away from me.
I take off after her, running toward Abby’s apartment. She had left the door unlocked; I assume she had planned to call the police on herself and didn’t want them to have to break her door down.
It’s strange and fascinating how statistically women not only choose less graphic ways of suicide, but they worry about the person who will find them.
It’s a sad reality that even at the end of their lives, women are conditioned to think about others before themselves.
I don’t think I’d give a shit about the person finding me if I were that close to the edge; I’d worry about being gone and nothing else.
I should have pried more into her story; I should have done hypnotics or something, anything else to make sure she had a clear head and remembered it all, but being given drugs is tricky.
Sometimes you remember nothing, sometimes you remember it all, and sometimes the memories come back in flashes that almost seem like dreams.
It’s hard to predict how someone will react without knowing exactly what they were given and how much.
When I reach the house, Maeve is already in the bathroom with Abby. I rush in there, seeing Maeve climbing in the tub behind Abby. She takes the bloody razor from Abby, tossing it across the room. “Don’t put your piercings in the water, ma fleur.” I say calmly to her. She nods, but she doesn’t focus on me. She focuses on Abby, and that’s fine by me.
I squat down in front of the tub, making eye contact with Abby. “Is this your wife?” She asks calmly.
I nod, smiling at Maeve for a moment before focusing on Abby. “Tell me what happened.” I insist.
I see that she’s already cut herself once, a long slice up her forearm, but that she didn’t quite get deep enough to hit an artery. Thank God for that, but I can’t ignore this behavior. She's still heavily bleeding, staining the water with her blood until it's all a pale pink, and has stained both her and Maeve's clothes. "She's really pretty." Abby says.
I want to laugh, but this is a serious situation, and she’s trying to distract me from what brought us here. "She is. Now tell me what's going on."
Abby huffs, and her tears start back up, but she doesn’t explain herself. No, she stares over at me with a heartbreaking look and tears down her face. “You risked everything for me.” She mumbles.
What?
I raise an eyebrow and readjust my stance, already feeling a throbbing pain in my leg, but now is not the time for my discomfort. “What are you talking about?” I ask calmly.
I know that statement just terrified Maeve; I can see the look on her face, the one that showcases the genuine fear of going to prison for what we did to Abby’s rapists, but that will never happen.
“The pills.” She mumbles.
Ah.
“You risked prison to prescribe me those pills; why?” She asks quietly.
I sigh heavily and reach for Abby’s hand; I’ve made it a rule not to touch my patients, but I feel this warrants more than just a smile.
“Because I don’t give a shit. If I go to prison for refusing to let my patient carry a rapist’s baby, then I go to prison.” I reassure her.
I don’t give a fuck if Texas has made it illegal; I will not sit back and watch a woman lose herself for a rapist.
“I would have helped you if he wouldn’t have.” Maeve chimes in with.
“Your support is sweet, ma fleur.” I say kindly, but I’m not sure how my sweet girl could do anything to help her aside from a hug.
“Rue, yarrow, salvia, wormwood, safflower.” Maeve rambles.
My attention turns to her, and I raise an eyebrow at my beautiful girl. “What’s that?” I ask curiously.
She shrugs innocently and keeps the towel she’s holding pressed firmly into the cut along Abby’s arm, refusing to let up on it, thankfully. “Herbs to handle little problems like that.” She admits far too casually for my liking.
What the fuck?
You know what, that’s impressive—my little psycho genius.
“Okay then, remind me never to let you go to the flower shop alone.” I tease, winking at her when she glares at me.
As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I need to get back to what brought us here. “Tell me what happened.” I repeat for what feels like the dozenth time.
Finally, with a heartbreaking sigh and more tears, Abby explains to me what happened. She explains that at the party, the four men dragged her to the basement but that she had thought she’d seen a fifth. She explained that she ruled that out as a hallucination when she remembered that the fifth man she saw was actually gay.
She explains that this morning, she saw him while walking toward administration to ask about the possibility of enrolling in her classes again.
I’m proud of her for being ready to go back and finish her degree. I'll have to tell her that another time, but she goes on to say that this fifth man, who she thought was gay, winked at her when they made eye contact. She said it was exactly what he did that night, and that was how she knew it wasn’t made up in her mind.
“Abby, tell me who he was.” Maeve insists. I want to interrupt; I want to tell her that this isn’t how this works. She needs to talk through her trauma, not name her attackers, not yet, at least. It’s far too soon, and Abby is far too fragile right now.
But Abby answers. “His name is Sean Black; he’s a baseball player. I can’t go back to that school.” Abby cries, leaning into my girl so heavily that I see Maeve wince from the pressure on her piercings, but she doesn’t stop her.
No, Maeve’s face looks horrified and shocked.
Her roommate, her gay roommate, attacked a woman at a party. "Abby, who spiked your drink that night?" My girl asks calmly.
I know exactly where her train of thought is going, and honestly, my head is in the same place. "Carlie Summers." Abby says with a broken sob that makes Maeve hug her tighter.
I know that Maeve is thinking; she’s terrified that she could have been the next one. She’s scared that at any point, maybe she was one of their victims and didn't know it. She’s scared that her former roommate could have also been one of his victims or even his accomplice. I can see it on her face. I have to comfort my girl, but I have to get Abby situated first. I hate this, but I need time to think and plan, and I can’t do it if we can’t leave Abby’s side.
I step out of the bathroom, leaving Maeve with Abby while I call an ambulance. I explain my situation, who I am, and what is happening, and I also make a call to the psychiatric facility and explain that they need to expect Abby back and to have a bed ready for her.
She’s not going to like it, fuck, I don’t like it, but it has to be done.
When I come back into the bathroom, Maeve is running her hand through Abby’s hair, telling her that everything will be okay and that the universe has a way of making things right. I don’t know if my girl is being optimistic or if she’s having the same thoughts that I’m having, but it doesn’t matter either way.
Sean’s going to fucking die.
I don’t tell the two what’s happening, not until the paramedics rush in and a few nurses from the facility follow behind. Even then, I don’t explain. I don’t think I have to, but I don’t miss the look Maeve gives me while they load Abby onto the stretcher and explain to her that she’ll be staying at the facility for a while.
It’s not like I have a lot of options; the girl literally called me from the bathtub after slitting her own wrist. I can’t just leave her alone in her apartment.
Once the ambulance is gone and Maeve and I are alone in Abby’s apartment, I wipe the blood from my girl’s body and steal an outfit from Abby. It doesn’t fit. Abby is a little thicker and much taller, but it’s better than wet clothes stained with blood and old bath water.
The whole way home, my girl is pouting. She's huffing and sighing, just so I know that she’s unhappy with me. I reach for her hand, taking hers into mine even though she tries to stop me, but I won’t let her.
I can’t not be touching her.
“I couldn’t leave her alone; she would have tried again. You know that, right?” I ask her. I hate that she’s mad at me right now. I’m doing my job. It’s not like I enjoy locking people in facilities. I fucking hate it, actually, but I had to make a professional decision.
I shouldn’t even have to explain myself to Maeve; I’m a fucking licensed psychiatrist, for fuck sake!
I’m considered the best in the business, yet here I am, begging a college girl to understand the decisions I make.
“This is what’s best, ma fleur. It had to be done.” I mention again.
Again, why am I explaining myself?
I doubt she’s even taken an Introduction to Psychology class.
Wait, why does it matter? Her feelings are valid; I just need to figure out what she’s thinking and why.
“Maeve…” I start, but she cuts me off with a loud huff.
“You were a butthole. Those places are terrible!” She says, finally turning to look at me.
Like I didn't already know that! “I fucking know, Maeve!” I yell.
Fuck, I immediately feel bad for raising my voice at her when she jumps at my tone.
I never yell at my girl, what is wrong with me today?
“I know, love. I’ve been in a facility just like that, but I can’t do anything else with her right now. She can’t be alone, she needs her medication adjusted, and she needs medical attention.” I explain calmly.
I’d be fine with an argument; she could slap me if she felt she needed to, but my girl doesn’t answer me; she doesn’t even spare me a glance.
I hurry up and pull over when I realize how upset Maeve looks. I don’t know if I scared her by yelling or if she’s genuinely this upset about me having to have Abby committed, but I intend to find out.
I put the car in park and turned to face Maeve. She’s staring out the window, refusing to make eye contact or even turn her head. I grip her chin, turning her to look at me. It breaks my fucking heart when I see my girl crying, that I’ve made her cry.
I wipe her tears with my thumbs, waiting for her to calm down a little before figuring out what is happening right now.
“This isn’t about Abby; tell me what’s going on.” I insist. I hold her face in my hands until she feels ready to tell me, that’s fine. I have all the time in the world for my girl. I’m just hoping she’s not upset because she’s scared of me right now.
I never want Maeve to be afraid of me; I can't believe I just raised my voice at her.
Unrelated, but I have to remind myself later to tell my girl that she’s a beautiful cryer. Her nose turns red, her lips get puffy, and her eyes look so beautiful with water clouding them, but now is not the time. Not when she’s sniffling and huffing to try and compose herself enough to talk to me.
“My mom had me committed when I was 12. She didn’t think celiac was real, and she kept feeding me food that made me sick. So I refused to eat; she had me committed for being anorexic. They treated me so poorly there! It took weeks for someone to actually listen to me and take me seriously, but when they did, they spent weeks trying to convince my mother that I was serious. It didn’t click for her until one of the nurses introduced my mom to her sister. She was celiac, and she was in rough shape. She had an ostomy bag and developed MS. She was in a wheelchair because her bones were so brittle.” She explains through little sniffles.
My poor girl, I keep stroking her face with my thumbs, keeping her close to me while she pours her heart out. “I’m so sorry, love. You should have never had to feel that, but I promise, I won’t let them treat Abby poorly. This is a nice place, the only place in the state I will send any of my patients to. You have to trust me on this.” I say calmly to her. She nods, sniffling a little. “Trust me, okay? I will have her out in a few days, I promise.” I say calmly to her.
She still doesn’t respond, but she does lay her head on my shoulder when I pull her against me and run my hand through her hair. “I promise, ma fleur, I’ll make this right, okay?” I whisper on top of her head.
“Mmhm.” She hums, but I don’t need her to answer me; I only need her to trust me.
It’s all I will ever need of her. I can love her enough for both of us and our future kids, but I need her to have faith in me.
“Let's go home, okay?” I whisper after a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence. She nods but doesn’t say much else the entire way home. Even when I stop at a local place and pick up takeout for my girl, she doesn’t say anything, but I don’t miss the light in her eyes that she can do the one thing she’s been talking about since starting college.
I’ve heard her talking in her sleep, mumbling about stopping for a quick bite after a long day at work. I want that for her.
That and anything else she could ever dream of. I want her to have everything.
Maeve lets me lead her into the bathroom as soon as we get home. I sit her on the sink and peel her shirt off. "How are you feeling, ma fleur?" I ask calmly. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, grazing my knuckles along her cheek. She nods but doesn't respond otherwise. "You know what I need to do, right?" I ask her.
I don't want her to have any delusions that I'm not going to kill Sean, but I don't want her to think she has to be involved, either. I can't imagine that would be easy for her.
She nods, putting her hands on my shoulders. "I want to do it." She says confidently.
“Woah, slow down, Icarus.” I say with a slight chuckle.
She raises an eyebrow at me, either in challenge or confusion. I’m not sure. “He’s-” I start, but she cuts me off with a smack to the chest. “Don’t patronize me; I know who Icarus is. I might be studying the environment, but I’m not a total dunce.” She says with an aggravated huff before continuing her tirade. “He was my roommate; this could have been happening right under my nose, and I noticed nothing and did nothing. I want to do it.” She states confidently.
I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay.” I promise her. If she wants to do this, I’ll do anything I can to help her, including taking over when she loses her nerve. “Tell me the plan, and we’ll make it happen.” I promise.
“Thank you.” She mumbles as she lays her head against my shoulder.
I'm careful not to bump into her chest, but I hug her when she clings to me. I rub my hands down her spine, needing her to know that I'm here for her and that I'll help her as much or as little as she needs.
"Can we pick him up tonight? I'd like to get Abby out of there as soon as possible." She mumbles into my neck.
"We sure can." I promise.