Page 3 of Seeds of Sorrow

Nodding, Don listened to her ramble about finishing college and trying to pay rent in her shitty little apartment without a job. Becoming a doctor was what she wanted—Peyton always yearned to help people—but school was expensive and it was going to take so damn long.

“Peyton Dimitra.” A stone-faced woman interrupted Peyton’s talk with Don, who hadn’t said anything as the girl spoke.

She offered him a shy smile in thanks. “Sorry about that. Guess I better go.”

Don beamed at Peyton, patting her hand. “Knock 'em dead, girlie. Well, actually, maybe not the best place to do that.” He winked at her as she laughed and jogged up to her interviewer.

Interviews always went the same way, in Peyton’s mind. Running through your entire background and education, then they started to quiz you. She didn’t usually mind the intrusion, but when Doctor Madison asked her why she wanted the job, Peyton found herself stumbling over her words.

“Well, it would be good practice. And the pay seems decent. Not that it’s about the money. But it is kind of about money. I need a job so I can finish my degree. I don’t want to go home. Willowbrooks isn’t where I need to be.”

Doctor Madison furrowed her brows and leaned back in the chair. “And you believe this is where you need to be?”

Peyton swallowed and nodded. “I…uh… Look, the job seems really good and stable. I haven’t been able to get anything else since finishing up my courses.”

“Wouldn’t it be a better plan to return home until you’re more financially secure before continuing with this career? We take this position very seriously, Miss Dimitra, and you need to be solely focused on it. Seeing as this position is for a research assistant, we really cannot afford for mistakes to be made by staff whose heads are elsewhere.”

“I can’t go home,” Peyton whispered quietly, her voice threatening to break.

The river of blood came to Peyton in flashing images, reminding her of the worst day of her life. Her sister’s unmoving, cold hand cradled in her own. That coldness still clung to her skin like an infected wound that refused to heal.

Peyton hadn’t realized that tears were streaming down her cheeks as she struggled to get a grip on her breathing, only noticing when Doctor Madison made her way around the desk to offer her a box of tissues and a glass of water from the dispenser in her office. “Close your eyes and breathe in for me, Peyton. Hold it. Good… Now exhale. Can you repeat that?”

She listened to the doctor’s calming voice as the woman guided her out of the first panic attack she had endured since being at Willowbrooks. That place, those memories… It was somewhere even Peyton’s mind didn’t want to be.

Once she had calmed down, and drank two more cups of water, Peyton offered up an apology to her interviewer. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry.”

Doctor Madison smiled empathetically as she perched on the edge of her desk. “No need to say sorry. Panic attacks are more common than you would think.”

It made Peyton queasy to recall how often she used to have them—and why did she just have to have one today after so much time had passed?

“Could we start over?”

Again there was that sad smile that made Peyton want to scream. Why couldn’t people just act like adults instead of tiptoeing around what they wanted to say?

“I’m truly sorry for whatever you may be going through, Peyton, but I don’t think you’re the right candidate for this position. I need someone who is all in, focused and alert, and able to deal with whatever I throw their way. I honestly believe you have incredible potential—your grades and recommendations from professors show that—but your head isn’t in it right now. That doesn’t mean it won’t be in the future. But please take care of whatever trauma is haunting you.”

If not for that final sentence, Peyton may have kept her emotions at bay long enough to escape the room with some dignity. But tears pushed their way free and she sprinted out the door, muttering apologies and thanks to the doctor.

“Peyton? What’s the matter?”

Peyton looked up through blurry eyes and saw Don sitting in the waiting room where she had left him, concern spread across that handsome face. He held his hand out to her, and for some reason, Peyton took a step closer and sobbed into the old man’s shoulder.

* * *

It madeher cringe to think about how much of a mess she had been that day, and just how easily she had let buried memories climb to the surface. If it weren’t for Don and his kindness, she would probably have ended up back at Willowbrooks, surrounded by the life she didn’t want and smothered by the memories she couldn’t escape.

The old man had guided her down to the hospital cafeteria, buying her a cup of herbal tea—good for the nerves, he said—and listened to her once more as she relayed what had happened. He never once asked why she had grown so upset during the interview or pried into what made her appear quite so emotionally unbalanced. Instead, he offered her friendly smiles and placating words of wisdom until she calmed down.

It was then, after they had drunk their tea and eaten far too many chocolate cookies, that Don had said he could use someone to live at the house and take care of him. Peyton had scoffed at the idea, stating she highly doubted he needed looking after, but he simply waved her off and wrote down an email for her to contact.

Peyton set an alarm on her phone, burrowed into a blanket, and smiled to herself. An act of kindness from a stranger had spun her life into a new trajectory, and she was excited to see what came next.

As she slipped into a light sleep before dinner, she wondered if she would figure out a way to get Hadina to warm up to her. Currently, her boss was ice-cool and Peyton didn’t want to think about why that gave her a thrill.

Look after Don… That was her job.

Look after…

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