Page 228 of The Harbinger

“I’m fine.” My voice remained steady despite the tears that threatened to spill.

“Are you really?”

“Yep.” I nodded. “Just trying to figure myself out.” Without Sacha.

“Good, I’m glad you’re taking the time to do that.”

She picked up her coffee mug and took a sip, her eyes fixed on me over the rim. As she licked her lips and set the mug back down, I couldn’t help but notice her perfectly manicured nails painted in a delicate shade of pink.

“What’s going on, Jenny?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. “How did you manage to get off the streets? You couldn’t afford a cup of coffee, let alone a car.”

She sighed. “Mia. I was never homeless.” She glanced around the room, then sat back in her seat. “My presence with you was solely intended to observe and evaluate your condition.”

I blinked incessantly, my fluttering lashes lagging behind and blurring my vision into black lines. “Observe,” I repeated, incredulity creeping into my voice as I pressed my hand against my chest. “Observe me?”

Jenny maintained a calm and empathetic demeanor. “I understand that this revelation may come as a surprise to you, Mia. However, it is important for me to clarify that my presence in your circumstances was purely professional in nature.

My stomach clenched, and my heart raced. The space around me closed in as I took deep breaths, abating the panic rising within me. “I’m listening.”

“To clarify, my legal name is Jennifer Jones, and I hold a doctorate in psychology. During our therapeutic sessions, you referred to me as ‘Doc’, but outside of our professional relationship, I am known as ‘Jenny’ to others.”

The air whooshed from my lungs like a deflated balloon. “You were my therapist?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Jennifer said calmly. “When we first began our therapeutic relationship, it was in response to your struggles with an eating disorder. You may not recall, but you experienced complications following your appendectomy, which unfortunately contributed to the development of this disorder.”

So that’s why Mom asked about my weight?

Jenny wrapped her hands around her paper cup and chewed on her inner lip, showing her first little insecurity since I’d met her. “After making progress with your eating disorder, you experienced a difficult period in which you fell into a group of peers who encouraged substance abuse and other risky behavior. You experienced depression and struggled with conflicts with your family. In the end you—”

”—tried to kill myself? Yeah, I know.”

“You do?” Her eyes brightened. “What else do you remember?”

A heavy weight settled on my chest. Whose benefit was this all for—her tell-all storyline. “Bits and pieces here and there. I remember a man named Nikolai torturing me before I finally escaped.”

Jenny’s face contorted with confusion. “Tortured?” she shook her head. “He never did such a thing to you.”

The memories of Nikolai’s twisted games still haunted me, leaving no doubt that he had indeed tortured me.

“How do you know who he is?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Jenny couldn’t know about Nikolai unless she was involved in some way. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end.

“Because I was there.”

With a resounding screech, my chair scraped across the floor, drawing the attention of everyone in the room toward us.

Jenny’s shoulders slumped, cowering from the attention.

“Mia, if you could please take a seat, I’d like to take some time to explain,” Jenny said gently, gesturing towards the table. “I understand that this news may be difficult to process, and I want to assure you that I have nothing to hide from you.

“Understand? You want me to—”

“It’s important for me to convey the gravity of this situation. Please.”

“I need some fresh air.” Yanking my jacket off the chair, I swiped it over my shoulders as she called out for me as I rushed out of the coffee shop.

“Mia. Wait.” She reached out for me, grabbing my puffy jacket sleeve. “I need to know what happened.”

I whirled around to face her, causing her to back away and raise her hands in surrender. “He tortured me,” I spat out, the memories of Nikolai’s sadistic games flooding back. “Left me tied up for days without food or drink. He did unspeakable things to me I can barely remember, yet the pain and trauma are still vivid.” My fists clenched at my sides, and I advanced toward her, my anger boiling over. “And you knew?” I accused. “You pretended to be my friend, pretended to be homeless, just to observe me? I’m not some lab rat, Jenny. I’m a human being, and you have no right to exploit my trauma for your own sick pleasure.”

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