Page 18 of The Dirty Saint

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After

“It’s nice to meet you, Ezra,” Dr. Safiya says, her hands folded onto her lap.

I look around the room, “You too.”

Dr. Safiya then puts her pen and paper down and sets her eyes on me. “It’s okay if you’re nervous.”

I shake my head. “I don’t get nervous.”

She nods.

“It’s okay if you are, though.”

I pull at my fingers and scrape the dirt from my nails. “Yeah.”

My eyes glance all over the place because, well, I don’t want to be here.

“I am only doing this because the army told me I can’t be re-enlisted without it. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings.”

“Therapy is not easy, so I get it. Really. I do.”

This time I nod my head in understanding.

“Well, why don’t we start from the beginning? Why don’t you start by telling me about your kidnapping?”

I suck on my bottom lip, trying to keep my nerves from getting the better of me.

“I was taken at a funeral. By a man who had been hired to kill me.”

“And why was he hired to kill you,” Dr. Safiya asks.

Because I killed his boss’s son.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess some people are just crazy.”

Dr. Safiya scribbles some notes down on the paper attached to her clipboard.

“What about your time in captivity? What was that like?”

It was fucking hell.

I take a breath, unable to meet her eyes.

“I was raped and tortured for over a month, which I know doesn’t sound like a long time, but when you’re living in fear and constantly anticipating death, it feels like a lifetime.”

“What kept you going?”

“My son,” I answer. “He’s the only thing that was worth coming home to.”

A tear trickles down my cheek, and I swipe it away with my finger. Dr. Safiya passes me the box of tissues, but I decline.

Have I mentioned I hate this?

“You sound like a wonderful mom, Ezra.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

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