Page 57 of Sin of the Saints

He stares at me in disbelief for a long moment, then bursts into laughter. He surprises me, but I don’t give it away. “You know the administrator better than anyone, Dr. Abano. If he’s got something planned for her, you’re well aware he can’t be dissuaded once the decision has been made.”

“And that’s why you’re laughing at her expense? Aren’t you ashamed?” I force myself to breathe because the mask on my face is starting to crack.

“I thought you were supposed to be perceptive, Doctor,” he narrows his eyes and sarcasm drips from his voice. “The deaf could hear the bitterness in my laugh, but you’re too deep into this shit, and if I’m noticing that, you know the administrator himself is already aware of it as well. There’s nothing you can do now if you’re saying he’s got his eye on her. He’ll excuse any decision he makes as God’s plan.”

I ignore his nonsense. If I accept that, I’ll know it’s time for me to give up. But I just can’t. “I’m her therapist, damn it. You know I can’t let him get his claws in her. The paintings you showed her, and God knows what else, they led to a regression in her condition. They’re inducing delusions in her. You have to fix this. The administrator will listen to you.”

Mr. Fleming nods and takes a deep breath before responding. “I’ve given you my answer, and you refuse to accept it. You’ve gone astray, Dr. Abano, and the administrator won’t be pleased to hear it.”

“Is that a threat?” I want to show him that I’m not intimidated, but my body instinctively cringes before I can stop myself.

“No, it’s advice. You’re committing the same sin as your patients. You’re placing responsibility on me while the truth is far from it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She came to me with questions that came up after your little bit of research, Doctor.” He takes another step towards me, and I pull back, bumping into one of his easels. “Yes, she told me. Questioning religion, in a place ruled by it? Giving free reign to her demons while the administrator himself is determined to banish them? Just what game are you playing here?”

“I-I…” I stutter, unable to say another word, which causes him to burst out laughing again.

“If anyone should bear responsibility for her regression, it should be you. Of all demons, you allowed her to investigate the most malicious, and now it’s too late.” I want to respond but a heavy lump blocks my throat. I stand there open-mouthed for far too long, an accusing finger raised towards him, but no sound emerges from my throat. Mr. Fleming nods. “That’s what I thought.” He turns his back to me and continues getting the class ready for the lesson to be held after breakfast.

In my role as therapist, I require my patients to speak even when they hit a wall. And if they can’t, I ask them to write – just as I asked Belle. But suddenly I understand my own words, what I recently said to Belle: some things can only be expressed through silence. And my silence is thunderous and clear as day.

My nerves overpower me and I open the door to my office with a slam. Belle leaps up in her usual spot on the chair across from my desk, and lets out a cry of shock, “Holy shit!”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Belle,” I blurt out an unprofessional curse that’s atypical of me, and she looks at me with wide eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry.” I hit my forehead as I slip up and curse again.

“You already said that.” She looks at me and I still can’t meet her gaze, praying she won’t notice I’m troubled, and not just by the conversation with Mr. Fleming.

“I mean it, I’m sorry for being late and for startling you. I had some things to do.” I hurry to take a seat behind my desk.

“Like what?” I can’t blame her for her curiosity, but I can’t admit what happened behind the scenes either.

“Things that don’t concern you.” I evade her eyes and arrange the objects on my desk, as is my habit, but this time I’m not satisfied even when everything’s in its place.

“I thought as much.”

I take a deep breath and keep arranging the objects on my desk. Why the hell aren’t they lining up where they belong?

I decide to leave them be.It’s not them, it’s my head full of a whirlwind of thoughts, I remind myself. Now I have to focus on Belle. My fucked-up problems can wait.

“I’m glad you waited for me,” I say, bringing the notebook and my pen closer to me.

“I’d have kept waiting. It’s raining today.”

“Ah, yes.” I need to focus; I should know Belle doesn’t like rain.

“Yes,” she repeats after me, and I’m sure now that she knows my mind is elsewhere. She can see right through me, and knows I’m too meticulous with small details.

We examine our patients, but sometimes we forget they’re scrutinizing us even more. We demand trust from the most broken people, and that’s not a trivial matter.

I raise my gaze to her and am horrified to find an ugly wound on her lips. “What the hell happened to you?” She opens her mouth to say something, but at the last moment falls silent. “Talk to me, Belle. Who did this to you?”

She lowers her face, her long black hair plummeting down and covering her face like a curtain. I’m sure she’s staring at her thighs even though she’s wearing long pants today. I know she’s seeing through the fabric to her scars.

“It’s a long story,” she whispers.

“I’d like you to tell me.” I lean forward so she understands my focus is now entirely on her.

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