Page 25 of Visions of Darkness

“May I ask you a couple questions?” she asked as she glanced at her screen.

Worry blistered and blew, and I fidgeted with my fingers as I drew my knees to my chest. “Sure.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Aria Rialta.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to clear the residual of my breakdown from earlier.

“Date of birth?”

“February 24, 2005.” I failed at keeping the resentful bite from the words.

I’d only had to make it three days.

Three days.

And here I was.

She seemed to sense where my thoughts had gone, and she sighed as she shifted forward and pulled her glasses from her face. “This isn’t about taking your freedom away, Aria. This is about helping you get well so you can live a happy and productive life.”

I dropped my eyes and stared at the thin blue bedspread beneath me. How was I supposed to respond to that?

“Your parents are really worried about you,” she continued. “The only thing they want is to help you.”

A frown came unbidden. She had no idea how much I loved my family. How badly I didn’t want to hurt them. How I hated dragging them through their misconception of who I was.

“I know that.”

“Yet you fight them.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I sagged against the wall.

I was so tired of it.

The fighting.

The fear.

She resituated her glasses on her nose. “Why don’t we let you rest this evening since you’ve had a stressful day—but tomorrow I want you to participate.” Standing, she stared down at me. “Deal?”

My nod was tight. “Deal.”

At least then I’d have some time to figure out what to say to get free of this.

“You’re going to thrive, Aria Rialta. You’ll see.”

Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she moved to the door, and she smiled back at me from the threshold. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.”

Chapter Eight

Aria

Voices carried over the stark-white floor of the cafeteria. I pushed a heap of something unrecognizable around on my tray, knowing I should eat and keep up my strength, but it felt impossible to lift the plastic spoon to my mouth.

No way to swallow the bitterness that soured my stomach and crushed my spirit.

Exhaustion had set in, bone deep, and I found myself fighting the sleep that I had begged for earlier but hadn’t come. The aftereffects of the sedative lingered in my veins, luring me toward a blissful state of unconsciousness.

Or maybe it was just the knowledge that I would soon return to Pax that pulled me in that direction. The need to be with him, to stand and fight at his side, that made me ache for the tiny bed in a foreign room that I knew would be waiting.

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