Page 16 of Hunting Pretty

“You might find the question unfair,” he said, his voice returning to its usual steady clinical tone. “But I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped.”

My tea was cold and bitter now. I set aside the mug and folded my hands in my lap.

Dr. Vale continued. “Some peoplelikepain. Their issues are now their identity. They enjoy suffering. It’s a thrill for them… being hunted by ghosts.”

God. Was I one of those people? Did Ilikebeing fucked up?

But wasIreally the fucked-up one, though?

There were people who seemed to move through life as if on tracks: prestigious school, excellent grades, an overpaid job thanks to daddy’s connections, a dutiful wife, a set of heirs.

They were going through the motions in a life someone else had laid out for them like a freshly pressed suit.

Like Cormac.

Was I fucked up for wanting… somethingmore?

“I don’t want to be broken,” I admitted.

“Then you want to get better?”

My phone started vibrating in my bag against my thigh. I ignored it. “Yes.”

“Healthy?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Vale stood and walked over to a cabinet, tugging a chain from around his neck where a small key hung at the end.

He opened the cabinet and turned a few labels on the shelf of pill bottles before picking one out and locking the cabinet back up.

I stared at the small white bottle in his hand, my stomach giving out an uneasy flutter. “What’s that?”

“It’s just a higher dose of the pills you’re already on.” His gaze was fixed on mine as he strode toward me, the pills clattering in his hand. “I want to hear you say that you know this… stalkerisn’treal.”

I opened my mouth to speak. Of course he wasn’t real… right? All I had to do was admit it.

“Ava?” Dr. Vale stopped by my chair and I was forced to stare up at him.

“How… how do I know for sure?”

He held out the pill bottle. “Tell me your stalker is a delusion.”

“My stalker is a delusion,” I repeated like a good, dutiful girl as I took the bottle.

“I will take my pills daily.”

“I will take my pills daily,” I repeated, my voice going hollow.

“And you will tell me if ‘he’ returns.”

“I… of course.” The memory of his fingers inside me made my pussy ache.

I practically fell into the front seat of my silver Mercedes-Benz GLC parked in the stone entry driveway outside of Dr. Vale’s tidy mansion, the pills clattering in the bottle in my hand.

That went well.Not.

I shoved the pills into my bag and pulled out my phone.

---