Page 41 of Good and Gone

Dr. Bennett is sitting across from me, relaxed but also eager. I look at her face, flawless, as though she's never lost a day of sleep. I notice her hands and her perfectly manicured nails, and I remember the days of being that carefree.

"The walls are gray and cold," I say, "like a hospital." Dr. Bennett looks at me with a questioning expression on her face.

"What do you mean?" she asks, as though it's the first time she's ever noticed the color of the paint on her walls.

"It reminds me of that room—the room where they held me." I realize that the walls of this session room look just like the walls of the room where they had locked me away to die. The thought sends a panic through my body. Dr. Bennett seems to notice this; her eyes widen briefly, but then become neutral again. I'm expecting her to ask me to clarify further, and I've just remembered something, something that could be helpful, but she doesn't ask.

"I want to talk about what happened with Tyler, Hailey. When you woke up, what did you see?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" she shifts in her chair, sitting upright so that her posture matches mine. "When you attacked your husband, you don't recall why? Or what might have triggered it?"

"I don't recall doing it at all."

"I'm going to give you some tough love, Hailey."

I say nothing, because what is there to say? If she's asking permission to make me feel worse than I already do, I will not hand it to her.

"If you're a danger to yourself and others, we're going to need to start exploring other options."

"Like what?" I'm expecting her to say medication, because they've already tried to shove that down my throat a thousand times. But the problem is, I've spent my life dedicated to health. I've built a business, a brand, on keeping my lifestyle as clean as I possibly can. I have been medicated and held in that room, held against my will, and I refuse to feel like that ever again. But none of that matters because that's not what she says.

"We might start thinking about some inpatient therapy to assist with your healing. I have some great rec—"

"What, like a psychiatric hospital?"

"Well, we call them healing centers now—rehabs. Times have changed, Hailey. You should consider what I'm saying. Keep an open mind. It may not be what you think."

"I don't think a 'healing center' will fix the weeks of terror I lived through."

"You're right, of course. But it might lead to some breakthroughs you haven't considered. And if you decide to talk, you have someone available 24/7."

"Why would I need any of that when I have you?"

"You're angry," she says. "That's a positive sign."

"Nothing about this is positive," I tell her, standing to leave. The room is spinning, and I have nothing left to say.

Tyler is in the hallway outside the office with my mother. "Which one of you put her up to this?"

My mother looks at my husband. He's looking at me like I'm a stranger. Neither of them answer my question.

The ride home from the hospital is quiet. I have no doubt my mother is going over a list of potential facilities in her mind. Tyler keeps his eyes on the road and tries to pretend that everything is fine, when it's clearly not. He looks at me now and then in the rearview mirror, and I can feel his mind racing.

I spend the rest of the day in bed. No one bothers me. My mother takes the kids to her house after school. I know this because I look at the clock and it's too quiet downstairs for them to be here.

When I wake, it's pitch black outside. I was having the dream again, the one where I'm standing at my front door wondering which way to run. I glance at the clock. It's 2:58 in the morning. I don't even remember going to bed. Another day of my life gone, wasted. Lying there, I recall the conversation with Dr. Bennett, and the way Tyler looked at me on the way home, and I know I can’t go on like this. I escaped that room, but I’m not free. I’m a prisoner in my own home, and I’m holding the people that love me captive just the same. Maybe it would be better for everyone if I did go to one of those “healing centers.”

The thought of it gives me chills, and I know I have to try something else first. It may be a last resort. And sure, it’s a terrible idea and likely just another dead end. But it’s all I’ve got. What if this girl does know something? Something that could put those men behind bars and provide my family the peace it deserves? I pick up my phone and respond to the latest email from Rose.When can you meet?

29

Hailey

Iam up and dressed by six. I’ve even added a touch of makeup to try to hide the dark circles and add a bit of color to my otherwise washed-out complexion. Of course, that’s not all I’m hiding. I tell Tyler that I have an appointment with Dr. Bennett, and that my mother will drive me. I tell my mother the same, only Tyler is the driver in that story.

I set the meeting with Rose for nine o’clock at a coffee shop around the corner from Dr. Bennett’s office, even though I don’t actually have an appointment. I considered asking Detective Coburn to accompany me, but Rose’s email said no cops, and Barry very much looks like a cop, so I asked Lauren instead. She positions herself at a table outside on the sidewalk, facing the street, so she can watch for anything or anyone suspicious. After ordering a latte, I grab a seat inside. The place is jam-packed with loud people, and it feels overwhelming whereas it once would have been just a regular day. A warm latte sits on the table in front of me, untouched, as my stomach knots and I try to settle my nerves.

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