Page 4 of The Girl and the Cobra

Whether he’s mad at my ogling or not, in the end it doesn’t matter because someone steps in between me and the open door, reaching for the doorknob and pulling it closed, thereby blocking my view of the scarred man.

I blink, suddenly realizing Dr. Wolf was the person who appeared and closed the door… and beneath his glasses, he wears a stern look on his face. Before I can apologize, he asks, “Do you have a habit of wandering where you don’t belong, Mabel?”

“I…” Any other words I might’ve said die in the back of my throat. Dr. Wolf can really layer on the scolding tone and make you regret every single decision you’ve ever made in your life. It takes me another few moments to say, “I’m sorry.”

It’s like a switch flicks inside Dr. Wolf, because that stern, slightly annoyed expression vanishes, and his whole face relaxes. “I have nothing to hide here, but perhaps you should ask next time you want a tour?”

All I can do is nod.

“Come. We’re already late starting your session.” Dr. Wolf turns around and takes the lead, and I follow him down the hall, away from that other man.

As we walk down the stairs together, I can’t help myself. Thoughts of that man, of all of the scars on his skin, still bounce around in my head. I ask, “Who was that man?” I’m aware it’s none of my business, but… I don’t know. I’m too curious about him for my own good.

Dr. Wolf is quiet for a few moments. He steps off the final stair and strides ahead of me as he leads me to his home office. “Another patient of mine, one who needs a lot more care and time than someone like you.”

Hmm. I wonder what that means.

We enter his office and he gestures for me to sit in one of the two leather chairs near the front windows. “In fact, you two aremy only patients right now.” He sits only after I do, and he never breaks eye contact with me as he does so. “I am very particular in who I choose to accept.”

I shift my weight around in the chair. It’s not the most comfortable seat. “Um. Why did you? I mean, why did you take me on?”

“I am one of the few people here who keeps up with what’s going on in all corners of our country. I know exactly what you’ve been through, so when your father contacted me and said he was thinking about moving into the area, I couldn’t say no. Now, I want to know more about you, Mabel. Tell me about yourself.”

I shrug. Talking about myself is not something I’m good at, but I told my dad I would try. “Well, I’m eighteen. I just graduated high school a few months ago. I was going to go to college, but…” My heart constricts in my chest.

“But what?”

“But, um, I can’t.”

“Why not?” When I don’t answer, Dr. Wolf asks, “Mabel, why do you think you can’t go to college? Is it the cost of admission?”

The question is so outlandish I immediately say, “No.” And then I spend a few moments trying to think of a way to say it without sounding completely crazy. “It’s just… what if people know me?”

Dr. Wolf’s brows furrow as he studies me. “Some might recognize you, but I highly doubt everyone would. College isn’t like high school. You blend into the crowd. There are thousands of you instead of hundreds—what’s the real reason you chose not to pursue college?”

I look at my knees, and for a quick moment, I’m thrown back into that library, to the time where I could only stare at my knees and wonder if my loud breathing was going to give us all away.

Thankfully I’m not trapped in the past too long, and I’m able to snap myself out of it and say, “I feel like it’s going to happenagain.” The way he looks at me after that, like we’re finally getting somewhere, makes me want to throw up, because I know what he’s going to ask next.

Dr. Wolf doesn’t ask the follow-up question right away. He tilts his head, as if he’s staring directly into my soul, and seconds tick by. “Why do you feel like it’s going to happen again?”

This time, when my chest feels the pressure, it takes everything in me to remain calm and not start hyperventilating. I say the words other people have said, the words I’ve thought over and over again since that day four months ago—the words a tomb: “Because it’s my fault.”

It is my fault. No matter what my dad says or what this therapist tries to tell me, nothing will change that. People are dead because of me, families broken and scarred because of me.

It’s my fault, and I don’t understand how anyone is supposed to live with this kind of burden.

Chapter Three – Tristan

Wolf said he was going to take on another patient. During their appointment times, I wasn’t allowed on the first floor of the house or outside on the grounds. My first instinct was to, of course, push the boundaries and see what he’d do if I did indeed make myself known on the first floor, but that thought quickly disappeared.

That’s the old me. The old me died in Cypress when my sister looked me in the eyes and shot me three times.

The old me tried so hard to do what he thought was right, to do what he thought his sister needed… and it all blew up in his face. The old Tristan Arrowwood died the day everything he fought for crumbled around him.

I should be thankful I’m not locked up anymore, but that’s not exactly true, either. This thing around my neck, with its electrifying failsafe should I try to leave the property, is another prison. It’s simply a larger one.

Wolf is my caretaker now. He is my owner, my master, my doctor; you name it. He says he wants to help me, but I don’t think he does. I don’t believe he actually cares about anything. I get a particular psychotic vibe from him—trust me, I’d know a fellow psychopath when I see one.

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