Page 226 of On a Fault Line

She has kids.

Three kids.

We would often sit in the courtyard together and enjoy feeding the koi fish in the little pond. She helped me get set up with horseback riding lessons as part of my ongoing therapy regimen. She was my advocate when it came to group sessions.

Dr. Radinsky never forced me to talk. She waited until I was ready, and it took me a very long time to be ready.

She made me feel safe.

She treated me like a human and not some vegetable that needed to be fixed.

I try to tug her up, but she’s all deadweight. She came here tonight because I was admitted. She was the on-call doctor at the time. And now she could die.

There may be blood on her head, but there is more on my hands.

I’m at fault for her getting hurt.

It’s my fault.

And I can’t help her. I can’t even help myself.

Glancing down the hall, I look for a lifeline—anyone who can help—and I am struck with the distinct and startling vision of the trench-coated man.

Oh, hell no!

I can’t do anymore scary shit today!

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur to her. “I’m just so sorry.”

But I can’t stay here and die without a fight.

A wheezing sound hisses from her lungs, as she tries to clear her throat enough to talk.

“Rrr…”

With no time to think or to wait for Trench Coat to catch me, I pivot and throw my body forward and away from Dr. Radinsky.

Stumbling into the door she fell out of, I feel the piercing pain in my elbow from the sudden movement.

The man takes a step toward me, as I stay cemented in my place. But I can’t stay still for long. The floor he continues to walk on looks like rolling waves. He’s floating.

Or surfing…

He removes his rain hat, tossing it to the side, and it is then that I confirm that he is who I think he is and my vision isn’t blurry anymore.

“Hello, Penny,” his deep, ugly voice booms from his throat.

The blinders are off.

The air has cleared.

And…

Mark Tanner is here to get me, and he won’t stop until I’m destroyed.

So I run.

And I run.

---