Page 126 of Doubts & Fears

“She was shy, kind, and easily frightened, but she could also be bold and unafraid. She wasn’t ever scared of heights. Her papa taught her not to be. And her mama taught her how to use her voice and express herself.”

She paused, looking up to see if she should continue. “Go on,” I prompted, and she nodded.

“She would walk hand in hand confidently with Pasha onto a stage with a huge audience and not be frightened at all. She could dangle hundreds of feet off the ground, held by Pasha’s feet, and feel like she was flying. Mischa was strong, even when she didn’t think she was.”

Chapter 40

Marcel

Can I Tell You a Secret?

Iimmediately saw the switch. She was done telling me about how good Mischa was, and now it was time to talk about the bad. I held my breath and steeled my face as she raised her eyes to meet mine.

“Mischa was also a bad girl. She didn’t listen very well and was very forgetful. She was stupid, and she couldn’t follow simple rules. Rules that others could follow very easily, but never Mischa. She was selfish, wanting things she shouldn’t. She caused so much pain. She made others experience horrifying things because she couldn’t follow directions and rules. She had a hard time learning lessons too.”

The tears streaming down her face were so real. I swallowed and cleared my throat. I wanted to tell her to continue, but I wanted her to stop at the same time. Her pain was so visceral.

“Go on, Ms. Taylor.”

“Mischa should never have been born. She didn’t deserve to live, and so it was for the best that she died. Don’t you see that now? She’s the reason why her parents died. They would never have been on that road that night if she weren’t so selfish.” She paused, wiping away her tears.

Finally, we were getting somewhere. This was huge, and I had to temper myself. I wanted to ask her a hundred questions.

Then, in a quiet voice, she said, “Sir, can I tell you a secret? One I’ve never told another soul?”

My heart hammered in my chest. “I would be honored.” I didn’t care that she could potentially see me if she looked up. I downed my brandy and poured myself another.

“Promise you won’t hate me?” This time, a loud sob escaped her little lips. When her eyes met mine, I froze, clearing my throat before I responded.

“I promise,” I said, trying to gather my own emotions and put themin check.

“Mischa’s selfishness not only killed her parents but also her baby sister, which was still growing inside of her mama’s tummy. Mischa got what she deserved. That’s how I got the name Kinsley. My mama told me she was going to name my sister Kinsley Anya Marie. My secret is, I took her name so she could live. I thought it was the right thing to do since Mischa took her life.”

Her admission made me lightheaded, and my heart hurt hearing her secret. The very thought that when given the chance to live again, she honored her sister in some small way broke me.

It further confused me, though, because all this time, we thought Owen changed her name to hide her. But nothing would prepare me for what she said next.

“Mischa’s papa, mama, and unborn sister were put in boxes and put into the ground, and so was Mischa.” She lowered her head again, and heart-wrenching sobs broke free.

I froze. She couldn’t have meant literally; she was sitting here in front of me. Was she referencing the child that was supposed to be her? That was a whole other conversation. But for now, my mind whirled. What in the fuck actually happened?

“Figuratively, Mischa was put into the ground.”

She shook her head, her eyes once more finding mine.

“Literally, Sir. I swear it’s true, but sometime later, the man changed his mind and dug her up, and it was the start of a second chance.”

My mind screamed to ask her who the man was. It had to have been Owen. But why the intense love for him, then? I had several patients like this who often overshared when feeling vulnerable. Most times, these were things they might not have wanted known. If pushed, it would break them from that spell. This was one of those times.

So instead, I asked, “Is that when Kinsley was born?”

“No, Sir. Kinsley wouldn’t come to be for a long while. I don’t know how much time, though. Because like I said, I can’t remember time the way I can now. Can I use my safeword? My head really hurts,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her little face.

“Say it, please, Ms. Taylor,” I prompted her.

“Kras…Krasnyy.” She trembled and drew herself up as if she was afraid she’d disappointed me.

“Good girl. Can I tell you how proud I am of you at this moment?”

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