Page 119 of Unspoken Lies
“I’m well aware of my faults,” I mutter. “You can remind me of them all.”
This time, when she pushes me away, I let her.
“I don’t know how to feel around you,” she sighs. “I’m exhausted and this isn’t the time to bring up the ghosts of our mistakes.”
“Then when?” I ask Rachelle, but her feet are already taking her away from me.
“When I don’t feel like you took everything from me,” she whispers.
Fuck. Knowing I won’t be able to get more than this from her, I follow her down the stairs.
I don’t like to fail. All I can do is show her I’m not the person that she clearly must see when she looks at me. A murderer who stepped on her to get what he wanted.
Fear, selfishness, and desperation led to the worst decision of my life.
CHAPTER 28
RACHELLE
I’m shaking on the inside after my encounter with Elijah, which makes me quieter as Theo drives us to the club. I can understand Elijah’s feeling that he was trapped, but I’ve never once wanted to sacrifice someone else to escape.
I don’t know if that says more about his sense of self-preservation or mine. The Kings Society offered them a life raft, but they had to ride on my back for their safety.
I am disassociating from everything as I walk into the club with them. I feel as if I’m floating away, and I’m completely untethered. I know a part of me is overstimulated from being out and about, and this is how it’s manifesting instead of a panic attack.
“Rachel?” Jared asks, and I feel as if he may have been trying to get my attention. There’s not a drop of annoyance in his tone, just concern.
“Yeah,” I breathe, feeling a little lightheaded as I force myself to focus.
“This is Dr. Parker. He’s the club’s psychiatrist. He meets with anyone who wants to gain membership to the dungeon,” he explains. “Due to the exchange of power and submission that can be had in our club, we want to ensure the safety of our patrons. This is one way we’ve found to achieve that.”
“Hmm,” I murmur. “I suppose that lessens your liability if something goes wrong.”
“We also have cameras everywhere,” Dr. Parker says reassuringly. “You don’t care about our setup, so it’s silly to pretend that you do right now. Would you feel comfortable sitting with me in my office?”
“I have a distinctive distrust for mental health professionals,” I mutter. “I would prefer that the door remain open and we just go over my medication needs.”
“Alright then,” he says, looking surprised. “Right this way, please.”
Elijah stiffens as he watches me walk away. He knows exactly why I’m uncomfortable with anyone who has the ability to lock me up again. My hands are beginning to sweat, and I feel uncomfortably hot. My body is trying to freak out.
Breathing in and out evenly is difficult as I walk away from the guys. My feelings are conflicting for them, because while they almost killed me two years ago, they’ve also done so much to save me.
I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone.
“It’s just in here,” Dr. Parker murmurs.
“The door stays open,” I remind him as I carefully step inside.
I don’t care how telling it is, I find a chair against a wall where I can see the door and sit on the edge.
“You seem very nervous,” he says as he walks to his desk.
“I have every reason to be,” I reply. “I’ve been off my medication for several weeks, which means it’s out of my system. White knuckling it and hoping for the best isn’t going to work for me.”
“That honestly sounds terrible,” he says. “Tell me what you’re experiencing.”
“Depression and anxiety. I have a fear of leaving the house, but I can do it if I’m walking with someone I know,” I explain.
