Page 91 of Mistaken Identity
He was a highly trained individual who had skills that I couldn’t even begin to imagine.
Having him on my side in this…
“I’ll call him next,” I said. “Anything else?”
“No.” He paused. “Want me to get rid of this psychologist for you?”
“How?” I asked.
“I have skills you can’t even begin to imagine. And what’s the point of being in office if I can’t milk my position?”
I snorted. “How long you planning on being in that position?”
His voice got dark. “Until I dig out the parasite that thought it would be good to help hold my son hostage for so long.”
“Let me know if I can help,” I murmured.
He made a sound in his throat. “I’m close, man. I’m close.”
“I’m here,” I repeated. “Anytime.”
“Thanks,” he said softly. “Your boy’s standing around the corner listening now. While you talk to him, I’m going to ruin his life. But only after I make that call to Shasha.”
I snorted. “Have fun, Apollo.”
He hung up, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket before I headed back into the room with my mother, ignoring the dumbass around the corner that thought he was so slick.
I didn’t look at her as I sat down and stared directly at Beatrice. “What’s your credentials again?”
Beatrice frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are your credentials. What type of schooling do you have?” I pushed.
Beatrice went white.
I stood up and turned to look at my mom, trying not to stare at the gaping hole where her mouth had once been. “I’m not sure who recommended these douchebags to you, but they’re bullshit. This one isn’t even a therapist. Find someone else. Don’t ask me to come next time, though. There’s only so much of your poor, pitiful life I can stand thinking about. You have a mental health disorder. You need to take medications. It’s time to stop denying that and fix your life. Or what’s left of it.”
My mother made a sound in her throat that had me hesitating, but only because I remembered that same sound coming out of her throat the day I’d walked out of the door with my dad and told her I wasn’t moving back.
The next day was the day that I’d found her with half her face missing.
I stopped, turned, and said, “Don’t try to do what you did again. Next time, I won’t be here to save you.”
With that parting comment, I headed out and didn’t stop to look back.
I was unsurprised to find the hallway empty.
I did, however, stop at the front office and lodged a complaint about the good Dr. Stoker and his trusty sidekick sister.
Only after hearing that they would be doing something about it did I leave.
The first person I called was, of course, the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.
She answered with a breathy, “Hello?”
“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.
She cleared her throat and said, “It’s a surprise.”
