Page 67 of Dark Duet: Platinum Edition
“You don’t like it, do you? When I use your name?”
I give an infinitesimal shake of my head that isn’t really voluntary. The moment I catch myself do it, I scowl and stare down into my lap, at my handsome Caleb.
Caleb.
Don’t. Don’t think about him.
Once again, I am a fragmented person. I am divided between the soft, sentimental girl who loves Caleb at all costs and the hard, logical version of me determined to survive – even at the cost of pushing Caleb from my heart.
“Would you prefer Livvie? Your mom says everyone calls you Livvie.”
Tears sting my eyes as I look up toward Dr. Sloan. She is studiously avoiding eye contact, focusing on yet another ‘arm’ of her strange outfit.
I wonder, against my will, if my mother is here. I don’t want to see her, but…why hasn’t she come to see me? Everyone I love betrays me.
Oh, god. Caleb.
Yes, him too. Don’t think about him.
“I spoke with her a great deal yesterday; she wanted to see you,” Dr. Sloan says casually. My heart is skipping every other beat. Panic is rising, but I breathe through it. Barely. “But when I stopped by to ask if it was something you might want….” She frowns and shakes her head angrily. I know she’s thinking about Reed. “I figured I’d wait for you to tell me what you want to do.”
I nod shallowly and feel manipulated when I see her nod too. She’s getting in my fucking head and I haven’t even said anything.
Caleb says all your emotions are on your face for all to see.
Shut up and stop thinking about him. Be smart for once. Listen to me.
I sigh. Thinking about Caleb hurts, but trying to move beyond my love for him hurts more. There’s no getting past the pain. There is only a different brand of pain available for my eager consumption.
“Do you want to see your mother?”
I don’t know whether the question is real, or a threat. I carefully abstain from signaling my emotions through my body language or facial expressions. I suppose it works, because Dr. Sloan resumes her ridiculous monologue about her hobbies.
“I know what you must be thinking.”
You have no fucking idea.
“That I’m a silly woman with ridiculous hobbies.”
Or maybe you do.
“Though, you’d be surprised to learn, I’m not all free-form knitting and interpretive taxidermy. I have a dark side.”
Hmm…doubtful.
“When I’m really frustrated with things,” she giggles, “I like to get online and change things in Wikipedia!”
This bitch…isweird.
“I once made up a whole entry based on someone called the Christmas Amoeba. You see, I’m not much of a baker, and I made these holiday cookies for the people at the office. They came out horribly deformed. They tasted fine, mind you, but they were misshapen. Not a round cookie in the bunch.”
I look at her octopus sweater. I’m fairly sure nothing this woman does with her hands is meant for people to see, let alone consume.
“So I left a note next to the cookies. It was a story explaining how a small village near K2…. You know that big mountain, right?” She looks at me to make sure I’m following along.
I lie down on my bed and huff at the ceiling. Where the hell is the nurse with my drugs?
“Anyway, they made a movie about it. Not my cookies,” she cackles, so fucking amused with herself, “…the mountain. Can you imagine if they made a movie about my cookies? So, I made up this story about how this village near K2 celebrates someone called the Christmas Amoeba instead of Santa Claus. He sneaks in undetected – amoebas are microscopic, so it stands to reason someone who’s an amoeba would be very stealthy – on Christmas Eve and leaves presents for everyone. In return, the people of the village leave a variety of oddly-shaped cookies for the amoeba to eat. Amoebas come in a variety of shapes, so it makes sense.”
