Page 41 of Dark Desires

I had to tell him that I didn't have a concrete plan, but I didn't not have a plan, which apparently was all he needed to hear. The meeting was brief, and the man himself wasn’t very memorable, to the point where talking to him almost felt like it was a dream.

Maybe that’s the adrenaline. I’m still reeling from the accident. And from getting myself committed.

I try to recall seeing him as footsteps approach me. I open my eyes again and my gaze flits between Dr. Shah and Dr. Williams, who stand together at the foot of my bed again.

“Trine,“ Dr. Shah says.

“Hi,“ I say, flashing her a smile. “What’s going on?“

She looks at Dr. Williams, who is tall and surprisingly young, but whose features I can't really make out for some reason. As if there’s a cloud of smoke in front of him. He’s blurry, and it makes no sense. I try to blink what feels like tears away from my eyes, but I can’t do it. They’re dry.

I can see Dr. Shah perfectly well.

I wonder if it's the effect of the medication that's making it hard for me to see him properly, since it’s obviously not tears.

Shah approaches me. “We decided that you need further mental health evaluation,“ she says. “The state has deemed that you might be a danger to yourself or to others, so for the next 72 hours, you're going to be in a secure facility without access to your phone and without the ability to contact people outside the facility.“

“Wait,“ I say. “Is that necessary?“

“We think so, yes,“ Dr. Williams says.

I want to turn my head to look at him, but something about doing that makes my entire body hurt, and I end up looking ahead instead, at the gap between the two doctors talking to me right now.

“Is it something I said?“ I ask.

“We’re worried about you,“ Dr. Shah says.

I lick my lips, which are dry. Where the fuck is my water? I’m so thirsty. “Is that 72-hour suicide watch?“

“Yes,“ Dr. Williams says. He takes a step towards me, and suddenly his face becomes a little bit clearer. It's still somewhat blurry, but at least I can see the color of his eyes now.

They’re green. Bright green.

He has a smattering of freckles right over the bridge of his nose, but his features are still impossible to discern.

He looks so familiar. What the fuck? Why is he so familiar? I shouldn’t know this man at all. He’s just a doctor in this hospital, in a town I haven’t been to in years.

“We won’t transport you in an ambulance, but it will be medical transport,“ Williams says. “Dr. Shah will be in charge of telling your family, which she will do once you’re transported to a secure mental health facility.“

“Wait. Can I not tell them?“

“No,“ he says. “At this moment, it is best you don't talk to them until you get out.“

I didn't expect to hear that. It makes my heart sink. Suddenly, this all does seem like a terrible idea, and I need to stand up and at least tell the exorcists. I don’t want them to worry about me, not after everything that’s happened.

“Wait, I want to talk to them. Let me talk to them before I go, please,“ I say. I swing my legs so that I can stand up and walk away, but I don’t have enough strength for that yet. Whatever sedative I’ve been given, this shit is fucking strong. The nurse moves toward me like she’s going to stop me, and I realize my plan worked a little too perfectly.

Right now, I’m a prisoner.

But at least the exorcists will be safe from me.

“No. Sorry. As long as you're under the care of the state, you won't be able to speak to them,“ Dr. Shah says. “The mental health coordinator of the facility you’re going to will be able to help you.“

I try to get out of bed. It's pointless, I'm hooked up to everything, and I’m not in a position to do anything, and I remind myself that this was what I wanted in the first place. I wanted her to do this.

I’m starting to get upset, though.

I should’ve planned this better. I should’ve thought this through. It’s important that I protect them from me—I don’t want them to get hurt. But I hate that I can’t even look into their eyes before I’m yanked away from my life for three days, essentially isolated from everyone I care about.

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