Page 23 of Heart of a Killer

I’m sure she’s thinking we have something going on, which is precisely what Leland is trying to do. I hate him sometimes. My jaw flexes. The way he plays games with other people is acceptable, but with Skylar and me, it’s just mean. I’m mad at her and want her to know it, but I don’t want her to think I was doing the same with Leland. Then she won’t know what I am angry about.

There’s a crinkling as Leland sifts around in his pocket and pulls out a pack of Pop-Tarts. He grabs Skylar’s bowl and trades her with the processed food wrapped in foil. A fucking Pop-Tart. My muscles are tense, and my fingers flex.

“Oh, thank you, Leland. That’s so sweet of you.”

And with that, my reserve cracks. I’m up before I even realize it. Kicking my chair in, I storm out. This isn’t the way I wanted this to go. I wanted her to fray and tear at the seams, but instead, Leland flips the whole situation around, seeming to be the good guy.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

An orderly grabs me by the elbow at the cafeteria entrance, and I yank my arm from his grasp. My teeth grind together, and I retort, “The bathroom.”

“Okay, Brieanna, but it’s about therapy time, so make it quick.”

My vision blurs, and I continue to the bathroom, quickening my pace, not wanting anyone to see the tears leaking from my eyes. Why the fuck do I care? The only reason I can think why this bothers me so much is that I effectively gave up Amanda for Skylar. Then, when I go to find her and make up for the rejection, I see her in Leland’s arms.

The humidity from the shower lingers in the air, coating my skin with dew and making me feel sticky. Once in front of a bathroom sink, I look in the mirror with my red-rimmed eyes. My lips are drawn up in a sneer, and the muscles in my jaw clench and unclench. My teeth grind as I attempt to control my racing pulse and the fire burning within. I’m more pissed at myself for caring. Turning on the cold water, I splash some on my face. The coolness penetrates the soreness surrounding my eyes, so the redness subsides a bit before I head to therapy. Once I’m done, I dry off and leave.

The walk to the doctor’s office seems never-ending. The deserted halls leave me empty after finally calming down from the storm swirling inside me.

At Dr. Benjamin’s door, I stare at the swirls in the wooden door, breathing and flexing my hands. There’s still a slight burn from where bruises have formed on the sides of my knuckles and palms. The sharp pricks of pain with each squeeze serve as a reminder. I’m still standing there when the door opens to his bright, smiling face.

“Brieanna, I thought you were skipping our appointment. You know you can just come in. You don’t have to wait on me to let you in.”

“I know,” I mumble as my shoulders fall. The tension I was holding there dissipates in his presence.

“Well, come in, and we can talk.”

I lie down on the lounge chair. My arms are crossed over my chest, hiding my hands in my armpits. I don’t want Dr. Benjamin to see the mutilation I caused. He sits in his chair across from me and prepares his notepad.

“Brieanna, what is on your mind today?”

Do I tell him? I don’t want to necessarily feel better with more medications. I want these swirls of emotions to resolve on their own. Instead of telling him what’s really wrong, I give him a half-truth.

“Amanda is on my mind again.”

“What about Amanda are you thinking about?”

He doesn’t know that I was the first one to find her or that I saw her hanging in her room, but he knows that we were close. Her death affected me emotionally. I shut down for a few weeks. It was only after Leland got here that I returned to myself again. He showed me that it was okay to be me. That I wouldn’t be judged. I was safe. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be in my catatonic state, doped up on medication that suffocated my feelings.

Not wanting to return to that state of numbness, I give him a happy memory.

“Just memories of her dancing and laughing. How she would always put a smile on my face. I am—dunno. I—I just miss her,” I stammer. At times, I wish I had more of Amanda’s free spirit and the wisdom she would share with me.

“What brought on this memory of her?”

“I’m not sure.” I attempt to shrug him off.

“Could it be that you are getting closer to Skylar?”

My muscles tense at the mention of Skylar, and my leg bounces. Does he keep tabs on us? That’s not an area I don’t want to pierce unless there’s blood involved. I know that’s the point of therapy, but I don’t want to talk about me and Skylar or how I’m feeling about it right now. I need the tornado inside my heart to settle first.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I said no,” I snap, with a crack in my voice.

Sitting up in the chair, I’m rearing to storm out of here, but I can’t, or the doctor will have one of the orderlies sedate me. I grab onto the edge of my seat, allowing the pain to spark some sense into me.

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