Page 15 of Psycho Therapist

LEE

It was a crap shoot and I lost.

I know, I know… Going to her house. Actually claiming her right in her own bed after everything else I’d done earlier at Dr. Schmidt’s office. Leaving my own god damned car parked right out front even. What did I really expect to happen? I guess I just got…Cocky.

So sure, so certain in my own mind that because Lori is the one, that nothing, absolutely nothing could stop us from being together. My fatal mistake was falling asleep with her in my arms instead of using those same arms to keep us both out of harm’s way. I should’ve taken her away, someplace safe. Somewhere no one could reach us. And I was going to… But it looks like someone beat me to it. Someone who whether they know it or not, have made the most memorable night of my life even more memorable, but for all the wrong reasons.

Reasons I vow to uncover and set right again. I mean… There’s just no way I could live a single day without her. The idea of being put in a cell and told I can never see or have her again? That’s just not gonna happen. The cops disagree and once I’m bundled into a waiting van with zip ties cutting into my wrists and pepper spray still stinging my eyes, the taser probes still tickling and making my pecs twitch. I see a familiar face on the other side of the cage I’m shoved into.

Dr. Schmidt.

He’s perched in a seat between the cage and the driver’s side, designed for whoever’s guarding the animal they usually carry - me in this case. The thick wire mesh guaranteeing I couldn't get my hands on him even if I wanted to and they were free. His familiar, smug smile and lift of his brow should enrage me, but there’s no point struggling against the ocean of forces working against me right now.

“I was able to get myself out of the closet you stuffed me into, Mr. Larson…” He croons, making a point of running his palm over the skin on his neck where I’d grabbed him, thanking me for curing the crick in his neck.

“…Bothered me for years, and in two seconds you fixed what decades of my chiropractor couldn’t so I owe you a note of thanks for that, at least.”

I know better now than to say what I’m thinking out loud, to tell this creep anything that he can use against me, so I slouch back and go quiet. Only making the old buzzard more satisfied in some way.

“You’ll be in my care soon enough, Mr, Larson…” He goes on, setting my jaw into a permanent clench as I feel my molars grinding themselves into my gums. My hands flexing behind my back, eager to give the gut a little more work on his scrawny neck. “But before then, you'll have lots of questions and charges to answer… But the hospital is nice. Better than jail,” he assures me. Flashing a thin smile that unnerves me only because I can see now how twisted this guy really is.

He lurches forward suddenly with a gasp once the van starts to move at speed unexpectedly. The cops eager to get me well away from Lori as well as the sea of rubber-neckers and media that have all come out into the street to see what’s happening at the Finch household for the second time in the same week. Phones held high, recording everything they can like vultures.

His hands spring out and stop him from crashing face-first into the heavy mesh, but it’s close enough for me to see what he’s really frightened of when his eyes lock onto mine. Me getting free again, eager to finish what I started earlier. That’s gonna be Dr. Schmidt’s own little fear from now on and the look I feel myself giving him only proves he knows I will, given half the chance.

“…The police were quick to act, even having your face broadcast all over the late news,” Schmidt says, recovering himself and assuming his air of control, “…Nobody thought you'd be dumb enough to go back to Lori's house, but once the police tried contacting her and then got hold of her parents… Well? It was only a matter of arranging the warrants and coming to collect you… I do hope you haven't hurt the girl, Mr. Larson.” He says, making me wince before I can stop it happening.

The mention of Lori from his mouth is enough to remind me just how badly this has gone. The sense of helplessness I feel tightening in my chest only made worse by how much the doc here gets off on seeing me squirm. But I can still taste her, still smell her on me. That’s what’s gonna get me through this, I know. The need I have for her that cancels out anything else that might happen in the time before I get to bed her again.

It’s all a similar chain of events from the other night, the first night I saw Lori. Only this time the cops aren’t so friendly and even Dr. Schmidt’s presence is barely tolerated until he’s ushered away. Told he has a phone call. Then it’s just me and a few fresh-faced cops giving me the third degree in an interview room. Trying to put words into my mouth, but I stay quiet. I know I’ll have my moment and until I see my own lawyers, I’m not saying another word.

It’s a couple hours of faces so close to mine I can see their pores, shouting, scoffing and finally playing good cop, pleading with me to help them recreate what happened so they can actually charge me with something other than breaching my bail conditions.

I have to stifle a smile a few times once it hits me. Lori’s not just gonna roll over and watch them lock me away either. She’s a legal adult and everything we’ve done was more than consensual. Something I pick up on soon enough once it's clear I’m not telling the cops anything let alone trying to plead innocent for the one thing I know could never be wrong. Lori and me, that’s the most natural thing in the world and there’s no law or person who could stop it.

Okay, so there is the slight matter of me tossing a few cops out a window and breaking my strict bail conditions. But after a couple hours and a phone is thrust in front of me, the cue I can call my lawyer, I still haven’t heard a peep about any real charges because it’s like they know somehow. Just know that all they did was bust in on me and my girl.

My lawyer’s cell number is pretty much memorized and he doesn't sound surprised I broke bail and bond conditions, or that I’ve rung him in the early hours of the morning. In fact, it feels like he's been expecting my call. “Money you’ll never get back, by the way…” he casually reminds me once I explain a couple things but I couldn't care less about money. It’s Lori I want so I need to know what he’s gonna do about getting me out and soon.

“Lee,” he says firmly, “Do you think a judge is gonna let you just walk out of there asecondtime? You’ve fucked up my man, but then again if the late-late news is anything to go by-” he starts to say, stopping himself.

“What is it?” I rasp, feeling hopeful for some reason. The edge of my mouth twitching in a near smile before he even tells me. He clears his throat and with the tone of voice that reminds me why he's the best, he orders me to stay quiet and play nice until he can get down here.

“…Just don't throw anyone out a window until I get there, okay big guy?’ he says, letting me hear the smile in his voice before he hangs up. I shrug at the cops who all seem to have lost their bravado somehow. But the thickest set of the two is quick to remind me who's in charge, for now.

“…Those two men, good men you tossed out the window?” He asks, putting his sweat-stained face nearer to mine. My fingers quivering with the urge to give him a neck adjustment just like Dr. Schmidt’s.

“…They’re begging the captain not to lay charges for resisting arrest…” he continues, as if he's saying something interesting, “…But only because they want a fair fight. They want you all by yourself with them, just for a few minutes… They should be here any minute.” He smiles, showing crooked teeth with a color to match the stench.

“Can’t wait…” I drone, breaking my vow of silence but figuring if things are gonna get dirtier than they already are it doesn't seem to matter what I say now. But the next set of two men through the door isn’t expected at all by the looks. The flash of a federal badge drawing a low groan from one of the two detectives. The other one, shit lips, he’s got plenty to say.

“Aw no ya don't! This guy’s ours. And until our own investigation and interview is finished-” he tries to tell them loudly. The open doorway suddenly filled with a shorter, vintage version of the two detectives.

“…At ease, men…” The older cop clips with a sigh, casting his eyes over me, “Mr. Larson here is being moved to a ‘secure’ facility for interviewing and with his attorney present.” He adds with emphasis, shifting his eyes from me to eyeball his two subordinates.

“Out of my hands, fellas but it’s been nice knowing you, Mr. Larson… Now, Hookes? Oates? You wanna come do some actual police work? We got a double homicide just called in…”

Everyone files out with a dark look leaving me with two new faces that look as though they exhume half-rotted corpses for a living and then have to go tell the family.

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