Page 86 of Cruel Malady: A Necrosis of the Mind

It’s the fear of what I’m capable of. If I continue on this course, I could become just like him.

A flash of Ericson’s pained face. The switchblade in my hand. The red covering my palms.

“No. I don’t believe you’re fearful of him,” London says, breaking into my thoughts. “But fear, true fear you’ve never experienced before, felt on such a visceral level… Well, it can make you unpredictable. And for a person who has only ever experienced shallow affect, who has always been in control of their low range emotions, I think that unpredictability frightens you more than you may admit to yourself.”

I’m silent for a long moment, the sounds of the city drifting in through the cracked terrace doors. There’s a whole world out there full of emotion and sensation and it feels overwhelming. If I don’t confront Alex, if he doesn’t correct what he’s done…

“I’m scared I’ll lock myself away,” I blurt. “That if I go on like this, I won’t be able to cope, that it will continue to become too much. That I’ll just go mad.”

“However it came to be, you’re a different creature now. You have to learn to embrace your emotions. That’s the only way.”

I reach for my wine and take a lingering sip. “Dulling them helps a little.”

Her smile is genuine. “As does masking them with one of the easiest feelings to master. Hatred.”

At her intense stare, I set the glass down and fold my hands in my lap. “I do hate him,” I say, my voice laced with steely venom. “I’ve never hated another person before in my life. Well, except for Kyle Sellars. A bully from grade school.”

“And how did you handle him?” she probes.

I cock my head. “I buried his face in an ant bed.”

London nods slowly. “A psychopath with violent tendencies,” she remarks, but it’s the curious gleam in her gaze that sets my nerves on edge. “Interesting.”

“Self-defense,” I say, in way of explanation. I’ve never felt the need to explain my actions before.

“Self-preservation is also why you’re here. It will be very interesting to see how you handle Alex.”

I swipe the back of my hand across my forehead, the wine heating my skin. “Out of curiosity, how would Grayson go about handling Alex?”

London wets her lips, and I swear there’s a spark in her golden eyes. She’s more than professionally intrigued with her patient; she’s fascinated by him. “He would subject him to his own course of treatment.” She tilts her head, her gaze never leaving mine. “But that’s only if Alex proved to be deserving of such a punishment.”

I don’t know why I say it; I’ve never sought approval from anyone in my life. But for some reason, I want this woman to understand what I have to do and why.

“He’s a killer. I wasn’t his first subject.”

“I see.” She laces her fingers together on her lap. “That is unfortunate.”

“As demented as this may come across, I wish Grayson was around to reap vigilante justice on Alex.”

“One should always be careful what they wish for.” Her eyes flash. “If Grayson was around, my patient would probably approve of your pursuit. He would find it…distasteful to interfere. As long as you were successful, he’d have no reason to hunt Dr. Chambers.”

“Once upon a time, vengeance was my ethos. I plan to be successful.”

“Then, all I can offer you is my hope that you find what you need. Oh, and this.” She stands and grabs her bag from the table, then places her business card on the sofa arm near me. “My personal line is on the back. Should you change your mind about engaging in sessions. I really am interested in working with you, Blakely.”

There’s a weighted beat where I stare at her card, at her slender fingers next to it, as if she’s waiting for me to accept the invitation. My gaze lingers on the faded ink of a tattooed key along the side of her palm before she pulls her hand away.

“Thank you for all your help, London.” I cast a look upward to meet her eyes once more.

Her smile seems sincere.

As she heads toward the door, I cross to the terrace and gaze out over the city. I pull Alex’s broken watch from my pocket and rub the smooth pewter surface, a strange sensation unfurling through me as I hear London leave the hotel room. I never mentioned Alex’s last name. Yet, near the end of our conversation, she referred to him as Dr. Chambers.

I’m not sure what that means, but it unspools a thread of apprehension between us.

I click the watch closed.

Despite my wariness, London knows her psychopaths. If I’m to trust her observation, then I don’t need to waste any more time searching for Alex.

---