After he gave her more medicine for her pain, he calmly fed her breakfast while she sat quietly between his knees, accepting all he had to give her.

Chapter Eight

Day 9:

Dr. Sloan doesn’t ask me why I’m crying and I assume it’s because she figures she knows. I would rather she ask me. “I know what you’re thinking,” I say, but it sounds like an accusation.

Dr. Sloan clears her throat, “What am I thinking?”

“That Caleb is awful, that he’s cruel and I’m stupid for loving him.”

She shakes her head, somewhat wryly and responds in a way I perceive as clinical, “I don’t think you’re stupid at all. If anything, I think you’re extraordinarily brave.”

I scoff. “Right. I’m brave. Reed said the same thing.”

I hear the scratching of her pen as she makes more notes, “Well then, you have a second opinion now. You don’t think your actions were brave?”

“Not especially. I think I just did what I had to do. Caleb’s always saying a person has to do what they must in order to survive. Survival is the only thing that matters.”

“You don’t think surviving is brave?”

“I don’t know. Do you think that guy who cut off his arm because he was trapped by a boulder was brave? It’s just instinct.”

“It’s called fight or flight and one is certainly braver than the other, depending on the circumstances. Under your circumstances, what you did was very brave. You’re here, Olivia. You survived.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that. I don’t like it.”

“Would you prefer, Miss Ruiz? Agent Reed says you don’t mind that as much.”

“Yeah? What else did he say about me?”

She smiles coyly and suddenly I find myself suspicious of their relationship. I don’t like the fact they talk about me. “We’re required to discuss the case, Miss Ruiz. We exchange all notes and information as well as any insights we might have. I did tell you all of this.”

“I know. What did he say about me?” I have a strange curiosity about Reed that hasn’t abated. I don’t know what it is about him, but there’s definitely something.

“He said you’re a brat,” she says, but her eyes smile. I smile a little too. Reed didn’t say that at all.

“Back to the subject. Why don’t you think you’re brave?”

I sigh, “I don’t know. I guess…I’m here and that’s what Caleb wants.” An uncomfortable silence settles between us. I’m lost in my thoughts. What, Caleb, wants. I thought I did everything he wanted, I tried my very best to make him happy, but in the end…I guess it doesn’t matter.

“You keep referring to him in the present tense, why?”

I can see his face in my mind’s eye, so beautiful, so sad. There’s blood smudged across his cheek, but I don’t care. I’m not squeamish any more. It’s the face of the man I love, the only one I’ve ever loved and it’s difficult to imagine there will ever be another. I wipe more tears away. That bastard. “It’s easier,” I finally answer, “I don’t like the idea he’s gone.”

Sloan nods. “Go ahead, tell me what happened next.”

“Nothing much really, after breakfast he helped me get dressed. Then he tied me to the bed, gagged me, and left for a few hours.” I know where he went now – he went to the bank, but I don’t know if I should tell Sloan or not. Then again, Reed already knows about the money. “He went to the bank,” I add. Sloan flips through her paperwork and writes something down.

“Why isn’t Reed here? Why the both of you at different times?”

“Agent Reed and I have different job descriptions. He’s interested in the case; I’m interested in your well-being as well as the case.”

“So he doesn’t give a shit about what happens to me, is what you’re saying.” I’m not shocked by the information; it’s something I already knew to be true, but still, it stings to hear it from someone else.

“I didn’t say that. Please don’t put words in my mouth,” Sloan says. I think I’ve made her uncomfortable, but I can’t say for what reason. “Agent Reed says you kissed him?”

My eyes open wide and my mouth is slightly agape. I can’t believe he told her! Why would he do that! “So!?!” My face is heating up, and I’m positive it stems in equal parts from anger and embarrassment.

This is a side of Sloan I haven’t seen yet, her brow is arched and her mouth is a little tight at the corners. “I’m not your enemy. Please stop acting like I am. He told me because he’s concerned for you and the only reason I bring it up is because you were just telling me he doesn’t care about you.”

“Fine! I kissed him.” I look away from Sloan and toward the windows. Only Reed uses the kindergarten interrogation room to talk to me. I probably make him nervous. Good.

“Why?”

“Because he had something I wanted.” The words fall right out of my mouth and although I know the picture they paint of me, I can’t say I care. I’m fixated on the pigeon walking back and forth outside my window. I’m envious of the pigeon. It doesn’t have a care in the world beyond eating, sleeping, and defecating on park statues. That’s the life.

“Is that the only reason?” She’s trying to keep her words innocent, but I know nothing she says is innocent, not even her stories about interpretive taxidermy. It would be easy to forget Sloan is a member of the FBI and she’s trained to handle cases like mine. She comes off as very empathetic, and even a little vulnerable herself, but she wouldn’t be where she is today if she weren’t a wolf under that wool suit.

My head swivels toward her and away from the window. I make myself smile brazenly, “Are you jealous, Janice?”

She doesn’t miss a beat, “Of what, Olivia?” I smile again and this time there’s an answering smile on her face. Yeah, Sloan has teeth. I like teeth.

We go back and forth for several minutes. She asks me a question and I turn it around to pose the same question of her and she turns it back on me again. It would seem like useless conversation, but I think we’re both learning little things about one another with each exchange. Still, I’d rather be talking to Reed. I tell Sloan as much.

“That isn’t unusual, you know. Some victims of abuse tend to gravitate toward strong, authoritative men…like Agent Reed. They also tend to mimic the behavior expected of them by their abusers, especially when that behavior is of a sexual nature.”

I feel like she’s just doused me in hot oil. “Don’t. Don’t do that bullshit psychotherapy crap on me. It was a fucking kiss, not a pledge of my undying devotion. And for the record, I’m not some broken rape victim you have to put back together. I’m fine.” I’m crying again and I hate myself for it. Why won’t my face stop leaking!

“I’m sorry, Livvie. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Sloan says. She sounds sincere and that almost pisses me off more than her suggestion I’m some basket-case.

Aren’t you? You don’t know who you are anymore. You have no place to go from here.

“I think we’re good for today. Do you want to stop? We can go have some lunch in the cafeteria. Maybe play some cards in the rec room, or maybe checkers? I love checkers.”

“Sloan?”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing it again.” I wipe the tears off of my face and blow my nose with some tissues – funny how they’re ready and waiting by my bed.

Sloan lets out a deep sigh and leans back in her chair. Her expression is inscrutable, as though not even she knows what she is feeling, or thinking, or wanting to say. Finally though, she nods slightly to herself and opens her mouth. “I don’t think you’re broken. I don’t mean to ‘psychoanalyze’ you, well…” she laughs without humor, “at least, not out loud, but I do think there are some cracks to be filled in. You’ve been through so much in the last few months, and I’m incredibly impressed all you have are cracks. You should be broken, but you’re not. Cracks can be mended and believe it or not, you have a lot of people who want to help you mend.”