Beauty In Her Madness (Winterland Tale #3) - Stacey Marie Brown Page 0,62
at Scott’s function.
“Yeah?” I shifted on the sofa, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“You seem especially distracted today. Anything you want to share with me?”
A snorted huff blew from my nose. Just my life breaking apart—no big deal.
“It’s why I’m here. No judgment. I’m here to help you. To help guide you.”
People say that, but it was the biggest lie of all. We all cast judgment, especially on ourselves. Her statement shot my eyes up to her. A wave of déjà vu brushed my mind, the feeling she had said this to me before. An image of her sitting across from me in the café flickered in my head, sharp and clear, her hair styled back, wearing a black coat with fur trimming the collar, a rose pin on the lapel. But when I tried to recall more, it slipped back into the murkiness of that day.
“You all right?”
I rubbed at my head. “Just strange.”
“What is?”
“We didn’t see each other at a café a few days ago, did we?”
“No.” She folded her hand, peering at me skeptically. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know.” My fingers pinched at my temple. “Something flashed into my brain like you were there.”
“This was the day of your episode, right? The day you were taken to the hospital for your hallucinations?”
“Yes.” My cheeks flushed with humiliation.
“You probably imagined me there. Perhaps as a touchstone. Like a safe space.”
I nodded in agreement, but my stomach twisted, not letting go of the inkling that something felt off. The unease and doubt. I recalled the fur-trimmed black coat she was wearing, though I had never seen her in it.
“Can you tell me what you saw in your hallucination?”
My teeth locked down, the instinct not to tell her overpowering me, turning me back to the window.
“I can’t help you, Dinah, unless you open up to me.”
It was the reason I was here. I needed to get help. The disappointment, embarrassment, and grief I was causing my parents and Scott was unacceptable. I had to force myself to try. Nails dug into my palms, and I blew out a heavy breath, rolling my shoulders back.
“It’s a monster I’ve had dreams about since I was a child. They went away for a while, but now they’re back.”
“What does this monster look like?”
“I don’t know. It’s always in the shadows. Hunting me. It feels…” I licked at my lips. “It feels like it’s coming for revenge or something.”
“Revenge?” Her eyebrow popped over the rim of her glasses. “What makes you think that?”
“A feeling.” My hand curled into my stomach. “Like I’ve done something wrong.”
“Wrong? Like what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I still feel I did.”
“Let’s try to remember. Close your eyes.” She leaned forward, waiting until my lids shut. “Dig deeper into your memory.”
I tried to think back to the monster plaguing my dreams, but I couldn’t latch on to anything substantial.
“Focus on your feelings; dig past the fear. What did you do?”
Relaxing, I tried to concentrate, the fluttering of guilt stirring in my belly—a deep understanding. I knew why it was coming for me, but couldn’t recall what I did.
“I can’t remember.”
“Try. Harder.” Her voice was tinged with frustration. “If you feel guilty, then you did something. How?”
“It’s only a dream.”
“It obviously represents something to you. Figuring this out could help you,” she responded. “You said you did something to it…”
My head started to pound, exhaustion crackling irritation up the back of my neck. “I’m too tired.”
“No. Think, Dinah!” Her demand popped open my eyes, my defenses going up. “Tell me, how did you do it?”
Do it? “Do what?” My lids narrowed on her.
She paused, blinking at me before she got up from her chair. “We can return to this at your next visit.” She went to her desk, pulling out a pill bottle. “I am going to up your dosage.”
“What?” I stood, a knot forming in my stomach.
“Clearly the current dosage is not working.” She walked back over to me, handing me the bottle. “This is a higher dose. Take two in the morning and two at dinner.”
I stared at the bottle, wanting to hand it back to her.
“They will help you, Dinah.” She closed my hand around the bottle. “It’s what you want, right? To get better?”
I nodded.
She picked up a glass of water from the table. “Start now. Show me you are ready to take this journey to getting healthy again.”
Numbly, I twisted off the cap, dumping two white pills into my palm. But something kept