Unreadable.
Not that I have much to base my opinion on, but Damien was like an open book. One look at his face and I knew what he was thinking. Or how he was feeling. Thinking of him takes me to dark places and I turn my head away from Dr. Watson and close my eyes. In a strange way this man reminds me of Damien.
And re-opening that wound is painful.
Now I'd prefer that I be taken back to Oakhill.
They can take me to the basement.
They can fry my brain.
Because I know that's the only way I'll be able to forget everything.
I exhale in defeat and stare at Dr. Watson, deadpan. “When are they coming for me?”
Dr. Watson closes his eyes for a second, and runs a hand along his chiseled jawline. He has a fresh patch of stubble and I have the urge to fan my fingers across it. I clasp my hands together to keep from acting on the urge. When he opens his eyes there's something different about them. It's almost like there's a spark of some kind in them. It flashes brilliantly. And I think it's... it's...regret. “They're not,” he says slowly.
“What?” I almost squeak. “You didn't turn me in to them. Why?”
He stands, pacing in front of me. “I don't know.” He stops mid-pace and extends a hand to me. When I try to stand he leans over and puts both hands on my shoulders, helping me to my feet. “That's not something I normally do.”
“What isn't something you'd normally do?”
“I don't break protocol to lie for a patient.” He helps me over to my bed, puts the cords back on my chest, then pulls the sheet up to my elbows.
“You're a man of rules then?” I try to get a good look at his face, but his chin is down. It's like not looking into my eyes is his suit of armor. He doesn't seem like the type that likes to get too personal.
“In some way yes,” he answers informatively. “Mostly, I'm a man of order and I don't like when that order becomes unbalanced. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Dr. Watson.”
“Good. Now get some rest.” I fight the urge to ask him if that was an order and simply lie back on my pillow. Dr. Watson continues, “You've got some fight in you. That's an admirable quality. If I was hit by a car, and sustained the amount of injuries you have, I don't think I'd be up and on my feet so quickly.”
Hit by a car?
So that's what the bright lights were.
I mean I should have suspected it because I knew I was on a road, but then again I was delirious from not having any food, water, or proper sleep. I almost smile when I think of the compliment Dr. Watson just gave me. Damien always told me I was a strong person, but Daddy's words that haunted me never allowed me to believe him. Damien was right. I'm a lot stronger than I give myself credit for.
With a turn on his heel, he starts for the door. “Dr. Watson,” I call out. He stops and glances at me from over his shoulder. “For what it's worth, thank you.”
He doesn't answer, only nods.
“I'm not sure if the police told you what happened to me or not, but—”
“It's none of my business, Adelaide,” he says cutting me off. He walks to the door, puts his hand on the knob and pulls it open slightly. “But it is my business to make sure that you're recovered before you leave.”
Then he exits, leaving me alone to drown in my own thoughts.
Chapter Fourteen
~Before~
I don't like Dr. Matthew Morrow.
At all.
I see him from time to time for private therapeutic sessions and I know that lurking behind that placid, face smile of his is a monster.