Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

My inner circle of trust was dwindling fast. In fact, I doubt you could call one person a circle. The only person I could trust was me.

“They only told me after we booked this appointment. They want to help you. They want us to help you. We can only do that if we have all the facts. Do you see things? Do you hear voices?”

All the fucking time.

“No. I didn’t see something that wasn’t there, if that’s what you’re implying.” I left it at that. I doubted he’d take my other sightings of Mathers seriously.

“I think you’re giving this man way too much power over you,” he said, looking at me with kindness in his eyes. “The key to healing is letting go of some of that anger you’re bottling up. I’m not saying that’ll happen overnight, but we can help you with that, with intensive counselling.”

Nobody had power over me. Least of all Brandon fucking Mathers. I’d never bow down. No matter how much he taunted me.

“Why would I want to let go of the anger? It’s all I’ve got.”

“Because it’s hurting you way more than it’ll ever hurt him.” He sighed. “I have read a little about what happened to Brodie. I also know the police aren’t pressing charges. It’s being recorded as accidental death, is that right?”

“That’s bullshit. The whole brain aneurysm and Brodie tripping himself, it’s all complete and utter bullshit. I know what I saw.”

“And no one is trying to take that away from you. What we want is to get you well. And you’re not well, Harper. For the next few months, we need to make your mental health the main focus. You are the most important person in all of this. Not him. Not the murderer. You. Do you think wherever he is now that he’s thinking about you?”

I knew he was.

“No, he’s not,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “He’s living his life. We need to find a way back so that you can do the same.”

This guy was clueless, but I knew I wasn’t being heard. I was getting nowhere fast.

“I will go to counselling,” I said to get him off my back. “My mum is seeing Doctor O’Neill. I’ve already told her I’ll go and see her too.” I wouldn’t, but I wasn’t about to let him book me in with one of their quacks.

“Ah, Meredith. We know her. She’s one of the best.”

Fucking great. Now I had to hope he didn’t contact her asking for updates. Mind you, he did say he’d need my permission to talk about me.

“I know,” I answered, giving him a fake smile of hope. “I also have a few leaflets my friend gave me.” I grabbed Emily’s brochures out of my bag to show him, feeling proud that I had something with me to make it look like I was trying to jump his hurdles. “These really help too.”

“That’s very good, Harper. Great that you have a friend who’s supporting you and finding these avenues of support for you. Have you rung any of them? Made any appointments?”

“No. I have been online. I went on the chatrooms… On this one.” I showed him the pamphlet. “The people on there seemed nice. Genuine.”

“That’s… great. But you need to be careful. Some of these chatrooms aren’t as safe as they seem. People online are different to how they would be in real life.”

Here we go again.

“I know. I’m not a kid. We teach about e-safety in school. I’m not about to start typing in my personal details or arranging to meet up with anyone. I do have a neutral username. I know what I’m doing.” I shoved the leaflets back into my handbag, feeling embarrassed that I’d opened up and shown them to him.

“But that’s the problem,” he said. “In grief, often we don’t know what we’re doing. We can’t make good judgement calls and we act out of character. You’re vulnerable right now and I’d hate to see someone take advantage.”

“I know I need to be on my guard. I only went online to read the chats. They’re funny. They made me laugh.” I was seconds away from standing up and leaving. I didn’t need to justify myself or my actions to this man.

“Well, that’s good. As long as you keep it that way, you shouldn’t have to worry.”

I frowned. Why would a charity set up to help people dealing with bereavement have chatrooms that were unsafe? Surely someone policed them. I asked him that very question, feeling like I needed to vindicate myself.

“I’m sure they do. But my priority is your wellbeing, so I’m always going to tell you to exercise caution. Maybe get out with real friends more. Being with other people, getting outside, is far more beneficial to your mental health than any online community. Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

I didn’t agree. I had no friends to call on. Plus, that forum had made me laugh for the first time in weeks. If I wanted to go on there and ask them how to make a bloody bomb to blow up Sandland, I would. No one would tell me what to do. This was my life. I would live it how I wanted. And after the past few weeks, I wanted to live it for Brodie. To do the things he couldn’t. I knew what he’d do if he was still here, and it wouldn’t be pissing about in a counsellor’s office or chatting with fake friends over coffee.

Thirty minutes later, and I was sprinting out of that counsellor’s office like my life depended on it. I couldn’t escape fast enough. The air in the building was stifling, and it wasn’t to do with their lack of air conditioning. I’d had about all I could manage for one day.

I stomped over to my car parked towards the back of their cramped car park and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw it.