He closes the tiny span of distance between us. “I need to see you.”
I close my eyes slowly. I stay quiet for a long beat. The atm
osphere is thick with his words and cologne. The alluring heat from his body too near mine. I allow every one of my molecules to absorb him before I push away.
“That’s the thing, Carter,” I say, bracing myself for the pain. “I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I’ve decided that I can’t counsel you anymore. I think it’s best for us both if I refer you to another—”
He steps in front of me, blocking my view of the assembly. “You’re not quitting me.”
I inhale a shaky breath. “I don’t want to. But I don’t have a choice. You have to understand.” I try to move around him, but he latches on to my wrist.
“Understand what?” he demands. His grip tightens to the point of pain. “After only one meeting, what could possibly be so alarming about me, Ms. Montgomery?” He dips closer, whispers against my ear: “Do I scare you? Or is it that I turn you on?”
Violent tendencies. The words in his file crash to the surface. My heart rockets to my throat. I blink rapidly, searching my arsenal of psychiatry to find a way to defuse him.
“Carter, you’re causing a scene. Please, stop.” I meet his eyes, imploring him. “You’re hurting me.”
That seems to break through, and he blinks. His grasp on my wrist loosens. “Just see me tomorrow,” he says. “I can’t get you out of my mind. I need to see you.”
With more strength than I feel in the moment, I snatch my arm free and slip away.
I keep walking and push through the doors, hitting the hallway at a brisk pace. The almost fresh air—the air not laced with his scent—clears my head. But I can still hear his words: I need to see you.
Words are powerful. If you give people a chance to speak, their words will tell you who they are.
Carter needs me.
There’s no use fighting this attraction to him, to deny what is happening between us. That’s why I’m here, why I chose this field. To help those who need me.
No matter the risk, I have to take it.
I wrap my hand around the wrist he held captive. It’s hot and pulsing, and I can still feel his fingers pressed to my skin.
On my way to the office, I pass the giant bulletin board in the main hallway, the one situated right under the stairs. It showcases highlights, and updates, and academy news features. Like new students joining Black Mountain Academy.
There’s a picture of Carter under the headline. He’s sporting that cocky smirk he wore in my office. I lift my hand to touch his face…then stop. Glance down either direction of the hallway.
My heart knocks painfully against my breast plate.
A step too far…
I pluck the picture from the board.
It’s just a token of my devotion to my patient, I tell myself. A way to think about him when he’s not around, to keep him in my thoughts, to discover ways to help him.
The words we tell ourselves are just as powerful. We can create any reality as easily as we can distort it. My devotion to Carter is sealed. Even if it means my ruin.
Influence
Ellis
“Student displays signs of Obsessive Love Disorder, responding aggressively when rejected.” I lift my thumb to pause the recording. I use a handheld digital recorder to document private thoughts. No cellphones that can be hacked, or journals that can be misplaced. I have a lock code on the device.
Right now, I’m analyzing Carter’s behavior from the day before, becoming increasingly aware of the possibility that, unless he’s purposely behaving in a way to mislead me, we may share the same disorder.
I press Record. “After his hostile display, I didn’t confirm or deny that our meetings would continue. I’m leaving it up to the student to make the next move, to see what further develops.”
I stop the recording, letting my thoughts wander. It occurred to me, with the little I know about Carter’s home life, there could be a very real link to lack of nurture in his development. Mother or father related.