“Mother,” I whispered. A tremble radiated throughout my body. I knew I needed to apologize but I wasn’t ready yet. Bile rose in my stomach and I wished I were alone. The bright, cheery nurse shouldn’t have to see my punishment, to witness my shame.
“Can I come in?” a rich, female voice asked.
I let out a breath, sinking back in my pillows.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Marshall,” the woman said as she entered my room. She held out a thin hand with long fingers and a perfectly sculpted manicure. I stared at her hand for a long moment. Oddly, I’d never shaken another person’s hand before. She smiled patiently, waiting until I was ready. I tentatively reached out my own hand and placed it in hers. My hand looked pasty and dead in comparison.
I watched apprehensively as she settled into the chair next to my bed.
“How are you doing?” she asked conversationally, like we were old friends.
I stared at her mutely. There seemed to be no right answer to the question. Everything was very confusing at that moment.
“I talked to your doctors and they tell me you’re going to make a full recovery, considering.” Her eyes clouded over briefly on the last word.
“Are you one of my doctors?” I asked. My voice was still croaky and I wished I had more water.
“I’m a psychologist here at the hospital. In cases like yours, the hospital likes to bring in someone of my expertise early on. We’re going to have a lot of chats, if that’s okay with you?”
I nodded as I rubbed my wrist. I didn’t think Mother would like it, but I didn’t mention that.
“I imagine you’ll be glad to have your IV removed soon.”
I looked down at the tubing attached to the needle in my hand and absently scratched at it. Up until then I hadn’t given it much thought. It was more tolerable than the handcuffs that had bound me to the bed in my basement room. My eyes shifted to my other wrist covered in a thick gauze bandage.
“I work in the medical field, but I’ve always hated IVs,” Dr. Marshall rattled on in spite of my silence. “And what about when they’re trying to find your vein with the needle?” She shuddered for emphasis. “Do you hate needles too?”
I shrugged my shoulders again. I ran her question through my head. Was I afraid of needles? It was a trivial thing considering there were worse things to fear. Mother gave me shots and I always knew that I needed to hold still. I did dread it when she would appear with shots in hand. Did that mean I was afraid of needles?
“Mother wouldn’t allow me to be afraid of them. I held still because I was told to,” I said.
Dr. Marshall remained indifferent, more curious than anything. “Mother?” she inquired. “Is that the woman you were staying with, Judy Lawson? You call her Mother?” she asked, jotting something on the notebook that sat on her knees.
“Yes,” I answered though I didn’t know that was Mother’s name. I remember one time making the mistake of asking Mother what her name was and she slapped me in the mouth in response, insisting that Mother was all I needed to know. After that I never ever considered bringing it up again. “Is that wrong?” I asked as the doctor continued to make her notes.
She looked up from her notepad. “Nothing you say is wrong. I know you’re confused. I’m only here to help you. Can you trust me to do that?”
My fingers plucked nervously at the blanket beside me. I was afraid of the trouble this would cause and I wasn’t sure Dr. Marshall understood that, but I wanted to trust her. I nodded again.
She smiled brightly at my words. “Very good. We’re destined to be friends by the time we work all this out.”
I smiled tentatively. “I’ve never had a real friend,” I said.
Her face clouded for the briefest of moments before spreading back into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She could not fool me. I may not understand a lot of things, but studying facial expressions had been a means of escaping punishment. Mother’s moods could be read like pages in a book.
“I’m honored to be your first.”
I instantly responded to her smile, feeling more at ease than I had since arriving at the hospital.
“I think if we’re destined to be friends though, we should be formally reintroduced. Hi, I’m Dr. Alexandra Marshall,” she said, holding her hand out again. “You can call me Alexandra.”
I couldn’t hold back a smile. Something about her made me feel like I could trust her. “I’m Leah,” I said, shaking her hand like a pro.
I watched as she released my hand and jotted something on her pad. Had I done something wrong? My eyes moved to the paper, but the way she held it made it hard to make out her words. “I see. Well—Leah,” she said, pausing on my name. “What do you remember about the day you were rescued?”
“I left,” I answered simply. “Mother was angry, she probably still is. I knew the sunlight was bad for me. She warned me but I had to see for myself. Is that why I’ve been so sick?”
“Judy Lawson told you the sunlight would make you sick?” she asked, twirling her pen.