Page 35 of Give Me Strength

“Which is why Bluegrass was not held liable then,” I point out, my irritation clear. “That excuse won’t pass muster a second time, especially since you re-admitted Leland knowing full well that Ashlynn has a restraining order against him.”

A beat passes, as she weighs her options.

She meets my gaze, her expression firm but sympathetic. “We’ll do our best to keep Ashlynn safe during school hours. We’ll increase vigilance, make sure she’s not alone during school hours, and work with both campus security and the local authorities. But a full security overhaul is beyond our capacity, and what happens outside school grounds is not my concern. That may sound harsh to a man of means like yourself, but Bluegrass High School is funded by the tax payers. We have to work within our limitations and consider the broader implications for the school.”

What I’m hearing is, the greater good far outweighs the safety of one student. Which, when taken out of context seems logical.

But she created this situation in the first place. It won’t end the way she thinks it would.

I stand. “I will be taking this up with the superintendent.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Do what you must.”

“And I will be pressing charges against Leland. Again.”

She picks up her pen and clicks it. Twice. Then, “I’m sorry, but shouldn’t that be Miss Crane’s decision? Last I checked, she’s eighteen.”

“And I’m her legal guardian. Try any of those underhanded manipulative tactics with her again, and you’ll answer to me. And in case I’m not being clear enough, you aren’t allowed to talk to her without me, Bonnie, or her lawyer present.”

She scoffs at that. “She’s my student.”

“And I have no doubt that you’ve abused your authority as principal for far too long.”

As I leave the office, a sense of helplessness washes over me. The casual dismissal of the danger Ashlynn is in gnaws at me, and I can’t put any stock in the so-called increased vigilance. That only goes so far.

I’m actually counting on Nicole not complying with that request. It should make things easier for the future. I weave through a sea of teenagers, my heat pounding with a mix of frustration and urgency. And as soon as I reach my car, I call the first person I can think of.

Will picks up on the fourth ring. “Long time no talk.”

His upbeat attitude is… something. “What can you tell me about the situation with Bluegrass High School?”

He blows out a breath. “Is this a serious inquiry or casual interest?”

“That’ll depend on what you have to tell me.”

“Then I suggest you stop by.”

16

GILBERT

“Since our last session, have you noticed any specific triggers or patterns?” I ask, notebook open, pen poised for scribbling.

Emily — my 11:00 A.M patient — hesitates, her gaze dropping to her hands folded in her lap. “There was one night…”

I remain focused as we delve into the details, providing a steady, calming presence. Each patient brings their own story and pain, and hers is, well, complicated. In addition, these sessions are court-ordered, which does little to instill her confidence in the system — the same one meant to protect her.

My role as her psychiatrist is not just to listen, but to guide her through the labyrinth of her emotions, helping her find the light amidst the darkness. And even though this is our sixth session, I don’t see her warming up to me anytime soon.

Per her request, I stay behind my desk for a good portion of our sessions, the surface immaculate except for a single open notebook, a fountain pen, a closed laptop, and a small framed photo of Rachel and myself. Emily, on the other hand, sits in the plush, gray armchair facing my desk. I comply with her request because she needs to feel like she has some semblance of control over her own life, and if this is how she gets that, then so be it.

At twenty-nine, Emily’s goal is to get out of a conservatorship imposed on her by her grandparents. I read her files, and I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt that they had good intentions when it was put in place a decade ago. Now, it borders on the financial and emotional abuse of a vulnerable adult — one who so desperately wants control of her life. Yet the adults who should be helping her achieve this are more interested in keeping her under their thumb.

“I called a friend,” Emily is saying. “She came over and stayed with me until I calmed down. We talked about everything and nothing, just to keep my mind off it.”

I nod, jotting down a few notes. I underline the word friend a few times, to expand on it in our next session. She’s on a roll, and I won’t interrupt her flow.

Initially, I made it clear to her that she didn’t have to like me, but she needed to trust me. To trust that I’d have her best interests at heart. Even though she had no reason to. I consider each session a step forward, a small victory in her ongoing battle against… well, everything. She’s come a long way and knows she still has a long way to go.

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