Page 24 of Ruthless Prince
“So they were there when you were chased? They actually saw this maskedman?”
My shoulders sagged.“Well… no. I got separated from them somehow. They didn’t see any ofit.”
Gen and Monroe exchanged glances. I could tell what they were thinking.Howconvenient.
“But you told them about the incident when ithappened?”
“No,” I said. “I was mad at them, so I never told them. I never toldanyone.”
“I see.” Monroe made another note and cleared his throat again. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you, Willow. How do you explain the masked man’s ability to sneak in and out of your room? The White House Executive Residence is one of the most secure places in thecountry.”
I gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I have no idea. Could he have crawled down from a vent in the ceiling and then climbed backup?”
Gen cut in before the doctor could respond. “No. That’s notpossible.”
“Then the Secret Service agents must be in on it,” I said. “They let him in. That explains why it was so easy for him. They could’ve edited the security footage,too.”
Dr. Monroe leaned forward again. “This is what concerns me the most—this idea that so many people are supposedly in on this scheme to target you. Government employees, no less. It’s classic gang-stalking.”
“I know it sounds nuts, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. How else would the man get in my room without beingcaught?”
Gen pressed her lips into a thin line. “We actually thought something like this might come up, so we arranged to have independent analysts look at the security footage. They drew the same conclusions as the team at the field office. It hasn’t been tampered with in any way. No one came in or out of your room after you went to bed last night. You were the only person in there,Willow.”
The words sank in slowly. I slumped back again, stomachchurning.
No wonder they didn’t believe me. It made far more sense that just one person—me, in this case—could have mental issues and hallucinate terrible things happening to them, instead of other people conspiring for months to make that person feel like they were goingcrazy.
I licked my dry lips and let my hands go limp beside me. “Could you tell me more about this whole psychosis thing?” I asked in a meektone.
Dr. Monroe smiled gently. “Of course. I know it sounds scary, because you’ve probably seen and heard so many awful things involving that word over the years, but it’s treatable, and it’s not as bad as you might think. It doesn’t mean you’re some sort of violent psychopath who could snap at any moment. That’s a common myth, and a very damagingone.”
“So what does it mean,then?”
“It just means a person has lost their capacity to tell what’s real from what isn’t. It usually occurs as a part of other mental illnesses, and like I said, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Something like one in every two hundred people experience a psychotic illness each year. That’s a lot ofpeople.”
“Right.”
“In most cases, it happens in the form of an ‘episode’. That’s when you experience a period of acute symptoms. I think it’s happening to you right now, and after hearing that tunnel story, I think you also experienced an episode a few months ago. That was probably the firstone.”
Tears burned in the corners of my eyes. “What causes it? You said it’s normally part of a bigger mental illness,right?”
“That’s right. But in your case, I believe you are actually suffering from a severe anxiety disorder with psychotic features. Not a psychoticdisorder.”
“Why do you thinkthat?”
“I’m basing my opinion on what I heard from you earlier and what I’ve seen of your behavior today. I also spoke to your parents and your regular security detail before you woke up, and they gave me accounts of your recent behavior that made me suspect an anxiety issue before you and I even spoke.” He scooted his chair closer to my bed. “The people closest to you say you’ve become quite withdrawn over the last year orso.”
I licked my lips again. “I guess that’s true, but I never thought of that as an anxiety thing. It’s just hard to make new friends in my position, and a lot of my old friends are…” I trailed off for a second and shook my head. “Let’s just say they aren’t always verynice.”
“I understand. Putting the friend issue aside, would you say you often feelanxious?”
“Yes, I suppose so, but is that really surprising?” I knitted my brows. “My mom was the VP, and now she’s the president. It’s stressful as hell to be around that, day in and day out. I know I sound like a whiny bitch, because it’s probably way more stressful forher,but—”
Dr. Monroe cut me off. “That’s the thing. You’re allowed to feel stressed, Willow. You’re allowed to have these feelings. No one thinks you’re a whiny bitch, as you so eloquently stated.” He smiled. “It’s not easy being the young daughter of a very prominent political figure. You’ve been forced to grow up in the publiceye.”
“Yeah. I guess. But I didn’t think being anxious could make me have delusions and hallucinations,” I mumbled, picking at myfingernails.
It was so hard to accept that everything I’d gone through could just be a figment of my imagination. Last night seemed so real. The masked man’s voice in my ear, his hands on my breasts, his dark gaze on mybody…
