Page 2 of Killing Me Softly

“I want to make people happy.”

“What about making yourself happy?”

Her smile faded for a second before she realised and so she quickly plastered it back on. “I think I can be happy. Find my place in the world. I want a husband.” She held the doctor’s gaze. “Have a baby! I want to be a cleaner.”

“A cleaner?” Dr Laura wrote that down. “Why would you want to be a cleaner?”

Granted, it wasn’t the career aspiration most had. But she had limited experience of what roles lay beyond the four walls that had enclosed her within for years now. All she knew were doctors. Nurses. Cooks. But they all had to talk to people. And she wasn’t very good at that. She could do it when she had to. But it was draining. Whereas the cleaners here came when no one else was around. They worked mostly in solitude. She could handle that. Plus, she enjoyed making things look pretty on the surface. Because that’s how she was.

Pretty on the surface. Rotten underneath.

Like her mother.

And Dr Laura Pryce.

Besides, it was a job the people here could help her find. Cart her off to some other agency. Wash their hands of her once and for all. She couldn’t very well be apolice officer,could she? Imagine that? Someone like her being an officer of the law. Or even in bed with those who catch people like her. That would be like sleeping with the enemy. Or worse, fucking a shrink!

Perish the thought.

“I want to make the world a better place.” She smiled again and wondered if she was coming across too much like a robot.

“That’s a commendable thing to want.” Dr Laura wrote something down. “And to seek companionship is also good. Do you see yourself as a mother?”

She swallowed. “I would be a wonderful mother!”

“It can be very challenging,” Dr Pryce peered over her clipboard. “You have to put the child first. Make sacrifices. You have to love your child. Do you think you have the skills to do all that?”

“Yes.” She placed her hands on her knees. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t be given thechance.”

Her voice was velvet and thorns, all warmth on the surface, but serrated beneath. Because why should she be denied something that every other woman was allowed? Whether they were ready for it, wanted it, would be good at it, or even knew how to do it. It was herright. As a woman. To procreate if she wanted to. It was literally the only use for a woman. Or so society believed. And as she wanted to rejoin that stupid society, then she should play the part. Push out a sprog. Drag it up. Watch it fail.

Like her mother had.

And like Roisin, she’d learn how to wield love like a weapon. Then maybe she would finally see her, like how she sawhim.

“I’m ready, doctor. I’ve done everything everyone asked of me. Followed the program to the letter. Weekly group therapy, individual sessions, cognitive behavioural exercises. I’ve journaled, meditated, and explored the depths of my trauma.” She leaned forward, just enough to feel the slight crack in her composure. “Haven’t I been a model patient for you? Is there anything else you want me to do?” She bit her lip, as she should have her tongue. She’d gone too far. But Dr Pryce would rein her back in. She was good like that.

“You’ve certainly shown remarkable progress,” Laura replied, edging away from her stare.

The scratch of pen on page set her teeth on edge, a grating reminder that every word she spoke wasn’t just recorded but dissected. The doctors weren’t just listening. They were watching.Judging. And she wasn’t sure what the right thing to say or even do was. Her thoughts tangled, pulling her in opposite directions like a cruel tug-of-war. She wished someone would tell her the rules again. Like when she’d been a child.Do this. Say that. Smile here. Then we’ll love you.Simple. But that was the curse of being raised by madness. There was no one sane to mimic. No blueprint to follow.

She was sure that if she could only step back into the world, she’d figure it out. Watch the normal people, see how they lived, what they valued. But instead, she’d been locked away, kept behind glass like an experiment. Observed. Analysed. Picked apart by people who never cared enough tounderstand.

It wasn’t fair. None of it.

And it was allhisfault.

She hadn’t meant to do those awful things. Hadn’t had achoice. Not really. The world was twisted long before she’d ever laid a hand on it. Of course, it had blurred her sense of reality. Of course, it had taught her that people were just pieces on a board. Replaceable. Expendable.

But she was smarter now.

Understood therules.

“Tell me.” Dr Laura shifted in her seat. “When you reflect on your childhood, how do you feel now?”

She tilted her head, her platinum hair catching the sunlight. For a moment, she probably looked innocent. Ethereal, even. A reflection of what she might have been if the world hadn’t bled her dry and pushed her into thislittle box.

“There are gaps,” she said thoughtfully. “Blanks where memories should be. But that’s not surprising, is it? Trauma rewires the brain. When we’re children, we survive by forgetting. By building walls.” She met the doc’s gaze. “But I’ve worked hard to remember the important things. Thegoodthings.”

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