Page 145 of Ruin Me Gently

“That can sometimes happen,” she said. “She’s been off her medication, sustained an attack, and suffered a head injury. It could be a withdrawal symptom, a response to the physical or mental trauma, or a combination of all three. I can only access a brief summary of her records so quickly. I won’t know much until I gain full access at my office.”

I gritted my teeth. The uncertainty grated at me, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I needed toknow.Needed tofixit.

“What can I do to help her?”

She hesitated, then gave me a look—one that told me I wasn’t going to like her answer.

“Nothing, really,” she admitted. “From the medication she’s on, it seems like she has complex post-traumatic stress disorder. And thatisn’tfrom the attack.” She paused for a second, glancing back over to Lilith before saying, “She’s been on her medication for nine years. It goes much deeper than what’s recently happened. Just… don’t force anything, okay?”

Nine years.

This wasn’t new for her. She’d lived with this—whateverthiswas—for nearly a decade. And I hadn’t known. I hadn’t even had aclue.Or had I? There must have been some kind of sign I’d overlooked. Something I’d missed.

I took in a heavy lungful of oxygen, steadying myself, then nodded. “Okay,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”

She studied me for a moment longer before nodding in return, then turned to sort through a stack of paperwork she needed to process Lilith’s prescription.

“Are you looking after yourself, Mr. Graves?” she asked as she passed me the stack of papers. “This must be hard on you too. Is there anyone here for you?”

I tucked the sheets under my arm and led her to the elevator. “I’ll be fine.”

The second the doors shut behind her, I took a deep breath, steadying myself before turning back to Lilith.

She was still on the couch, staring blankly at her own legs, completely still. Not absent, not asleep—justgone.

Dissociation.That’s what Dr. Hayes had called it. Her mind protecting itself in the only way it knew how. I felt stupid for not recognising it sooner. How had I not seen it? Had this happened in front of me before?

I tried to think back.

The gala.

She’d been quiet. Withdrawn. I put it down to what had just happened between her and Clark, or that she was uncomfortable around a stranger. What if she’d been slipping away then? Had I just stood there, oblivious while she disappeared into herself?

Something in my chest tightened as I crossed the room, lowering myself onto the couch beside her. Close, but not too close.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” I asked softly.

She made a quiet sound in the back of her throat. A hum—yes.

Not much of an answer, but I’d take it.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” she murmured.

I nodded, rubbing a hand across my jaw. “I’ll get your prescription picked up in a few hours.”

Another hum.

I sat back, letting the silence between us as I watched her. Took her in.

The big, stitched gash on her forehead. The deep purple bruising around her eyes, dark and swollen, stark against her pale skin. And that was just what Icouldsee. I had no idea how she looked under my clothes. Under the pair of my shorts that hung on her frame, under my T-shirt that draped over her shoulders, swallowing her whole. It should’ve been something I liked, something that made me feelgood,seeing her wrapped up in my things. But right now, all it did was make my stomach twist.

She was only wearing them because she couldn’t go home. She waslike thisbecause of me.

Guilt sat in my gut like a stone. Heavy. Unshakeable.

This was all because of me.

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