Page 1 of The Therapist

Prologue

7 Years Ago

“Robin? Don’t you remember? She was the girl who always walked on the sidewalk. Used the crosswalks. Showed up for 8 a.m. classes. She never broke a rule, however mundane it might have been. A good girl. A stickler for order and guidelines; in other words: boring. Don’t invite her—she’s a buzz kill.”

The cacophony of laughter that follows grinds my nerves.

I press my back against the painted concrete wall and revel in the chill of it. They always did jack the heat up too much.

I swallow thickly and push old memories deep into the recesses of my soul. The chatter isn’t totally wrong, but it is painful, even at this event, my twenty year college reunion.

Once upon a time, I’d liked going out, meeting boys, and having fun; but by the time any of my classmates had the chance to get to know me, I’d already been marred. The thick wood door across from me should really block out the sound better.

The plastic-covered dorm mattress beneath me squeaks as I adjust myself. I close my journal with a satisfying thwack and stand.

The decades-old mirror reflects tired skin and too many fine lines surrounding my eyes. Stray gray hairs resembling tinsel glint in the light. Freckles blanket the bridge of my nose—or maybe they’re the beginnings of age spots. Using my middlefingers I lift the outside corners of my eyes slightly, revealing a sparkle of youth, and briefly contemplate how my life turned out so…plain.

More laughter comes from the other side of the thick wooden door. I wonder vaguely, what has them rolling this time, but I don’t dwell on it too much. They’re remembering someone else.

I’m a confident woman now. At least that’s what I tell myself. That’s what my patients would say.

It’s how I’m perceived. I’ve won awards.

I’ve treated the most difficult human conditions.

My job is never to criticize, apportion blame, or be judgmental. I’m known as an expert. I’m called to treat when they need the best. I’m called to testify as an expert in high-profile court cases. I deal with the most depraved humans.

I’ve learned there is no end of immoral revelations and no end of sincere excuses.

Early on, I’d been startled to hear some of the things people admitted to: stalking, incest, cutting, and harming others.

Everyone has a story to tell.

Ordinarily, when I’m with a patient, I pay attention. Being distracted when I ought to be listening is not just bad manners; it’s detrimental to both parties. Listening is my job, and I don’t come cheap, so the very least I can do is focus when my patients speak.

But lately, I’ve been clock-watching during sessions. Longing for something more in life. The last three years have changed me…my perspective.

I was called to counsel on a case that turned out to be rather public. The Tutor—a name coined for a madman who lured young women to his home under the guise of a tutoring job offer, then never let them leave—changed everything in my world for a second time.

You can’t sit and listen to people’s deepest, darkest, sordid desires all day and not start thinking differently eventually. Exposure therapy works for a reason.

I was introduced to Nora, the Tutor’s latest and final victim, who’d escaped, and realized that love, true love, harbors no boundaries.

You can love a madman.

You can love your assailant. And it is real love—the feeling of it. The experience.

From there, I became threaded into the fabric of Nora’s life. I met Liam, the Tutor’s brother; Eve, another escaped victim of Holden’s; and Charlotte or Lotte, who lived with Holden—a.k.a. the Tutor—for two years at a crucial age in her childhood.

I counseled them all. I came to know Nora’s best friend, Aubry, who’d been abducted and had escaped a sex trafficking ring in our sleepy little town, completely unrelated to her friend Nora’s experience.

All of them taught me something.

All of them drew some color back into my life that I hadn’t truly realized was missing.

But through Nora, Eve, and Lotte, I’ve been partially employed by their non-profit, NEL.

I still have my own private practice, but NEL is near and dear to my heart. I work with their existing programs to treat victims of all kinds of abuse. It’s gratifying in a way that paid hourly sessions are not.

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