Page 13 of Origins
Panic raced through me—I had completely forgotten what I had admitted to Dr. Stephens during my bout of verbal diarrhea. I was such an idiot.
They would know. They would think that something was wrong with me.
Dr. Stephens hadn’t sent me here for help—or rather, not any help of the paranormal kind. Damen was a psychologist, and Julian a doctor-in-training. I didn’t know what Miles’ involvement was, but Dr. Stephens had totally sent me here for an evaluation.
I was probably their training tool.
No one seemed to notice my horror, and Damen still hadn’t paused from his notetaking as he responded. “What’s your point? There are many mediums, sensitives, or whatever you want to call them, in the world. We already know that they tend to become a target more than not.”
“Think, Mr. Damen.” Dr. Stephens sounded exasperated. “She’s clearly something of the sort, and she justhappensto be friends with your brother. You are smarter than this.”
Damen’s pencil froze in midair, and he slowly raised his eyes until they met mine.
My mind was reeling from confusion. Did they believe me, or didn’t they? Was this some kind of practical joke?
I wanted to flee, but I was trapped as the tension in the room was focused entirely on me. Instead, I focused on picking at an imaginary thread on my shirt, trying to keep my hands from shaking.
“What does Finn have to do with anything?” I stuttered. I didn’t like this change in topic one bit—what happened to discussing the haunting? This was dangerous territory, and was not something that I ever wanted to address with others. “Stop joking. The fact that I’m his friend—or that I may or may not see ghosts—has nothing to do with this. Finn doesn’t even believe in the paranormal. He says that ghosts don’t exist. It’s a subject he is extremely passionate about.”
The other inhabitants of the room seemed to find my statement to be hilarious.
I couldn’t breathe.
They were laughing at me. Laughing at the frustration and self-doubt that I faced every day. Laughing about every time that my best friend told me that I was crazy.
My vision blurred as I got to my feet. I’d had enough of people not taking me seriously.
“It’s not funny!” Despite my inner turmoil, my voice was firm. The laughter died as suddenly as it had begun, but it wasn’t enough. “You don’t know what it’s like to live like this my whole life, and to have no one on my side. And now you’re all acting as if it’s a joke that my best friend says that I need to be committed because of the things that I feel. It’snotfunny.”
All traces of humor were gone from their faces now.
Before I could say anything else—or leave—Julian grabbed my hand again. “Wait, what did Finn say?”
“It doesn’t matter.” They didn’t need to know. They had already heard more than enough and only seemed to care about Finn now. “If you aren’t going to help me, then I’ll just leave.”
“Bianca.” Julian’s grip tightened and his eyes earnestly sought out mine, but I glanced away. I didn’t want to be pulled into the strange hypnotic crap that they were able to cast over me.
He sighed. “Bianca, of course we’ll help you. But first, please tell us—what did Finn say? We really need to know. What happened?”
No, they really didn’t need to know. And there was no way that I could open myself up to that kind of humiliation and judgment—not again.
“Never mind.” I twisted my arm—Julian let go at once. “I’ll just take care of it myself. You can forget that I was ever here.”
I could still feel their eyes on me, following my movements as I gathered up my purse and made for the door. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for the tea.”
Someone moved behind me, and I heard Damen call my name. But I ignored him. There was nothing else to be said on the matter.
I opened the door—about to step into the hallway—when I came face-to-chest with my giant, lumberjack stalker.
He actually followed me here? How persistent. I didn’t need this!
“Titus,” Damen was right behind me, “what in the world happened to your face?”
Titus—and apparently that was his real name—looked at me curiously with those striking eyes of his. And even though his face was blotchy, and his eyes watery and swollen, he was still as seductive as before.
How in the world was this even possible?
Despite my admiration of his physical attributes, my heart thundered in my chest in fear. Not only was this man apparently Damen’s friend, but I had alsomacedhim.
