Page 10 of Carved in Ice (Made of Steel 3)

“Not a thing.”

I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Why would V talk about me? I meant nothing to him. “The man that recommended I talk to you…” I wasn’t exactly sure how to word my question without looking insane. What’s his name? If we were friends I’d know his name. “He…”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss any other patients.”

That was shut down fast.

“Let’s go back to your parents.” He jotted something down in the notebook in front of him. “Mentioning them upset you, why is that? Is your relationship with them strained?”

Strained? I clasped my hands together under the table. “My parents died when I was eight years old. I never even got to know what a strained relationship with them would be like.”

His pen stopped. “Eight you said?”

“Yes. After that, I lived with my grandmother for awhile, but then she passed away. Then there were more foster families than I care to remember. Until one…stuck.”

He put his pen down on top of his notebook. “Have you ever talked to anyone about any of this before?”

I shrugged. “Not all the details, no.”

“You’ve been holding a lot of things close to your chest.”

“Not by choice.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

I wasn’t fond of whatever mind tricks he was trying to play. But I did find it easy to talk to him. “My best friend growing up knew what I had been through. We stayed pen pals while I moved around between foster families. But he stopped writing to me eventually.”

“Just stopped? With no explanation?”

“That’s what I thought.”

He stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

“I saw him again recently. He claimed he'd never stopped writing. My foster father must have hijacked his letters.”

“Why would your foster father do that?” His voice was gentle. It made it easy to talk to him.

“Our relationship was rather toxic.”

Dr. Miller lifted up his pen again. “How so?” He jotted something down in his notebook.

There wasn’t really a way to sugarcoat it. “He abused me.”

His pen stopped. “Mentally or…”

“Physically. Well, both really.” I realized my hands were clasped so tightly that I was cutting off my circulation. I pulled them apart and rubbed them against my thighs.

“Physically how?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “What do you think?”

“This isn’t a guessing game, Alison. What did he do to you?”

Alison. This man had no idea who I was. So what did it matter if he knew the truth? “He beat me. He raped me. He made me believe that I was worthless.” I think he murdered my parents. He’s manipulating this city just like he manipulated me. And he has a bounty on my head.

Dr. Miller closed his notebook. “I’m not going to pretend to understand the pain you’re feeling.”

Something about the way he said it made tears well in my eyes. Everyone liked to pretend they understood what I was going through. But they didn’t. I respected him for saying that he didn’t understand. I closed my eyes to try to stop myself from crying.

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