Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
His eyes flash with a ghost of something darker, but it’s gone so quickly I’m certain I imagined it.
“PTSD can manifest in many ways.” He laces his hands together. “Feeling constantly on edge is a common symptom. But you’re safe here. With me.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“That’s a natural response to what you’ve been through. Just remember, the devil—Denver—is dead.”
“The devil has many forms, many faces. Some might say he’s immortal.”
“Your nightmares, your demons, they’re a reflection of your trauma and can be incredibly powerful and persistent. But they’re part of your past.”
Unless the stalker in Denver’s riddle is real.
“The past and present try to blur together sometimes.” I look down, my hands twisting on my lap. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back there. I can’t escape it.”
“Escaping isn’t about running from your fears. It’s about facing them, understanding them, and finding ways to cope with them. It’s a process, one that takes time. You need to take care of yourself, Frankie. Your heart is deeply scarred. Give yourself time and permission to heal.”
“I’m trying. But I feel like I have to be strong for everyone else. If I fall apart, who will hold everything together?”
“You don’t have to carry all of this on your own. Ask for help. Lean on others.”
“Trust me. I lean plenty. Like this session? Monty’s paying for it. He feeds me, clothes me, provides a roof over my head.”
“He’s your husband.”
“Only on paper. I don’t want to be dependent on him. I’m so used to being the one who takes care of everyone.”
“That’s the nurse in you.” He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “You’ve shown incredible strength, but even the strongest people need support.”
“Yeah.” I slide my arm away. “You’re right.”
“It’s a process. Focus on mini-milestones. You’ve already started by meeting with me and opening up. It’s a big step.”
“Okay.” I roll back my shoulders, absorbing his words.
“You matter, Frankie. Your feelings and needs are just as important as everyone else’s. Through therapy and a solid support system, you’ll get through this.”
“My support system is incredible, but they’re struggling, too. I’m pushing them into therapy, even though they don’t want it and don’t think they need it.”
“Monty set up sessions for all four of you to meet with me. They may not like it but…” He grins. “This will only hurt a little.”
“What did you say?” A chill trickles across my scalp.
“He set up sessions—”
“No. You said…”
Don’t struggle. This will only hurt a little.
My breath quickens. My chest tightens, and my gaze darts to the exit, the first hints of panic creeping in.
I know what’s coming. I’ve seen this before, in Kody, in myself.
Closing my eyes, I focus on breathing. Inhale for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight. Repeat.
“Frankie?” Doyle’s voice fades into the background.
My hands grip the edge of the chair. I know this is my body’s fight-or-flight response, my sympathetic nervous system in overdrive.
Breathe, Frankie. Fucking breathe.
Sweat beads on my forehead. A trickle runs down my back. But I keep counting, keep breathing, and slowly, my heart rate starts to slow.
I’m safe. I’m here. I’m now.
The rational part of my brain fights to regain control. I let it.
I keep my eyes closed for a few more minutes, giving my body time to settle. The wave of panic recedes, leaving me exhausted but functional.
I know I’ll have to face this again, but for now, I’ve won.
Opening my eyes, I straighten in the chair and take a deep breath.
“You had a panic attack.” He’s closer than he was before, his hand gripping the armrest of my chair.
I glare at it until he removes it and sits back.
“I started to panic, and I pushed it back.”
“Which part of what I said triggered it?”
“Something I heard from my captor’s mouth.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Frankie, I think—”
“I’m a nurse. I know what my body’s doing, and I can handle it.” I cross my legs. “Now where were we?”
His lips press into a line, and he pulls in a breath. “Monty set up sessions for all four of you.”
“Monty. Right. What if it’s a conflict of interest? How can you help him when you think so little of him?”
“My sessions with Monty will focus on his personal issues, mental health concerns, and goals rather than addressing your concerns as a couple. If I find that I’m inadvertently siding with you, and it compromises my ability to treat him, I’ll have an open discussion with him about it and likely refer him to another psychiatrist.”
“Okay.” I nod slowly and continue counting in my head, measuring every breath. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Remember, the devil may have many forms, but so do your strengths. We’ll find them together.”
His eyes burn with a genuine desire to help me. It doesn’t erase my fears, but it makes the fight feel a little less intimidating.