The stories that killed their writer

Chapter 36: A second opinion

Stephanie's POV

I had taken the weekend off. I sometimes do this to have some time for myself. To have time to think about life. To have time to reflect on life. I found it important to reflect frequently, as that's how you grow as a person.

I didn't have anything planned, I wasn't planning on leaving the house, I was just relaxing. And that was fine for me. I didn't mind having these lazy days. It's a nice break from the busy days.

I was watching tv, a tv show I sometimes watched. I wasn't really following that show, it was merely on so I could watch something.

At some point, my eyes landed on a file on my coffee table. I looked at it for a while before sitting up and giving it all my attention. I took the file and opened it, revealing Lana's details. I smiled at her name.

I sighed as I put the file down again. It was hard to see her as my patient, as I wanted her in a completely different way. I wanted more. But I knew I shouldn't want it. It's not right. But I can't help how I feel.

I shrugged those thoughts off and took my phone. I realized I'd need a distraction to get through this day. 

_____________________________

"Hey," I leaned in, greeting her with a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Come in."

"Thanks," She walked to the living room before looking around. "You've changed the style again."

I chuckled. "You know I like to change things up, Lydia."

Lydia turned around to face me. "That's true," She smiled at me. "Always busy doing something."

I nodded slowly.

"So," She walked closer to me. "What are we going to do? Any ideas?"

I shrugged. "Anything is fine."

She tilted her head to the side a bit. "Do you have a lot on your mind?"

I looked away a bit. I guess that's the 'bad side' to having a best friend that's also a psychologist: she'd know when things are wrong.

"Is it personal or professional?"

I gulped. How would I even label Lana? I looked at Lydia. "Professional." I played it safe, I couldn't risk anything.

Lydia nodded slowly. "A difficult case?"

I slowly nodded.

"Maybe I can help?"

"No," I showed her a small smile. "I'll be fine," I then took my jacket, which I had laid on the couch, and put it on. "Let's go."

She smiled too and walked to me but, on her way over, she stopped as she spotted a file on the coffee table. Lana's file...

"Lydia, that's nothing."

Despite what I was saying, Lydia took the file and opened it. I could've walked to her and stopped this, I could've taken the file away, I could've pulled Lydia with me. However, I did nothing. I just stood there and watched her read it all. Perhaps a part of me wanted this, a second opinion.

I gulped as I saw she had finished it. "And," I walked closer to her. "What do you think?"

She put the file down before looking at me. "This woman needs help."

I gulped again.

"She has completely lost touch with reality," She looked at me. "Do you see her often?"

I slowly nodded. "Once a week."

Lydia let out a breath. "She needs intensive training, a medical team who can assist her, a good and safe environment to provide stability," She looked at me. "Why haven't you recommended this to her?"

I gulped.

"Stephanie," She looked so serious then. "What's going on here?" She crossed her arms. "Do I really have to assume why this woman's file was the only one on your coffee table?"

I gulped and looked away.

She sighed. "You broke the code, didn't you?"

I didn't say anything but I nodded.

She let out a deep breath, I knew she was disappointed. Lydia went to sit down on the couch. "Why?"

I gulped again. "I don't know," I looked down. "She fascinates me, I guess," I walked to Lydia and sat down next to her. "Whenever she speaks about her characters," I couldn't help but smile. "It's so interesting to hear."

"Stephanie," She said, gaining my attention. "This woman sees figures which don't exist. Your fascination shouldn't prevent you from doing the right thing for her," She said, making me look down. "She is in dire need of mental help, can't you see that?"

I slowly nodded. "I just want to help her myself," I sighed. "I thought I could do it."

"This case requires more than one therapy session a week," She put her hand on mine. "She needs to be evaluated and trained, and monitored."

"I know," I looked down, at our hands. "I know." I repeated.

"I know you might have feelings for her," She paused. "But the way I know you," She paused again. "You're not like that."

I looked at her.

"You'd never break the code," She looked at me. "I wonder if it is possible you lost focus of yourself because this case is so unique."

I frowned a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you were so fascinated by her experience that you fell in love with that, with the case," She sighed. "It doesn't mean you have feelings for her."

I gulped as I looked away again, thinking about what she had just said. Could it be possible I mistook my own feelings for love? Could it be I actually was just fascinated by Lana and her experience?

"Either way, you should help this woman," She said, gaining my attention again. "Do the right thing, Stephanie. Give her the help she needs."

I looked down, at Lana's file, and I wondered: should I be Lana's friend - and ignore her issue - or be her therapist - and deal with the issue?