Gone Girl 3

Chapter 15

Veronica's POV

I keep tossing and turning in the bed. The clock on the wall signs five am. I couldn't sleep the whole night. I kept replaying in my head over and over again the moment he came back and saw I was gone.

I know he didn't want me to leave, which makes it so much worse. It makes me a coward.

The moment I found the closest hotel, I called my therapist, Mrs. Josephine Smith, and scheduled a meeting with her for today, at 9 am. I was lucky it wasn't a busy day.

She seemed so happy to hear me, it's been a while and she started thinking I'd never meet with her again.

I don't know if therapy will help, maybe I will never really be an emotionally available person. Some people aren't meant to give love. They only take, and take and take until they leave your soul empty and you have no choice but leave.

It's me. I'm the soul crusher. I don't want to be, but I don't think I can change that.

Maybe I should be alone, maybe that's what's meant for me.

I grab the phone from the bedside table and I turn it on. I notice twenty four missed calls and a few messages from Derek. I immediately sit up and I put my hand on my forehead.

Derek: Why dif you leave?

Derek: let's talk please

Derek: please just come back I will stay somewhere else

Derek: are you okay??

I must have worried him so badly. I can't even blame him. My rapist roams freely and I run away? Especially after a fight?

I'm an idiot.

So I reply.

Me: Hey... I'm sorry I left like that. I figured it was the best decision at the moment. I'm okay.

Sent.

Immediately after, a message pops up.

Message can't be sent. Try again.

I try again for one hundred times and it keeps saying the same thing. I throw my phone on the bedside table frustrated. What the fuck is wrong with it?

I close my eyes and finally fall asleep.

My alarm wakes me up only three hours later. I'm grumpy and I wish I could sleep more. Why did I schedule it so early?

Right. I have class at 12 pm. I don't even know how I'll get there.

I quickly get ready and I try to send the message again but it doesn't work. I let out a loud frustrated grunt. I should call him but I doubt that works if texts don't.

Now I'm really getting worried. Is it my stupid phone or did something happen to him?

I call a cab, basically using the only money I had for the second night at this hotel. I will have to come back later to get my stuff, Irène could help me. But I also have class...

Not long after I'm at my therapist's office and she greets me with a warm but short hug.

"So nice to see you, have a seat."

I sit on the leather seat in front of her desk. She sits on her chair elegantly and sips coffee.

Her desk is cluttered with all kinds of things, mostly notebooks and a book about some kind of psychology thing. Bet Nicole would enjoy it.

"I want to come to therapy regularly," I admit, which surprises me. I haven't changed much—I'm still a destructive mess—but I'm trying. For the first time in three years I'm actually trying.