Patient A-3

Chapter 6: Speak Now

  My eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion takes over, the sleepless nights finally catching up to me. Just as I'm about to give in to the pull of sleep, my phone blares, yanking me awake. Heart racing, I leap to my feet, and the scissors— my pathetic excuse for a weapon— slip from my chest. Too afraid to grab anything sharper from downstairs, I'd settled for these. I snatch my phone, my fingers fumbling as I rub the fog from my eyes, struggling to make out the caller's name.

 Ryan.

 I jab my finger repeatedly on the decline button, tossing my phone back onto the bed as the intrusive noise finally stops. A sigh of relief escapes me as I bend down, scooping up the fallen scissors.

 Before I can catch my breath, another buzz cuts through the silence. I grab my phone, slamming my finger down on the accept button without even glancing at the caller ID. "Goddammit, Ryan! I told you to stop calling me!" I shout furiously into the phone.

 "Woah— honey, calm down. I'm not your ex," Mrs. Jackson's gentle voice chimes through the speaker. She chuckles softly. "Is he still bothering you, Lenny?"

 I wince, immediately regretting my outburst, the heat of embarrassment flooding my face. I feel like the worst person for snapping, especially now that I realize it's the kind woman who gave me a second chance, not my shitty ex-boyfriend.

 My anxiety begins to kick in as I rush out an apology, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Jackson. I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I thought you were—"

 "Ryan?" she cuts me off, laughing to herself.

 I can practically hear her smile through the phone as she continues, "Look, kiddo, I just wanted to check in on ya. You haven't gotten back to me about work like ya said ya would. I don't want ya to feel pressured to come back, but I miss seeing your sweet face."

 As much as I have no desire to return to work, I miss her too— more than I care to admit. She's like a mother to me, or perhaps more like a grandmother due to her age. "I'm alright. I miss you, but I'm not sure when I'll be back," I reply, the words feeling too small for everything I want to say.

 I bite my thumb, guilt twisting in my chest for leaving her without help. She said I could take as much time as I need, but I know she's already short-staffed. I had planned on returning soon, but with the new discovery in the basement, I'm not sure I can go back to work and pretend everything's normal while harboring two men down there.

 "I'm so sorr—"

 "Quit that! No apologies are necessary," her voice carries a warmth that eases some of the tightness in my chest. "You come back when you're ready, whether it's in a day or a month. Your job will always be waiting for ya, and so will I. Even if ya just stop by to say hi, or come by my place. I'll cook ya up a nice dinner, Babydoll."

 A genuine smile tugs at my lips, my nerves easing under the comfort of her words. Mrs. Jackson has always been a pillar of support in my life, treating me like family, and I'll forever be grateful to have her in my corner. "Thank you," I say, my voice thick with sincerity. "I'm sure I'll take you up on that offer eventually. I sure do miss your home-cooked meals."

 I pout to myself, already feeling awful before I even speak. "Losing my parents has been tougher than I thought it'd be."

 A lie.

 "I haven't been handling it well."

 Another lie.

 "I think I need more time to process the loss," I finish.

 And yet another lie.

 Losing my parents was more relieving than it was tough. The emotional detachment had already happened on that fateful night when I was seventeen. Hell, I stopped caring long before I left. So, losing them again wasn't as heartbreaking as one would expect. Any remnants of sadness are immediately directed toward the younger me, the little girl who just wanted to be loved and cared for.