Quinn Bailey Must Die

p5

The first thing Tara does when Sam closes the door is tighten her shoulders and barge into Sam's bedroom.

You follow, hastily.

Watch as she reaches for Sam's clothing rack and tries to pry the lot off the rack and onto the floor.

"Tara, stop." You grab her hand as Sam's jackets crumple to the ground.

"Don't, babe," Tara says, her voice sharp, "This is all going in the dumpster. Don't try and stop me."

"She'll be back in a week," You protest, "She's going to need this stuff."

"I don't care," Says Tara, rounding on you, "She can walk around naked for all I care. She's picking Quinn over me. Her own sister."

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?" You ask, voice quiet, "We did go behind her back and try to seduce... whatever Quinn is to her. It makes sense she wants space."

"She's done this before," Tara growls, "When she was fifteen. She picked her deadbeat boyfriend over us. Over me."

Before you can stop her she's pried Sam's cluster of picture frames off her dresser and into a trash can.

You sigh.

And let her tear through Sam's room like a Doberman off the leash. You'll fix it yourself tomorrow.

You sink into Sam's mattress and watch your girlfriend.

Her hands are shaky. Her eyes are watering, though you know she's too proud to let the tears fall in front of you.

She's hurting.

"Why don't we call Dr Colmann?" You suggest, voice gentle, "She always makes you feel better, babe."

"I have to finish this tonight," Says Tara, "As long as her shit's in here, I won't be able to sleep."

You bite your lip.

"Let's call Dr Colmann," You suggest, "And if you still want her stuff gone after the call, I'll help you myself."

Dr Colmann had given you her personal number for Tara related emergencies.

"Tara is a special client," Dr Colmann had answered after you'd raised an eyebrow, "And I want to make sure you can come to me if you need it."

You had never used it.

Until now.

"Dr Colmann?" You ask, a little anxious.

You'd finally convinced Tara to sit, and firmly planted yourself in her lap so she can't get up and continue her tirade through Sam's room.

"We need your help."

-

It's a little after twelve in California, and Dr Colmann looks as if she's just gotten back from the gym.

You apologize - taking a work call on a Sunday afternoon seems criminal. Even if it's your only option.

But Dr Colmann doesn't seem to mind.

"What's going on, Tara?" Asks Dr Colmann, "You seem a little on edge."

You rub her back.

Press the softest of kisses to the side of her head.

"My sister is abandoning me," Tara says, voice a little fraught.

"She's leaving for a week," You correct, hastily, "We had a small disagreement."