The Taste Of Revenge (War of Sins Book 1)

Noelle

'Your brother was worried, Noelle,' Dr. Chadwick, my new therapist, mentions as she reclines in her chair. She's a very beautiful woman in her early thirties, her blonde hair flowing down her back, her big honey eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she looks me up and down in that typical manner of hers—as if she could reveal all my secrets at once.

Maybe she can. After all, it's her job to make me talk. But right now, the mention of my brother alone doesn't make me very inclined to accommodate her.

'Did he tell you to give me more pills? Maybe cure the crazy in me faster?' I grumble under my breath.

'Don't say that. Your brother is just worried for you. You missed six appointments before he brought you here today. What happened?'

I shrug.

'I went for ice cream instead.'

I changed a number of therapists in the last year, and Dr. Chadwick is Cisco's latest attempt at making sure I know how crazy I am.

I cannot fault the woman though. For all my aloofness, she's been the epitome of calm and serenity for the past hour, trying to coax me into revealing all my secrets.

Too bad even I don't know them.

'Noelle,' she sighs. 'Your attitude is not helping. And I can't help you if you don't want to accept my help.'

'I'm not sure anyone can help me, Dr. Chadwick. That ship sailed a long time ago.'

'Don't talk like that. You're only twenty-two. You have your whole life ahead of you.'

'Then why do I feel so old?' I whisper, raising my gaze to meet hers. 'Why do I feel so much older than that?'

'Talk to me.' Her expression is one of kindness, and I find it hard to be mean to her when she's been nothing but sweet to me.

'I don't know what to say. I really don't,' I take a deep breath.

'Tell me about your husband,' she urges and I freeze. 'You never talk about him,' she continues.

My chest feels heavy, my entire body racked by pain as memories assault me.

'I don't like to talk about him,' I say softly, dropping my eyes to the floor.

'You were married at eighteen, right?' she probes, and I see that she won't be satisfied until she pries the information from my lips.

'Yes.' I answer curtly.

Maybe it will help if I talk about it. Maybe pretending to be detached will actually help me detach myself from it—from my past.

'How was he?'

I blink, rooted to the spot as the images from my wedding—my cursed wedding—dance before my eyes.

'He wasn't a nice man,' is all I say.

His face as he'd smirked at me resurfaces, his fingers fumbling with his belt while I'd backed away from him in fear.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to push the memory away. Still, my skin cannot forget. My scars cannot disappear. The pain—that bone melting pain—is still fresh in my mind.

'Noelle?' Dr. Chadwick's voice jolts me back to reality.

'He wasn't a nice man,' I repeat, adding more confidence to my voice.

She purses her lips, studying me.

'Why don't we switch this up a little,' she proposes, shuffling some of the papers in her lap. 'It says here that you have selective dissociative amnesia,' her eyes meet mine as she waits for me to continue.