Addicted (M)

Chapter 5: Cracks In The Armor

Avery's office felt quieter than usual as she walked in that morning, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above and the rhythmic clicking of her heels the only sound in the space. The rain had finally let up, but the storm clouds hung stubbornly in the sky, making the city look like a washed-out painting. She was still reeling from her session with Jadin the day before, the dark pull of his presence lingering like smoke in her mind.

Her fingers grazed the back of the chair before she sank into it, letting out a slow breath. Despite the fleeting sense of satisfaction she'd felt in the moment—making progress, breaking down the walls he'd built around himself—there was a gnawing uncertainty she couldn't shake. Jadin was different from the other patients she had treated. There was something beneath his eyes—something unreadable, dangerous even, but magnetic all the same.

She glanced at the small stack of paperwork on her desk. One file was conspicuously different—a manila folder, thicker than the rest. She hadn't noticed it when she'd first arrived. Avery's curiosity flared as she reached for it. The label was typed in bold, clinical font: Jadin Walker.

With one careful tug, the folder opened, revealing a series of incident reports, medical evaluations, and psychological assessments from the time Jadin had spent in a psychiatric hospital before he had been transferred to her care. The reports were disjointed—rushed, almost—as if no one could quite figure him out. Each one painted a picture of an increasingly unstable individual, one who seemed almost impervious to traditional treatments.

She flipped through the pages, her gaze flicking between the detailed notes and the increasingly ominous terminology. Violent outbursts. Aggressive behaviors. Restraint protocols. Her fingers froze on a page near the end, her breath catching in her throat as she read the last entry.

"Patient exhibited unusual calm following an altercation. Staff reported unexplained electrical surges in the ward, coinciding with the patient's behavior. Patient claimed no involvement but displayed an uncharacteristic smile during questioning."

Her skin prickled. Electrical surges? She skimmed the rest of the notes, but no further explanations came. The rest of the reports were typical—more incidents, more strange behavior—but nothing that provided clarity on what had caused those surges or why they might have happened. Avery felt a cold ripple of unease crawl down her spine. She had known from the start that Jadin was different, but this felt... otherworldly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp buzz of her phone vibrating on the desk. She glanced down, half-expecting to see Holly's name, but the number that appeared was unfamiliar. The area code was local, though. Hesitating for a moment, she picked it up.

"Dr. Weaver," she answered.

The voice on the other end was smooth, low, but carried an undeniable weight of authority. "Dr. Weaver. Detective Calloway. I'm investigating the incident involving Jadin Walker and his mother. I understand you've recently taken him on as a patient?"

Avery's heart skipped a beat. Her grip tightened on the phone, a sudden dread creeping over her. "Yes, that's correct. What can I help you with, Detective?"

"I'd like to speak with you. In person. Privately. There are... inconsistencies in the official reports that I think you should be aware of. Can you meet me tonight?"

She felt her stomach tighten. "Inconsistencies? What do you mean?"

Calloway's voice lowered, tinged with something unreadable. "Let's just say things aren't as simple as they seem. I'll text you the address. It's important you come."

Before she could respond, the line went dead, leaving her with only the echo of his warning in her mind.

Avery sat still for a moment, her gaze drifting back to the open folder on her desk. The reports, the strange incident with the electrical surges... everything about Jadin's case was beginning to feel like a puzzle with too many missing pieces. She knew she needed more answers. More than the medical evaluations could provide.

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The evening was colder than she expected as she parked in front of a small, dilapidated diner on the outskirts of town. The neon sign hummed above her, its glow a sickly red that seemed out of place against the darkening sky. Avery hesitated for a moment before getting out of her car, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement as she walked inside. The smell of burnt coffee and grease greeted her, and she winced, pushing the door open.

Detective Calloway was easy to spot—he was sitting alone in a booth near the back, nursing a cup of coffee, his stern expression not bothering to mask the exhaustion in his eyes. He looked up as she approached and motioned for her to sit.

"Dr. Weaver," he said, his voice as blunt as his appearance. "Thanks for coming."

Avery slid into the booth, her hands suddenly clammy. "What's going on, Detective? What are you trying to tell me?"

Calloway didn't waste time. He took a deep breath, leaning in slightly. "It's about Jadin. I've been following his case from the beginning. His mother's death—it doesn't add up."

Avery's pulse quickened. She hadn't heard the full details of the case, other than the headlines—violent outbursts, a mother murdered, Jadin as the only suspect. "What do you mean?"

"Jadin's mother was found dead in her apartment. The scene was... strange." Calloway's eyes flickered, as if considering how to explain it. "There were no signs of forced entry. No fingerprints on the weapon. No struggle. Just a lot of damage to the room. And something else—there were electrical burns on the walls. No explanation for it."

Avery's mind raced. "Electrical burns? From what?"

"That's the thing," Calloway said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Witnesses in the building heard something strange before the attack—a high-pitched whine, like a surge of power. And Jadin was found standing over his mother's body, calm. No blood on him. No signs of injury. But he confessed anyway."

Avery's breath hitched. "So, you're saying he's guilty? Even though there's no evidence?"

"I'm saying there's something off about him," Calloway continued, his eyes narrowing. "Something that doesn't show up in the reports. Something we can't explain."

He slid a folder across the table to her. Avery opened it slowly, her fingers trembling as she examined the contents. It was more detailed information about Jadin's past—other reports, other incidents that seemed far too strange to ignore.

"There's more," Calloway added quietly. "Other cases, other deaths with similar... anomalies. I can't prove it, not yet, but I need you to understand—there's more to this than you think."

Avery closed the folder, her mind swirling. "I don't know what you're asking me to do."

"I'm asking you to be careful, Dr. Weaver. Jadin's not like your other patients. You need to know that."

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As Avery left the diner that night, her mind felt heavier than it had all day. The detective's words haunted her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Jadin was hiding something—something far darker than she had imagined. She knew she was walking a fine line between wanting to help him and being sucked into his dangerous orbit.

She pulled into her apartment parking lot, her head throbbing, and sat there for a moment, staring at the city lights in the distance. Jadin wasn't just a patient. He was a mystery—a dark, unpredictable force that she had barely begun to understand.

The question was no longer if she could help him. It was whether she was willing to get pulled into whatever chaos he was hiding.