Speak Now

Prologue

Dr Barden looked at me over the rim of his glasses, giving me that familiar look that told me I was crazy. Having been in his office more times than I can count on one hand, I was used to Dr Barden's idiosyncrasies, not that I particularly appreciated any of them, but the one I hated the most was the one he bestowed upon me now. 

"Martha-"

I scoffed. "Here comes the lecture."

"Well, I think we know each other well enough that I can be honest with you," the psychiatrist smiles fondly at me. It's true, of course, that we have known each other for many years now and in that time, Dr Barden is the only one who tells me it as it is, no sugar coating the truth. That doesn't mean that I always listen to him and take his advice on board, though. Closing the file he has perched on his knee, he sets it down on the little table that's to the side of his chair and places his glasses on top. "The twenty-eight days aren't up yet and to leave now, in the middle of the programme, would be counterproductive. Recovery from addiction is a delicate process and I just don't think we've had a breakthrough yet. Please, a few more days and then we can discuss it a little more."

Shaking my head, I look out the full-length window to the garden outside, watching Dr Barden's patients as they undertook one of the therapy classes offered here. It took me months to find this place and the fact that they had so many complementary therapies was the biggest selling point; art classes, music classes, equine therapy... they all seemed so hokey on paper but the second I came here, I knew that this was exactly the place I'd been waiting for. 

Nestled away amongst the mountains of Colorado, The Barden Clinic was one of the best-kept secrets among the Hollywood elite. It was the go-to place for anyone with an addiction or mental health challenges and the success rate was phenomenal. It was so far removed from the 'triggers' in LA that it just had to work. Since I found this place three years ago, it's been somewhere that I've relied upon, turning to Dr Barden when things got really tough. 

And things got tough frequently. 

James Saylor isn't the easiest person to be invested in but after a particularly messed up few months back in twenty-nineteen, I knew that his drug use was off the charts and it wasn't something that I could continue to hide any longer. I'd begged him to seek treatment but he insisted that he was 'fine' and he didn't need to go to rehab. Whenever I asked him to consider it, he's sing, "No, no, no," at me like it was funny. It wasn't funny at all. Especially after he OD'd and I'd spent the night in the hospital, sick to my stomach about whether or not he'd ever wake up. After he did, he said that he just wanted to go home, back to Los Angeles, back to his old habits. 

I agreed but under the condition that he only had one more chance. I was through making excuses for him, lying to people for him. The next time I see him drugged up off his face, he would have two choices: either the drugs or me. If he chose the drugs, I was gone. If he chose me, he'd get help.