Romantic love story

Chapter Eighteen: A Safe Place for Madison

The knife. The moment she finished her second hot dog, Madison remembered the knife she'd hidden in the upstairs bathroom. Her happiness tip-toed away.

She had cut herself Saturday night, and now, here it was Monday, and she'd already done it again. This time it was worse. She didn't have to take another look at her wounds to know that. It hurt worse than last time, and the fact she'd done it again so soon, probably didn't help.

Stupid, stupid idiot. Can't you stop hurting yourself?

Discouragement sank the last of her hunger, and she put down the third hot dog. Why couldn't she stay happy for a little longer? What was wrong with her? Terry had liked his present and that had sent her over the moon with joy. Now, she felt as though she were in a night with no moon at all.

"Maddie?"

She looked up, saw the concern in Terry's face and realized she was still crying.

Terry put down his food. "Is it your hip?"

"No."

"Then what is it? You're in pain-- I know you are, I saw you moving around in the store."

"Please, Terry..."

"Please, what?" Terry heaved a sigh, leaned back in his chair and stared at her. "I'll do everything in my power to help you, but I have to admit, I'm in over my head. You need help. What I'm doing isn't enough."

"Do I have to leave?"

"Did I say that?" He gave her a mild look of reproof. "I'm not giving up, okay? I just think you need more help than I alone can give. I know I've mentioned this before, but I'd like to take you to a friend of mine-- a psychiatrist."

She said nothing.

"His name is Dr. Jacoby. He's a professing Christian, and he's been a good friend to my family. I trust him."

"Terry, I can't."

"He won't hurt you, Maddie."

"I can't." She pushed away from the table, and pain winced through her belly as she stood. "Don't make me. You can't make me."

"Maddie, calm down."

"I'll run away if you make me-- I will, I swear I will."

"Maddie, sit down."

"I won't."

"Maddie." Terry nodded to the chair.

She sat down.

"If you want to leave, then I won't stop you. I will try to talk you out of it, though." Terry folded his arms. "You need to stay, and you need Dr. Jacoby's help."

"You can't make me."

"That's true-- I can't." Terry leaned forward, reached across the table and lightly touched warm fingers to her wet cheek. "Please, Maddie. You aren't getting better. You're so pale, so delicately fierce, I'm afraid you'll die before my eyes and there won't be a thing I can do to stop it from happening."

The memory of her fearing if she passed out after cutting herself that day, that she might die, came back and haunted her.

God, please help me! she cried in silence.

"Maddie, I can't bear to watch you in so much pain." His hand withdrew, but his eyes continued to plead.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" She swallowed hard. "Do you think I'm insane and that's why I need a psychiatrist?"

"No," Terry paused, as though trying to pick his words carefully. "I think you've been hurt and you need someone to help you work things out. And then there's that--" he nodded to her belly. "You keep reaching for your stomach, and I'm beginning to think that's what's causing your pain tonight. Did you tell your doctor about that pain, or did it come after your last visit?"