Chapter 34 'Did anyone notice all the fucking roses?' Grey grumbles, sitting down on the end of Damon's bed. 'There's fresh roses everywhere. The damn classrooms, the bathrooms, the hall. They even put some in the fucking library.' 'Arthur is trying to send a message,' Damon answers while stroking my leg. We sprawled out with our backs against the wall. 'He's fucking with us, a warning because of the patients starting to riot.' The guys managed to break me out of my room yesterday once the sun went down. We stayed in constant communication until then, and even though everyone is still confined to their rooms, Grey makes a valid point. There's suddenly roses everywhere. Appearing out of the blue since yesterday, I can't help but agree with Damon. Whittingham knows we'd never stay separated, intentionally placing them around the facility for us to see. It's a message all right-we're still walking free but he's got something planned. But still... what's the deal with the fucking roses? Grey folds his arms. 'He's about to fuck around and find out when my fist caves in his face. Hell, maybe I'll do a Uno reverse and slice off his head like he had that asshole do to Teddy. I could wear it as a hat.' 'And hide that hair you think is so precious? Unlikely,' Theo speaks up from the corner, one leg pulled to his chest. The comment sends me into a fit of maniacal laughter. If I don't find humor in things right now, I may just slip into some abyss from all the mind fucks and games. Grey shoots an offended scowl at Damon, who too, is smirking at the comment. 'Don't be mad at me,' Damon shrugs, squeezing my knee. 'She's the one cackling like a hyena.' I straighten up, pushing his hand off me playfully. 'I beg your pardon. How is this suddenly my fault?' Damon cocks his head to the side with a smirk. 'You know I love it when you beg.' 'Of course that's all you choose to focus on,' I mumble. 'But at least I'm not a docile sheep now.' Shaking his head, he turns back to Grey. 'Did you find Christopher?' 'Yeah,' he confirms. 'Deep in a session with a patient who was screeching at a level that only bats can hear. Something about conspiracy and this place being a gimmick.' I shake my head. 'I hope Alexander gives him a raise for having to deal with all this bullshit.' 'He doesn't need a raise,' Damon says. 'A new personality maybe.' 'What's the time anyway? I have a session with him this morning,' I ask. Grey pulls out his cell. 'You've got about twenty minutes. I told Connor where you are so he can be the one to come collect you. We'll walk with you though.' 'You're not staying for my session though,' I point out. 'How else am I meant to dissect the clusterfuck that is my life if you're too busy taunting the psychiatrist.' 'Consider it training,' Grey grins. 'It's improving his skills.' I glance over at Theo. 'Are you still going to speak to Dr. Markel today?' We decided it was best to suss out the old man again. In conjunction with Dr. Smith's extra workload to help calm down the patients, Markel has been required to provide medicinal support. Though, I'm not entirely sure there's enough sedatives in the world to help regulate our nervous systems at this point. Theo nods toward Damon. 'We'll do it while you're in session. That way we're close by.' Twenty minutes later, the four of us plus Connor head to Dr. Smith's office. Christopher? I'm not entirely sure what to refer to him at this point. We're technically family but he's still my doctor. Wait, aren't doctors supposed to not treat family members? It doesn't matter. We're well and truly past the point of ethical practices. I bid the guys farewell, closing the door as their footsteps head down the corridor toward Dr. Markel's room. Sitting down across from Dr. Smith, the bags under his eyes stand out, business shirt unbuttoned at the top like he's been tugging at the collar. 'You look like shit,' I tell him politely. 'I feel like shit,' he replies without missing a beat. 'I slept in my office last night.' 'You could have used my room,' I shrug. 'It was empty.' Dr. Smith smiles. 'I figured as much. But I'm not going to invade your privacy. Also, I don't have the time to deal with Grey when he inevitably comes for my throat.' I tap the side of my neck. 'I see what you did there.' He relaxes with a laugh. 'How are you doing though?' 'I feel like I'm walking on eggshells, every second of every day,' I answer honestly. 'It's torture waiting for something to happen. Everything is outside of our control and people are spiraling.' 'Does it make you uneasy?' 'Yeah.' It's full of confidence, no hesitation. There's no point sugar coating it-it's not a donut. Clearing my throat, I elaborate. 'It reminds me of home. Not the good home, but the life I lived before. I wish I could take their pain away.' 'And what about your pain?' he questions sharply. 'I have three guys who love me for that. They make me feel so alive that I forget about the pain most of the time.' Dr. Smith's eyebrows furrow together in thought. 'That's a really amazing observation to make. You sound like you've accepted the idea of love.' 'Because it's not just an idea,' I mutter. 'They actually love me. How could I deny that?' 'But do you feel worthy of it?' 'Yes,' I answer straight away. 'I do.' He leans back in his chair, cupping his hands together. A smile crosses his face, confusing me. 'What?' I press. 'Think about it,' he says, rolling his hand. 'You feel worthy. That's huge, Avery.' 'I-' How do I respond to that? When did it happen? Somewhere along the line, I fell head over heels for these three guys, accepting it completely. I never believed it was conditional, attached with a price tag. I've never felt used or less than anything. 'They make me feel that way,' I mumble, awkwardly shifting in my spot. 'They forced me to believe it until one day I just did, I guess.' Dr. Smith beams at me. 'I had a feeling it would happen.' 'Because I was so desperate to be loved that I greedily accrued multiple partners to fill the mass void in my chest?' I snort sarcastically. 'I think they each bring out different parts of you.' Like each part fits together to make one piece. Maybe I was too broken, in many pieces that I needed more than one part to be put back together. I think that's why I tried to fight it. To hide it. I never thought that even one person could love me-all of me, broken shards and fragments-but they did. Yet, at every turn I expected them to walk away. Every time I started to feel happy, there was a voice in my head that told me to push them away. Because people leave. Everyone leaves. They leave me. That mindset nearly cost me everything with Grey. I should have just spoken up about my fears, confided in him and given him the opportunity to reassure me. Instead, I broke his heart because I couldn't figure out how mine worked. I'm just so thankful we found our way back and made this work. The four of us together, we fit. Four broken pieces with jagged edges, sharp enough to cut, but somehow, we piece together perfectly. 'They do bring out different parts of me. But I don't think any of us could have seen this coming,' I muse. Dr. Smith shrugs one shoulder. 'I had a suspicion that you and Damon would become more to each other.' 'Bullshit,' I laugh. 'We hated each other when I arrived months ago. He only tolerated me because of Grey. God, he threatened to kill me on more than one occasion.' 'Murder threats is Damon's love language,' Dr. Smith jokes. 'But in all seriousness, Avery-you are so much like Aunt Lily. Always trying to please everyone while fighting silent demons. You see the good in people, often when it's well hidden.' 'I think I just see the good as a way to convince myself that they won't hurt me,' I admit. He nods. 'Definitely. It's a survival strategy, conceived by your mind. And also if you can make someone good, have them prove to be different than who they proclaim to be, then it will validate in your mind that not everyone is like your father.' Ouch. I hate to agree with him but he's making way too much sense for a Thursday morning. 'So...' I start slowly. 'I basically forced them all to fall in love with me for validation. And secretly they are walking red flags that I overlooked to prove a point?' Dr. Smith cocks an eyebrow. 'Interesting theory but I'm inclined to disagree. You're missing one key factor here.' 'What's that?' 'You.' I jolt back, confused. 'Me? Where do I fit into this equation?' He smiles again. 'You think you forced them to fall for you, to put up with this dynamic,' he says, using air quotes. 'But have you stopped to consider the possibility that you perhaps helped heal them?' Blinking, I become speechless. Now he's talking trash for sure. I haven't healed anyone. If anything, I've probably activated a gene in their bodies to turn their hair prematurely gray and provide daily doses of anxiety. 'Maybe,' he interjects when I don't reply. 'You also wanted to save them like you feel they saved you, because you harbor some guilt about past things outside your control.' 'My mom... Paige?' I answer weakly. Dr. Smith's lips purse to fight against a frown. 'Your father too. Because if you can save someone from their demons, that little inner child feels safe again.' Something jerks me out of my trance. I realize it's a tear sliding down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. 'This is a bit too personal right now,' I laugh jokingly, attempting to deflect. 'There are patients out there with real problems-like psychopaths leaving roses everywhere and dumping patients in ice water. The goddamn roses, am I right?' 'Avery.' He leans forward, forcing me to look at him. 'Everything you feel is valid, regardless of the situation. You should be so proud of how far you've come. Look at what you told Meg-you said you were happy and have a real family now. That you're not the person who walked through those doors. Give yourself some credit-you've come so far, and while doing that, you've become a strong woman who is trying to free everyone. Plus,' he laughs. 'You did the unthinkable-you made Damon fall in love.' 'Yeah, well... being trapped in caskets will do that,' I murmur quietly. 'Forced proximity and all.' 'What?' 'What?' I repeat, cursing myself as I play stupid. The two of us stare at each other, Dr. Smith appearing increasingly concerned and confused. Quickly, I change the subject. 'So, why do you call Margie, Meg?' That appears to do the trick as he becomes flustered slightly, tugging at his collar. 'Well, her name is Margaret. It's a nickname,' he chokes out. 'You like her,' I laugh. 'Ooh, she makes you nervous.' 'No, she doesn't,' he argues back. 'It's just warm in here.' 'Sure,' I tease, folding my arms. 'Whatever you say, Chris.' His stunned face looks as though he's been slapped by a fish. Snorting, I nod toward the chessboard that's been sitting ignored since the beginning of our session. 'Do you want to play?' 'Do you remember the rules?' He asks, glancing at the board. 'Yeah,' I confirm softly. 'Protect the King, right? That's what you were telling me along, isn't it? Protect Damon?' Dr. Smith's eyebrows shoot up. 'Like I said-I had a feeling you'd be special to him. Or at least hoped someone could knock him down a few pegs.' 'I'm going to tell him you said that,' I mock, sliding off my chair to the floor as he grabs the chessboard and places it on the ground. 'No secrets between spouses.' 'Except when it comes to Wills,' he mutters knowingly. I hum in agreement. 'And marriage licences apparently. Or is that just our new cousin thing?' Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!