The camera’s set up and focused on her. She's sitting on the bed with her knees pulled into her chest. There’s a room upstairs full of clothes for her, yet she’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s far too large for her and a pair of men's blue flannel pajama pants. Something Jay must have left for her to wear. She's alone on a tiny ass mattress with nothing else in the room except a metal chair.

I let out a tortured breath and drag the chair across the room. The metal legs scrape on the cement floor, and the screeching only pisses me off. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I think about how I’ve canceled everything to be here. It’s like an obsession, picking at the back of my brain, the anxiety making my body tremble. But more than that, I’m curious.

I don’t know what exactly happened between them, but the way she looks at him and vice versa… I’m more than curious.

“How do you know Jay?” Robin asks me with her gaze still fixed on the sheet she’s balling up in her hand. She dares to lift those hazel eyes to me, and I take a moment to consider what I want to tell her.

“We met when we were kids,” I answer. I finally sit down a few feet away from the bed, but inside of the camera’s field. I swallow thickly. “He helped me,” I admit to her.

She picks at the sheet, but doesn’t look down. Tilting her head, she asks me, “Helped you with what?”

“I was adopted and it was hard for me, but Jay was,” I pause and clear my throat, remembering back to when we were kids. Both of us lost and feeling alone, feeling abandoned. “Jay was a good friend when I needed one.” I nod my head once and then look back at her, but I have to rip my eyes away. It doesn’t justify this.

“I see,” Robin says softly and it reminds me that she’s a shrink. A huff of a humorless laugh spills from my lips. “Are you analyzing me, Doctor Everly?” I ask her with humor in my voice, but she nods her head once.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she says in a soft voice, still picking at the sheet.

I try to swallow the spiked ball that’s formed in my throat, but I can’t. Instead I just talk. “I didn’t want to do this,” I tell her. “I’m afraid to not be here though.” I look her in the eyes when I say, “When I came back here this morning, I was scared that I’d find-”

I shake my head, unable to continue. It makes me less of a man to leave. Less of a man to leave Jay with her. But there’s something I don’t know. It’s like it’s right in front of my face, something I know deep down inside that says it’s all okay, that this is meant to happen like this.

“Jay doesn’t want to hurt me,” Robin says confidently, but then adds, “Maybe a small piece of him wants to. But I don’t think he would.”

I stare at her with wonder and ask, “Why would you give him the chance?” Her eyes narrow with pain and gloss over before she reaches farther onto the bed and pulls the sheets up to get comfortable.

“What do you know about me?” she asks me.

“You’re a psychiatrist,” I answer her. I almost add that I looked her up while she slept. That I know where she went to school and other details I was able to find online, but I shut my mouth. She’s already frightened, and I’m holding on by a thread. “Did you want to become a shrink because of what… what you went through?” I ask her. My heart aches for her as I search her eyes for answers.

I’ve felt bad for Jay for so many years. It’s why I could never leave his side. And I feel the same for her. Unabashedly so.

She shakes her head, her hair swishing over her shoulders as she looks past me and crosses her legs. She rocks slightly and says, “I wanted to go into law and make a difference, you know?” Her eyes find mine as her voice carries through the room.

“Law?” I nod my head and say, “I could understand that. I could see why you’d want to go that route.”

I can see the red blinking light of the camera reflected in her eyes as she stares at it for a moment, and then she licks her lips and looks back at me.

“I used to think that the worst thing you could see before you die was the eyes of your killer,” she tells me in a tone that’s chilling. “And I wanted to stop that.”

I take in an uneasy breath, rubbing the back of my neck and trying to ignore all the things Jay’s told me of his past. They almost feel real as the images flash before my eyes.

“But it’s not,” she whispers.

I turn to look at her, my hand stilling on my neck and then slowly moving to my lap.

“Now I think the worst thing would be to see someone running away, someone ignoring your screams. Someone who could help you, but didn’t.” Her eyes tear up again, and she shudders.

“I don’t think I could handle facing that,” she says and waits for me to respond.

I fail to find the right words to tell her. I know it hurt Jay, because he’s told me about the girl over and over.

“What else?”

“What else?” I ask her for clarification.

“What else do you know about me?” she asks.

“I know you were with him,” I tell her, my blood chilling at the memories. “You were with him for a little while.”

“For four months,” she says and her voice cracks. She swallows and brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Two days over, actually,” she says and smiles sadly. “I left him then,” she says but chokes on her words.

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her honestly. I can feel the emotions from her. The disappointment and regret. “Anyone would have run,” I add.

She nods, but her expression only turns more painful.

“So now you know why I’m doing this. But why are you?”

“I don’t trust him,” I tell her firmly. Surprisingly she simply nods, as if that’s a given.

“So he’s just a friend that you owe. Someone who’s helped you, someone who’s broken and fucked up and you feel like you need to help him to make sure he doesn’t hurt me?”

I nod once at her analysis of the situation. My chest feels tight, and I hate how I feel restrained and like a damaged man for giving him this.

“Yes,” I tell her and scratch the back of my neck as I consider how to word my next question right, but she cuts me off.

“What do you think of me?” she asks me, and it catches me off guard.

“What do you mean?”

She chews the inside of her cheek for a moment. “You know what happened.” Her eyes dart to the door at the sound of Toby laying against it and making the door thud. “You know that I’m…” She doesn’t finish, and instead she looks me right in the eyes and asks, “Do you think I’m crazy?”

My heart thuds in my chest, and I hesitate to answer. “I don’t know everything-” I try to finish, but she cuts me off.

“Yes you do,” she says quickly in a whisper. “I’ll tell you a secret, John. No one left that house with a sound mind.”