Life without Pet wasn’t worth living.

Of course, I’d known that for a while. Ever since she stumbled into my life and showed me her everything.

It had only been two days and I was going stir-fucking-crazy. She’d left a gaping hole behind, but I kept my distance. I knew it was important for her to come back by herself. This time, I had no plans of dragging her back home. She needed to realize where she was supposed to be.

I blew off work, and spent the time alone digging. I needed to fucking know, and I was no closer to finding out who had abused her.

But then, on a rainy afternoon, I finally made some progress.

I had gotten Pet’s school records a few hours prior, and had been putting off going through them. I’d pulled on so many strings to get those files, but now that I finally had them, the prospect of what could be inside terrified me.

Finally, I poured myself a Scotch and sat down with my glass in hand, opening the heavy file.

Her name stared at me from the paper, offensive and inappropriate. She’d only ever been Pet to me.

I read through her file. Her grades had been average, though several tests she’d taken indicated a higher level of intelligence. There was nothing special in terms of disobedience, she’d been written down for being late here and there, but that was it.

Until I hit the jackpot.

A file from the school counselor, who had arrived at her school a year before Pet graduated.

It was brief, to the point, and eye-opening.

The notes the counselor had made on her were clear, words scribbled in tilted handwriting. They felt like bullets to my chest.

Impulsive.

Reckless.

Emotional.

Self-harm.

Anxiety.

Boredom.

Emptiness.

Unstable.

My Pet, in those barely legible scribbles that devaluated her from a person into a textbook case.

I got so angry I nearly tore the file into pieces. Instead, I set it down, and dug up some dirt on the school counselor on my phone.

Mr. Davies. Ezra Davies.

He was a middle-aged man. Handsome enough, according to my image search, not balding, either. Not that I should’ve given a shit, but Pet being in the company of a man like that, him analyzing her, trying to understand how her pretty mind worked… it set me right the fuck off.

I found his phone number and called without a second thought.

He was working as a therapist now. I got through to his secretary and faked my way into a meeting with Mr. Davies. I name-dropped my own name and she got me an appointment in the next hour. I got off the phone and grabbed my shit before heading to his office.

I tried not to think about my Pet, and where she could be, but fucking failed.

I made a quick call to someone I trusted to make sure she was fine, and headed out the door.

* * *

“Let’s be honest with each other,” Ezra Davies said with a smooth smile.

I shifted on his uncomfortable couch, wondering how he expected anyone to talk to him openly while sat on such a shitty piece of furniture.

“I’m an open book, Mr. Davies,” I told him, and he gave me a doubtful smile.

He’d let himself go since those pictures I’d seen were taken. He had a gut now, though he was still reasonably handsome. His shirt had pit stains on it, even though the AC was on in his office. He looked like he’d given up.

“I assume this isn’t really about supporting my small business,” he told me with a sly grin. “So why don’t you start by telling me exactly what you’re doing here, Mr. King.”

I hated the bastard. He was slimy.

“Well, I have a… personal interest in one of your former patients,” I said with a smile, and the man chuckled.

“I’m sure you know, Mr. King,” he said. “I am not at liberty to discuss my patients.”

“It was before you started working here,” I told him. “When you worked at Pine Hill High School.”

“Oh?” His brows shot up. We both knew exactly who I was talking about, yet he feigned ignorance. “And who might you be interested in, Mr. King?”

“Sapphire Rose Faye,” I said through gritted teeth. “She was a senior. Graduated half a year ago.”

“I remember her,” he said, and I wanted to punch his teeth out.

I bet you fucking do, prick. Bet you still jack off to her tight little ass every night.

I focused my gaze on the wedding ring on his hand, and he rubbed his fingers when he felt me staring.

“What would you like to know about Miss Faye?” he asked. “Of course, I am not willing to say too much, you understand.”

I glared at him, pulled a couple of hundreds from my pocket and laid them plainly on his desk.

“How about now?” I asked.

He made a semi-desperate grab for them. So business wasn’t going that well, then.

“Sapphire Rose Faye was a very troubled girl,” he said with a sigh, pocketing the cash. “Very pretty. Very aware of it. A very, very troubled girl she was.”

“Elaborate,” I said.

“She was a poster child for Borderline,” he said. “Of course, I wasn’t allowed to prescribe her medication, but I did my best to help with her situation.”

“Situation?” I asked, and my heart pounded painfully in my chest. Surely, she hadn’t told this monkey what had happened to her?

“She was a very dramatic girl,” he said. “Very… prone to lying.”

“That’s news to me,” I said.

“You better believe it,” he said, his tone almost patronizing. “She lied to me so often, Sapphire did. To the point where I didn’t believe a word she was saying.”

I wondered if we were even talking about the same girl.

“And how did you attempt to help her?” I asked him.

He sighed and stretched on his chair.

“In my expert opinion,” he started. “Sapphire was extremely troubled, and would not accept help.”

“What do you mean?” I stared him down.

“She refused to take my advice,” he said. “Refused to do what I said.”

“So?” I asked. “Doesn’t every teenager rebel?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But she refused to get better. She refused to admit to her own mistakes. The fact that she was mentally older than her age suggested.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I asked.

“She was seventeen at the time I met her,” he said. “Yet she didn’t act like a girl. She fought me on everything. It was like she was a combination of a petulant child and a know-it-all adult.”

“Your point?” My tone was cold.

“My point,” he continued, “I deemed her unfit to attend college.”

“You what?” I practically jumped out of my seat.

“I suggested to Sapphire, as well as her teachers, that she take a gap year,” he said. “She was unfit to be in school.”

“Did you ask her what she wanted?” I asked.

“She had some dreams of an Art History major,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Not realistic, given her situation.”

“So you fucking buried her academic career,” I sneered. “Did she apply to colleges?”

“She did,” he said simply, looking irritated. “It was my decision to deny those applications, in Sapphire’s best interests, of course. I explained all this to her.”

I was ready to knock him out, but I had more questions.

“You told her to take a year off,” I said, and he nodded. “What did her parents say to that?”

“They were not aware of my conclusion,” he said. “Sapphire dealt with it herself.”

So he fucking made her deal with his executive fucking decision. Way to be a fucking adult. Way to fucking help a seventeen-year-old with fucking Borderline.

“One last question,” I sneered, getting up from my seat. “I want to know why you keep talking about her in the past tense.”

He sighed and rubbed his temples, and I fantasized about dislocating his jaw.

“When Sapphire walked out of here,” he said. “She told me she would kill herself.”

“What?” I was left speechless.

“Of course, it was all part of her dramatic personality,” Davies said. “I knew it was an empty threat. However, the girl did disappear. He parents contacted me after, told me she was gone. All her friends, the school, everyone lost touch with her.”

“And you…” I just stared at him. “What the fuck did you do about that?”

“What could I have done?” he asked. “I’d done anything and everything I could have. She was an adult – on her own. My job was done.”

I walked around the bastard’s desk, pulled him from his seat, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

“You ruined an innocent girl’s life,” I spat in his face. “You convinced her she was overreacting.”

“Let go,” he wheezed.

“You told her she was being dramatic when she was looking for fucking help. Begging for it. You told a girl who’d been abused as a small child she was unfit to continue with her life.”

“I…” The fucker was turning purple.

“You ruined her fucking life,” I hissed. “Tell me one thing, Davies. Did you make a fucking move on her?”

The fear in his eyes told me everything. I fought every urge in my body so I wouldn’t snap his slimy neck.

“She acted older,” he choked out. “She was a fucking tease!”

I slammed him against the wall again before letting go. He doubled over, choking on his own breaths.

“She was a manipulator,” he got out. “The little bitch led me on.”

“You’re done,” I told him. “In this career, this city, this fucking country. Your life as you know it is fucking over.”

“Please,” he laughed. “You can’t touch me.”

“Watch me,” I spat out.

“Is she dead?” he asked, smoothing down his shirt and giving me a big grin. “Is this some kind of fucking vengeance thing? Little bitch finally offed herself like she threatened she would?”

I counted to three, stepped right up to him, and broke his arm in a single motion. His scream was ear-piercing, and he cried like a fucking pussy.

I twisted his arm uncomfortably and looked him in the eye.

“I want you to know,” I told him smoothly. “What’s going to happen to you is your own fault. And you fucking deserve it.”

I left him bawling on the floor of his office, and walked right past his hysterical secretary, and away from the emergency sirens pulling up on the curb.

It was a nine-block walk back home, and I practically ran the whole way.

It all made fucking sense. The way she’d isolated herself, cut off everyone who meant something to her. The dead-end jobs she worked, the non-existent friendships.

She was getting ready to end her life, gathering the courage to do it. She’d been planning to kill herself. That’s why she dropped off the face of the earth.

I dialed the same number I’d called before and barked into the phone.

“You found her yet? You fucking need to. Right now.”

I listed some locations off the top of my head, fighting the urge to smash my fist into a streetlamp.

“Fucking find her! NOW!”