“HI, MY NAME is Doctor Bryan. I will be monitoring your first visit with Micah Huntly,” he reported clinically, his eyes critically assessing my attire.
Laurina had insisted that dressing down would be a mistake; I’d gone for a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeve top, paired with a pair of sneakers. I’d opted for that outfit over Laurina’s glamorous suit. While I wanted to impress my adviser, I thought it would be less intimidating for Micah. Was I regretting it now? Maybe a tiny bit.
“Yes, I’m Emerson Monsoon. I’ve brought his file along with me,” I replied, shaking off my nervousness.
“I have to admit I feel bad that you’ve been paired with him. We haven’t been able to get through to him so it’s unlikely you’ll be able to either,” he replied as we stepped into the elevator.
I swallowed not knowing how to reply to that, so I didn’t.
“The kid’s a lost cause, he’s wasting government resources being here. But at least now that you’ll be taking over his weekly appointments that will allow me to spend more time with other patients who show some actual promise of getting better,” he droned on.
“I’m happy to help,” I replied awkwardly, looking down at my feet because if I looked at him I might just show him how much he disgusted me. No one should ever give up on a little kid no matter what. When you’ve given up on yourself you need someone else to fight for your will to live until you are strong enough to do it yourself. Katia had been that person for me, and if this little boy allowed me to, I’d be that person for him.
“Now there’s a couple of things I need to run past you before you meet him,” Doctor Bryan advised as we stepped out of the elevator and walked down a long, gloomy hallway. My mind flicked back to Zaston Institution and I was unable to prevent a shiver.
“You’re not going to run, are you?” Doctor Bryan asked, having caught sight of it.
“No,” I denied strongly.
“Good, because if you can’t stand it out here, there’s no way you’re going to last a second in there with him,” he pointed to the room he’d stopped at.
“I’m staying. What were those things you needed to run past me?” I asked, determined to show that I was committed to my patient.
“I can see your stubborn determination to succeed, even though it won’t be able to help you in this situation,” he critiqued negatively. “Micah is a challenging boy, for want of a better word, as I’m sure you’ve read in his file, he is isolated from the other children but the reason why is because of his temperamental behavior. One second he’s calm and quiet, the next he’s breaking things, out of control. He was scaring the other children so we decided to separate him. His behavior has markedly improved but not past the point of being aloof and unresponsive when he’s spoken to or addressed. The medication has helped but we believe that it’s his trauma that is getting in the way of his recovery, and until we know exactly what happened to him—if we ever will—we will be unable to offer him the psychological treatment he requires.”
“Could the medication be the reason why he’s unresponsive?” I asked, knowing that its numbing effects were two sided in nature. On one hand being numb blocked out the pain, but on the other hand it stunted your ability to feel and deal with the pain. Then again, I wasn’t sure it would ever really go away, I was still trying to work it out myself.
“Please don’t tell me you’re some naturopath who believes in the medicinal healing capacities of the Earth and the trees,” he groaned, his features turning ugly with revulsion.
“No,” I refused. “All I’m saying is maybe now that his condition has somewhat stabilized maybe he should be given another chance to normalize in order to begin addressing his trauma. Or maybe his medication should be reduced with time so he can slowly acclimatize and ease himself back into facing his demons,” I recommended fervently.
“That’s enough, Miss Monsoon,” he responded forcefully. “You are not a trained psychologist, you’re a student, and while I appreciate your passion, your advice is very much out of order. Do not lecture me on things that you do not even understand,” he added cuttingly.
I took a deep breath trying to ease my discomfort under the heavy pressure of his displeasure. His eyebrows rose as he waited for me to reply. My nails bit into my hands as I realized just what he was waiting for me to say. He wanted me to speak words that would result in a painful loss of my dignity.
Digging deep for strength I looked him in the eye unflinchingly. “I apologize, Mr. Bryan,” I swallowed trying to get the rest out, “It won’t happen again.”
He smiled, obviously satisfied with my disingenuous apology.
“One of your redeeming qualities, Miss Monsoon, is knowing when to admit that you are wrong,” he commented drily.
But he was wrong; I was just smart enough to pretend to be defeated in the face of his arrogance. I didn’t have power around here, he did. This program meant way too much to me to lose out on it over my own pride.
“I accept your apology,” he said with such grace, “but see that your defiance doesn’t ever happen again. Unlike you, I do not have such a forgiving nature. Now back to business…as I was trying to say earlier, you need to be stern and unbending with Micah, do not let him intimidate you with his silence. Stand your ground, try and get him to speak and if you can’t, like every other psychologist before you including me, then try and get your professor to reassign you to another patient. I’ll support you if you choose to take that path. Got it?”
I wanted to roll my eyes really badly but I held back. Just.
“Yes,” I conceded, “But I won’t be giving up. I’ll be staying up until the very end of the program.”
He laughed his disbelief, making me clench my teeth hard. Luckily the sound wasn’t audible.
“Only time will tell,” he replied, regaining his composure. He then slid out his security pass and swiped the door, pushing the door so it was slightly ajar. “Now go in, he’s expecting you.”
“Wait,” I whispered trying to make sure Micah wouldn’t hear my desperation. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay?”
“No,” he smiled enjoying my distress. “There’s an emergency button in every room, the big red one, you can’t miss it, if you feel uncomfortable press it. The security guards will come barging in there in under thirty seconds. You’ll be fine, just try not to screw the kid up even more. You’re on your own, Miss Monsoon. Like I said, if you can get him to speak to you, that alone would be a miracle. He hasn’t spoken one word since he got here.”
“But, Doctor Bryan, I need you to assess me. It’s a required component of my university program,” I spoke up as he turned away.
“Do you really want me to sit observing you, while you observe him when I can be helping others?” he questioned scathingly, his tone flaying me.
I swallowed and gave him the only honest answer I could, “No.”
“Good, then we’re on the same page. I’m sorry, you should just accept that there are ten students who will make it through the program, and unless you ask to be reassigned because of the patient you’ve been given you won’t be one of them.”
“We’ll just have to see about that,” I whispered under my breath as he strode off arrogantly. I’d put my hand out to stop the door from closing but I just needed a second to pull myself together.
He’s just a kid, I thought encouragingly to myself. I could do this. No, I had to do this for myself and for Katia. Taking strength from my promise to Katia, I pushed the door open surprised by just how bare Micah’s room was.
It looked practically empty. As I crept in farther I saw Micah seated with his back to me at a single desk, in one of the two chairs available in his room. Save for Micah’s bed there were no personal belongings. Everything was white, pristine, and impersonal. It was no fit place for anybody to live, let alone a little kid. My heart ached for him; he was trapped in a world with no love, happiness, or laughter, just emptiness.
“Micah?” I murmured trying to gain his attention so as not to frighten him. ‘I’m Emerson; I’m here to get to know you, to understand how you’re feeling. I want us to be friends and I know you don’t trust me now, but I’m hoping in time we can both trust each other enough to open up,” I coaxed.
I walked closer, feeling anxious that I’d said or done something wrong. When he didn’t respond but as his face finally came into view I gasped in shock. There was a piece of paper in front of him and a drawing pencil beside it but it was blank and untouched. But that wasn’t what scared me, it was his eyes. He was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Not in a way that indicated he was ignoring me. It was so much worse because his blue eyes were practically lifeless.
It was like he’d given up. The light was in his eyes but just barely.
I swallowed then decided to try and interact with him again. I went to sit in the seat next to him, but before I could even place a hand to pull it out, Micah’s hand shot out and pushed the chair until it was flush against the table. His head hadn’t moved but the violent outburst was enough to warn me to back off.
I took a step back understanding that what I had done was wrong. I’d taken liberties without asking and I’d moved too fast for him. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I cursed. I had to fix the breach of trust.
“I’m sorry, Micah, I shouldn’t have done that, this is your place and what you want goes. If you don’t want me to sit there then I won’t. But I’m not going to leave. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me. But each week, on this day and at this time, for an hour I’m going to be visiting you. Is it okay if I take a seat on the floor?” I asked.
Met by stone cold silence, but silence nonetheless, I took that as his consent.
“Thanks,” I said as I slouched against the wall then slid down to the floor, crossing one leg over the other ready to stay for the long haul, or rather for the next forty-five minutes. I was sure Micah would be counting down the seconds.
“My dad says I’m the most stubborn person in the world. Once I set my mind to something I refuse to give up,” I said conversationally. “Buddy, you don’t have to like me being here, but I can take whatever you have to dish, your anger, your disappointment, your frustration, everything and anything. You’re silent now but one day you’re going to blow, and when that happens I’ll be here to listen. So, we can just sit here in silence until you’re ready to talk,” I said obstinately.
Micah didn’t reply but I could have sworn I saw his head tilted slightly toward me like he was absorbing what I’d said. I didn’t expect him to believe me now. Why would he? Only with time could I prove myself to be someone worth confiding in.
For the remaining thirty minutes of my visit I sat on the floor not moving or talking.
He needed to be the one to break the silence because in doing so he would be breaking his silence. I got the feeling that it was his way of punishing himself. He hadn’t been separated because he simply couldn’t control his temper; he’d done it so he could be isolated and kept away from others. Maybe it was because he was scared of hurting them somehow?
I could taste his guilt in the atmosphere. I wanted to know what he’d done that was so bad that would make him think that he was a danger to others. I could be completely wrong but there was something to my theory that rang true within me.
“Morning visiting hours will be over in five minutes’ time,” a voice blared from a speaker.
“Looks like we’re done for today. Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone,” I teased. Micah, of course, didn’t respond, he was still doing his statue impersonation.
I left his room then went to reception where I handed over my security access card all the while strategizing. If Micah wouldn’t talk I would have to find some other way of getting him to communicate with me. I smiled as I thought of a way. Maybe instead of getting him to talk I could get him to show me how he felt. I cooked up the plan in my head and felt myself growing more confident of its success.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I drew it out then looked at the dialer, feeling disappointed when I saw that it wasn’t Mystery Guy. It was an unknown caller.
“Hi, this is Emerson Monsoon speaking,” I answered.
“Good Morning, Miss Monsoon, this is Professor Edwards,” the velvety smooth, male voice identified. A jolt of concern went through me. As far as I was aware there was no reason for him to be calling me.
“Is there something wrong?” I immediately fired.
“Your adviser, Doctor Bryan, rang me voicing his concerns about your patient and intimated that you would like to be reassigned to a new patient . . .”
How dare he jeopardize my placement in the program! I thought while shaking with fury.
“No,” I said confidently, not a trace of anger in my voice. “While I appreciate Doctor Bryan’s concern I do not want to be reassigned to another patient. Micah Huntly might not know it but he needs me. I’m going to make sure he gets better,” I swore.
“Good, because I was just about to tell you that there will be no reassignment. Each patient has been carefully screened personally by me and I wouldn’t have assigned them to mere novices if I didn’t believe that each and every single one of them couldn’t be helped by any one of my students,” Professor Edwards lectured.
“Of course, Professor, I intend to fully commit to my patient’s recovery,” I stressed, not wanting him to think about scrapping me from the program.
“What is your prognosis on your patient?” he asked, moving away from discussion of reassignment to my relief.
“I believe that Micah has extensive trauma. I believe that it wasn’t a singular event in his past that led to his trauma but a continuous assault. His scars run deep, and I think that he feels responsible, like somehow his trauma was the result of his own doing. He almost welcomes his isolation, as if he’s a danger to everyone. I wasn’t able to get him to respond to me, but I believe that with time trust can be built,” I assessed.
“Very insightful, Miss Monsoon. I can see that I have paired Mr. Huntly with the right person,” he praised.
I smiled, feeling more confident now that he had placed his faith within me. My smile then dropped as I wondered why Micah was the way he was.
“Who hurt him? I checked the visitor’s records before I saw him and I didn’t see anyone with the last name of Huntly written in them. Why hasn’t any of his family come to see him?” I asked eagerly.
“Now, Miss Monsoon, you know I can’t answer any of those questions,” he admonished gently.
“I understand, my curiosity got the better of me. I’ll find the answers to them myself,” I promised, and not only because I needed to wield successful results, but because I wanted Micah happy and weightless, just like any other kid his age.
“JAREK, HAVE YOU had any success tracking down Felix Ulrich? I haven’t been able to find a single trace of him,” I shared with frustration over the phone.
“No, it’s like he’s a ghost. Mikhail has even asked his sources from the dark web. If even they can’t find him then that means he’s being hidden by someone with power,” Jarek replied.
“Or he is no longer alive,” I added derisively. “Well, if we can’t locate him then we should refocus our attention on someone we can find that will help Ethan Vasco’s case.”
“Like on the witness who has come forward,” Jarek suggested, echoing my thoughts. “But how exactly is that person meant to help his case?”
“I believe Ethan Vasco, which means that the witness is lying. I want to find out why. I can hack into the Department of Justice’s records; the witness is probably under witness protection pending the trial. The witness would have to be close to Ethan with him being under lock and key with his monitor bracelet and the detectives trailing him all the time. It will take some time though,” I mused.
“How long?”
“I’d say a solid three to four hours,” I estimated.
“So then do you want us to be ready to move tonight?” Jarek inquired with anticipation.
“Yes, but keep Sev on standby. There’s no reason for anybody to get hurt, including the witness. We keep it clean and make sure that none of this blows back on Alexei or Ethan. Got it?”
“Got it. And I guess this means Mikhail is no longer on research duty…he can join in on the action?”
“We need him so that leaves me with no choice. Make it clear that he’s on probation, I’m not sure he’s gotten all the anger under control, but it’s only fair we give him a chance,” I said, withholding the passing of judgment.
“I’ll let him know. Sev won’t be happy being sidelined,” Jarek commented which was only fair since he’d be the one passing on the news to Sev.
“He won’t like it but he’ll understand,” I replied, ending the call. Sitting down at my desk at Grigoriy Chambers I rolled my neck and shoulders then got to work on hacking.
MY PHONE BUZZED but this time when I saw who was calling I chose not to answer it. It vibrated again indicating I had a voicemail. I sighed, wanting to ignore it, but if there was one thing I knew about my estranged mother it was that she refused to be ignored. So instead I opted to listen to it.
“Hi, honey. Your father told me you are studying at Thorne University. I don’t know if you’re aware but I live only forty minutes away from you. Isn’t that just a crazy coincidence how close we are to each other? We have to meet up! Please give me another chance. I also want you to meet my new man; you’ll love him. I want to see you and for myself make sure you’re okay especially since your father is three hours away. I’ve respected your privacy but as your mother I need you to know that I am here for you and that you can lean on me. Please give me a call back, I’ll free up my schedule for whenever you’re free and I’ll meet you wherever you want.”
I brought the phone away from my ear as the voicemail ended, not sure what to think. I never thought she would continue to make the effort to try and be in my life again after I’d been released from Zaston Institution.
Since she’d obviously moved on from the idea of reconciliation with my dad, maybe this meant she’d been truthful with her intentions of reconnecting with me all along. I still felt a huge amount of doubt and distrust, but maybe I owed it to myself to give her a shot?
Unsure of what to do I decided to ring Doctor Fleur instead of doing the usual run around whenever she made her weekly call.
“Emerson Monsoon, are you really calling me or has someone stolen your phone? I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that you were the caller on my phone,” Doctor Fleur answered with genuine shock.
“It was an accident,” I lied.
“Don’t hang up!” she ordered.
“Fine, we might as well get our weekly appointment over and done with,” I said, trying to mask my own intention to ask her for advice.
“How have you been doing? Are you still having the nightmares?” she inquired professionally.
“Yes, the same one every time. I know it seems like I haven’t made any progress, and before you tell me I should be taking the pills I think I’ve begun to make some leeway with the whole unable to be touched problem.” I smiled through the phone.
“Wait. Just hold on a minute. Is that actual uncontrived happiness I hear in your voice? It can’t be!” Doctor Fleur cried.
“It might be,” I shared secretively.
“Have you met someone? Have you been intimate with that someone?” she interrogated.
“I have met someone. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. He challenges me and pushes me past my boundaries. And no, but I want to be,” I admitted self-consciously. I hadn’t ever said that out loud and if felt freeing. I’d also chosen to leave out the whole ‘I was practically paying him for his services’ part, otherwise she’d declare me to be mentally unfit here and now!
“That is huge. All I want to say is take it really, really slow. You must trust him a lot in the first place to let him get past your walls, but if you aren’t ready then don’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. Have you told him about what happened to you?”
“Not really. I mean he knows that something happened to me, that someone hurt me, but I couldn’t really tell him anymore than that when it’s still all a mystery to me,” I admitted. I had also left out the part of being locked up at a mental institution.
“So you still don’t remember anything?” Doctor Fleur asked.
“My mother rang me,” I broke in, unable to hold it in any longer.
“Ah, Emerson, you didn’t call me by accident, did you? No, don’t bother answering that, I already know the answer. What did she call you about?” she asked, donning her psychologist, clinical voice.
“To meet up with her, she told me she lives near Thorne University. The thing is, I don’t know if I should,” I replied, feeling really torn.
“What are you scared about?”
“That she’ll leave me again. It really hurt the first time. I thought she’d left because I wasn’t enough to make her stay. A part of me still does believe that. I thought she only came back when I was hurt to be with my dad but it seems like she really does want to be part of my life again. I just don’t want her to hurt me again,” I confessed.
“I guess what you really need to ask yourself is whether you think the possible hurt could be worth the pain. When I ask you this next question I want you to be impulsive, don’t think, just answer, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Would you regret not giving her this chance?”
Without even knowing I was going to say it, I whispered, “Yes.”
“Then I guess you have your answer. Call her or message her now and tell her you’ll meet up with her. Don’t wait because you might just change your mind. You’ve been honest with yourself and you need to do this before you allow your fear of getting hurt stop you,” Doctor Fleur instructed.
“Okay, I will,” I answered with conviction. She was right, I had to do this or I’d always wonder what if.
“And, Emerson, no matter what happens down the line you need to know that a daughter doesn’t need to be good enough to make her mother stay. It’s the mother’s job to be good enough to stay and to always protect, love, and cherish her daughter, especially when she’s vulnerable,” she stressed.
“Is that your personal or professional opinion?” I quipped to hide how I felt. My dad and I had never spoken about it. The morning she’d left I’d asked my dad where she’d gone…the pain I’d seen in him made me never ask that question again. It had been the first time I’d seen him break down and cry in front of me.
I had planned on never letting it happen again. But the second time had been beyond my control. When I’d woken up in the hospital after I’d been assaulted, the first thing I had heard were muffled sobs. The first thing I had seen was him doubled over, his body shaking so hard, making the bed I was lying on shake, too. And the first thing I’d felt was how hard he’d been clutching my hand like he’d never let me go again.
So hearing someone else tell me that I hadn’t been the one to cause him to hurt like that eased some of the heaviness of my lingering self-doubt which had never really gone away, even when I’d grown older.
“It’s okay to feel relief in the knowledge that it wasn’t your fault she left, Emerson,” Doctor Fleur laughed, correctly identifying the reason for my deflection.
“Thanks, Doctor Fleur. I know I’ve never really said it or shown it before but you’ve helped me a lot, even when I didn’t want you to.”
“Is this your way of trying to get out of talking to me again? Because if it is, it isn’t going to work!” Doctor Fleur warned.
“Of course, it is, did you really think I meant what I said?” I lied, self-mockingly.
“All jokes aside, I’m happy you’re happy, Emerson. You deserve to be. Now make contact with your mother. I’ll call you next week,” she promised as she ended the call.
Biting down nervously on my lower lip I decided to text my mother, I wasn’t up for having a deep and meaningful conversation with her just yet. I also didn’t want to meet her anywhere near my dorm room or on campus. So that left neutral ground for a meet up, possibly a restaurant.
I want to give you another chance. Would you be free to meet up next Saturday for lunch?
Immediately I received a reply.
I would love to. Since you’re new to the city, Emerson, why don’t I choose the restaurant?
Sounds perfect to me, just nothing too fancy, and by fancy I mean anything requiring me to put on a decadent dress and heels because I don’t own either of those things!
That is clearly all my fault, but as your mother I intend on making good on showing you how to dress. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you won’t regret this. I’ll let you know once I’ve chosen a place.
The weight in my chest eased a little, but still I felt uncertain and scared. I was opening myself up to the possibility of hurt. I wanted to erase my fear, I wanted to feel strong and courageous, and there was only one person who made me feel that way. Taking a chance, I decided to break protocol and message Hendrik. He usually initiated our meetings, but maybe this time he would let me take the reins.
Dear Mystery Guy Mr. Vasgård I don’t want to be alone tonight.
Are you seeking an invitation to my lair? - Miss Monsoon
Maybe. I replied.
That can be arranged. I do have something to take care of but it won’t take long. In the meantime, I’ll get Emelius to take you to my place.
I felt such a rush of thrilling exhilaration that had me clutching my stomach to try and still the butterflies. My skin felt alive, and I felt achy in a way I’d never felt before. Deciding to test his unbroken control I decided to tease him.
Blindfolded?
No. I have nothing to hide. But you’ve given me an idea and it involves you being blindfolded and in my bed.
Is that the price of admission into your lair?
It is now. Still interested in coming? Please excuse the innuendo.
I’m still not ready to go all the way.
I know, which is why you’ll be the one doing all the work. You did say you wanted to become acquainted with my body. Why not do it blindfolded?
You’re incorrigible.
I take it that’s not a no?
You’re just so irresistible, how can I deny you? I will be there.
You made sure you didn’t use the word coming, didn’t you? That’s why it took you so long to reply?
Dammit, he was good! I didn’t respond, but I’m sure my silence was telling enough.