by Lacey Alpha
She goes quite, considering my deal.
“Fine,” she says through tight lips. “I'll organise your schedule.”
I nod, leaning back in my seat, defeated. This woman has me under lock and key and I have no idea how to free myself from her.
Her eyes fall to the book on me knee, a bright spark igniting in them. “Is that your journal?”
I nod, holding it out to her, hoping to appease her, to get her mind off of Annalise.
Her fingernails dig into the leather binding as she takes it, eyeing it greedily.
My gut churns violently as I watch her; it feels like I've just handed her my soul.
ANNALISE
I'm shocked, reeling. I don't know how to feel as I arrive home at the flat.
Clarissa Sinclair is Ethan's therapist. So does that mean she did that to him? She hurt him? Cut him?
My hands are shaking, curling into fists. How can I fix this? There must be something I can do.
She's got a hold on him that I don't quite understand. And I don't think he'd tell me the truth, even if I asked.
My phone rings and I grab it out of my bag, finding Ethan calling.
My heart races as I answer, hoping he's about to give me an explanation.
“Ethan?”
“Lise...hi.”
Oh no. That tone is not good. What has Clarissa done to him now?
“Are you alright? She didn't...hurt you again, did she?”
“No Lise. You don't understand...”
My anger rises. “Then help me understand, Ethan. Because I just accepted a training position from that woman. And if she's a fraud- if she's hurting you-”
“We need to stop seeing each other,” he cuts me off bluntly, making my heart tug sharply.
I drop onto the bed, my hand trembling as I clutch the phone. “Ethan, don't do this.”
“It has to stop. I need it to. I'm sorry.”
A tear slips from my eye. I know I can't win him round. Clarissa's done this. I'm certain. I can sense it in my very bones.
“Ethan, please. At least give me an explanation. Help me understand.”
“Clarissa gives me what I need,” he says, his tone cool.
I nod, my heart aching. How can he think that's true? What has she done to him?
“Goodbye, Lise.”
“Wait-”
He hangs up, leaving me devastated.
My breathing increases and I chuck my phone across the room, roaring my anger. It hits the desk, clattering across it.
As my breathing slows, I try to focus my thoughts. I still have a position at the clinic, I can get close to Clarissa. I can figure this out. Somehow.
⊱✿ ✿⊰
I thought I might see Ethan at the clinic, but the days slip by and he never shows up. I'm convinced Clarissa is still treating him though. She must be. But she's evasive as hell.
I sit behind the grey sofa in her office, observing her as she counsels a client. Her eyes never stray to me but I glare at her all the while. I can't help but search for something in her technique, something incriminating. Something manipulative or destructive. But there's nothing. She's seamless.
When the client's session is finished, we're left alone in the room together.
“I think that's enough observation for one day,” Clarissa says, still not looking at me, seeming disinterested as she flips through her notes.
I stand. “Okay.” I head toward the door then clear my throat. “Is Ethan still seeing you?” I try to sound offhanded but I'm not sure I manage it.
Clarissa finally looks at me, her green eyes assessing. “It's not appropriate for you and I to discuss Ethan.”
I nod, my gut churning. “I just worry about him.”
“Do you?” Her tone is cool, her lips pressed together.
“Yes.” I stand my ground, gazing at her. A dangerous thought flickers into my mind and it spills from my lips unfiltered, “You're not qualified to practice aversion therapy, are you?”
Her eyes glimmer but her composure remains completely intact. “No. Why do you ask?”
I narrow my eyes on her. She's not going to crack, she's not going to give away anything to me. But now she knows that I know what she did to him.
“No reason,” I say lightly, marching from the room.
I check the time, finding it nearly lunch time. Wandering into the reception area, I find Janet heading off to get her lunch. Possessed by an idea, I hurry to her desk, flipping open the weekly diary. I scan through Clarissa's appointments, running my finger down the page.
With a jolt, I spot Ethan's name. All of his sessions are scheduled outside of my training hours.
Bitch.
I snap the book shut, grinding my teeth. This is her doing, I'm sure of it. And I'm going to find out what the hell is going on.
I don't buy Clarissa's bullshit act in her sessions. It's time to figure out exactly who this woman is when I'm not observing her.
ETHAN
The week creeps by at a torturous pace. I barely give anything of myself in Clarissa's sessions any more. And she knows it. Trying to draw me out of myself, using every technique in the book. But I'm not having it. She may have me here, holding her tongue on my secrets, but I'm not going to give her any more of myself than she's already taken.
“Ethan, we've reached a crossroads,” she says one Friday morning as I laze in my seat, gazing absently out the window.
Without Annalise, I'm lost, drifting through life without meaning or purpose.
“Hm?” I question vaguely.
“It's time we ended this. I can see you're just here for my benefit, and it's not going to continue.”
Her eyebrows arch at me, pushing me for a reaction. I don't give her one.
She picks up her phone, glancing at me and I finally jolt awake.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Annalise. I'd like her to join today's session. It's time she knew who you are.”
Fire flares through my chest. “You can't do that! I did what you asked.”
“This is for the best, Ethan.”
She lifts the phone to her ear and I have half a mind to snatch it from her hand.
“Unless...” She lowers the phone, eyeing me thoughtfully.
I glance up at the single word that holds my entire life in the balance.
She places the phone on the hook, standing and moving past me, her hand trailing over my shoulder as she walks out of sight.
“I can make this all go away, Ethan. My record of your obsessions, your history of anger, all of it.”
I turn to her and she grazes her knuckles over my cheek bone, belittling me.
I move to stand but she places a firm hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to stay still.
Clarissa circles the sofa, predatory, pausing as she arrives full circuit in front of me. She regards me, tilting her head to the side, her crimson curls cascading over one shoulder.
“What are you saying?” I growl, leaning back in my seat, my neck prickling uncomfortably.
“I think you know what I'm offering, I'm just asking for a little something in return.” She moves toward me, tugging up her skirt, dropping down over me, her knees pressing into the sofa.
“Are you insane?!” I shove her off me, standing, my heart in my throat.
She gazes up at me, lifting a finger to stroke my jaw. “Think about it, Ethan. I can make all of your problems disappear.”
I lean out of her touch, grimacing at her. “You can't be serious?”
She wets her lips. “You're a lot to look at. I don't think you even realise it. You're so caught up in all the bullshit in your head.” She taps my temple, degrading me.
I shrink inside, stepping back.
Clarissa inhales slowly, evidently not affected by my rejection. “Fine. Forget it.”
She turns promptly on her heel, dropping back into her chair, picking up her notepad as if she hasn't just propositioned me. “I think we'll up your meds. And it's about ti
me we discussed institutes, too.”
My mouth dries out. “Institutes?”
She nods seriously. “Oh yes, you're really quite unwell, Ethan. Delusional, actually.” She scribbles on her pad.
“I'll report you,” I growl but fear creeps into my chest.
“And who do you think they'd believe? The therapist with a PhD or the stalker who hears voices in his head?”
I shift, knotting my hands into fists. “You wouldn't.”
“Oh, but I would.” She places the pen down, reaching for the top button of her shirt, undoing it with nimble fingers. “Unless you'd like to change your answer?” She lifts that slim red brow, her expression going right through me, cornering me.
I remain silent as she fluffs her hair, flexing her neck, waiting for my answer.
All I'd have to do is fuck her and she'd wipe my record clean.
Annalise flashes into my mind, her image crystal clear and shining. Everything I've done to that girl weighs heavily on my heart. It's about time I started trying to be the man she deserves.
I stand, snatching the pad from Clarissa's knee and ripping it in half. “Do your worst. I'm done with you.” I chuck it at her, the pages fluttering through the air in a storm of white sheets.
She stands as I move to exit the room, her eyes like saucers.
“Ethan! You can't leave!” For once she's the one that sounds out of control.
The door opens before I reach it and Annalise enters, her eyes a storm of triumph.
I halt in my tracks, my heart pounding in my ears. What is she doing here?
She glances from me to Clarissa then plants her hands on her hips.
“What is it, Annalise?” Clarissa barks.
Annalise sets her jaw, glaring at her. “Do you make a habit out of manipulating all of your clients? Or is it just the attractive ones you proposition?”
I inhale in shock, clueless as to how she knows what just happened.
Clarissa laughs in high, tinkling notes. “I have no idea what you're talking about. But I'll be having a word with your supervisor about these wild accusations.”
Annalise raises her fist and I spot a phone in her hand. “I think it's me that will be having a word with your supervisor, Clarissa. I've had a bug in here hooked up to my phone for a week. Even I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to blackmail Ethan into fucking you. It was just your perverted idea of counselling that I was interested in.”
I gaze at Annalise in amazement, hardly able to believe she's pulled this off. She's fucking saved me.
“Give that to me,” Clarissa snarls and I instinctively put myself in front of Annalise.
“Yeah, right,” Annalise laughs dryly.
“You're just a psychology graduate. You have no idea about real therapy. Ethan's mind is a very dark and messed up place, Annalise. My techniques are not something you could understand.” She straightens her spine, trying to keep her composure.
A corkscrew twists into my chest at her words.
“The only fucked up mind in this room, Clarissa, is yours.” Annalise turns, heading smartly out the door.
I'm left, freed, the rope around my neck loosening.
I do the only thing I can think of and put my middle finger up at Clarissa, grinning my head off as I follow Annalise into the hall.
I pull her into my arms before she has a chance to refuse me. She stiffens, briefly sliding her hands around my waist before stepping away.
“I knew she was twisted, but Christ...” Annalise heads down the hall and I follow, worshipping her with my eyes.
“Thank you,” I exhale heavily, Clarissa's claws have finally been extracted from my skin.
Annalise glances at me, her forehead creasing. “Oh Ethan, she's vile. I'm so sorry for what she's put you through. She's screwed with your head so much. And I've only heard a single week of it.”
I swallow, glad of my evasive behaviour this week. I've barely spoken about Annalise at all. She could have learned everything about my obsession, my stalking.
“What else did Clarissa do?” I feel stupid for asking. But psychology isn't exactly my area of expertise.
“I'll explain everything.” She brushes her fingers over my arm, keeping her eyes firmly away from mine, her old habit. The one I forced her to start.
I grind my teeth, snatching her jaw and forcing her to look at me. “You still do it.”
She shrugs, trying to look away again.
I hold her still until her eyes find mine, the pain in my stomach harsh but bearable.
“It's a habit,” she mutters.
“A psychologist once told me that all habits can be broken.”
Her eyes glimmer as I echo her own words.
“She must have been very smart.” She grins, pulling away from me.
“Smartest girl I know.” I continue to follow her, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets.
“She really sounds like something.”
“She was. Until I fucked up everything between us.”
She halts outside an office, turning to me. “Maybe there's hope yet.” Smiling briefly, she disappears into the room, leaving me gazing after her, my heart trying to crack open my ribcage to follow her.
I tongue the old welt in my cheek.
'Maybe' is a word that holds a whole universe of promise. And I'm going to bet everything I've got on it.
ANNALISE
I walk out of the clinic with Ethan at my side, feeling like a weight has lifted from me.
“Hey!” a voice calls from behind and we turn, finding Clarissa approaching with a book in her hand.
“Clarissa, no!” Ethan says in alarm and I glance between the two of them, unsure of what's going on.
“It's time Ethan,” she snarls, thrusting the book toward me. “Here.”
There's a darkness in her eyes that makes me uneasy. Hesitantly, I take it, feeling Ethan's eyes on the book like he wants to snatch it from my hand. “What is this?”
“You think you know Ethan's mind? Well I say otherwise.” She turns on her heel, walking smartly away from us.
Ethan's rigid beside me, his hands balled into fists. “Lise, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”
My blood chills as I flip the cover open, dropping my eyes to the words inside.
I still, taking in the slanted writing. My hand begins to tremble as I read the first paragraph.
There was nothing in my life for so long, an emptiness that expanded and expanded into infinity.
Then there was you.
You changed everything, the day I saw you sat in a cafe, a little frown creasing the space between your eyes. I was born again. You dragged me out of the well I'd be drowning in for nearly three years. And all I could do was watch.
And follow.
The hardest part is the guilt, but the sweetness of you is too alluring to ignore. And once I knew where you lived, the rest was too easy.
I went there again. To see you. I climbed the fire escape, sat in the wind and rain and just watched, bathed in the sight of your comfort, safe inside your home. I'm a thing of horror films, the monster that leers, the snap of twigs behind you, the footsteps in a dark alley. I am your watcher and you are my haven, Annalise.
I nearly drop the book, my hands shaking wildly. I snap it shut, unable to read more. This is Ethan's journal. This is his truth. This is what he was hiding from me. That he's been...what? Stalking me?
I glance up to find Ethan watching me, his eyes ablaze with horror.
I take a step back, as if seeing him clearly for the first time. “You were the person outside my window the other night?” My voice trembles horribly, my whole body beginning to shake.
“Please, I can explain,” he begs, taking a step closer.
I take several steps back, glancing over my shoulder, a prickling running up my spine. “You've been- stalking me?”
“Annalise, please, please just listen.” His eyes are wide, desperate, his expression taut.
“For how long?” I demand, my
heart in my throat.
His shoulders sag. “Six months.”
I gasp, stepping away, my mind reeling, my skin crawling. I throw the journal at his feet, turning on my heel and running away, fear getting the better of me.
I feel betrayed to my core, my mind spinning as I remember all the times I let him touch me. And all along he knew who I was. Jesus Christ, he came to my house to comfort me after I saw someone outside my window. And all along it was him. He was the one watching me!
I run until the pounding in my feet is all I can feel, eventually darting into a tube station and taking the train home.
I'm awash with anxiety, horror. I'm overcome by it.
This is what he's been hiding. This is why he knew things wouldn't last between us.
But he let things progress all the same, he let me develop feelings for him.
I shudder as I arrive home, hurrying upstairs to my flat. The first thing I do is wrench the curtains closed in the lounge before sinking to the floor, sobbing into the carpet.
I feel like such a fool, so manipulated and betrayed, exposed.
I curl into a ball, dragging my knees to my chest and letting the pain flow, consuming every part of me until there's nothing left but anger.
ETHAN
I knew this was coming and yet nothing could have prepared me for how I'd feel. My heart has been torn from my chest, my soul bared to the woman I've deceived.
Monster.
I'm drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkest regions of the ocean. I can't breathe, I can't think straight.
And the worst thing of all is, I knew this was going to happen. And I did nothing to stop it. It should have come from me, not Clarissa with her vindictive little dig at me.
I'm restless at home, picking up my phone a hundred times, debating calling Annalise.
But what would I say? How could I possibly explain this?
The way she looked at me, the horror in her eyes. I can still see it now, burning into me.
I march up and down, scraping a hand through my hair. Finally, I round on the phone, knowing exactly who I want to call.
I pick it up, jamming my thumb against the name I despise more than anyone else's in the world.
