Shattered

by Ava Conway

  “I did, but it was different. Our relationship was different than you and me.” He inched closer.

  “Yeah.” I tilted my chin up to meet his gaze.

  “She was so scared all the time. Kept saying that there were people after her.”

  “She must have been suffering from paranoia,” I said. “That must have been why she was here.”

  He frowned. “I wouldn’t know about that. I just wanted to know why she was so scared all the time. Then one day I figured it out.”

  “It doesn’t say the reason for her paranoia in the database.”

  “No, I can’t imagine it would.” His voice was laced with sarcasm as he spoke. He leaned his elbow on the wall next to my head. “I didn’t tell anyone what I had found out.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  “I learned . . .” He looked away from my intense stare and appeared to be struggling for words. “I learned that Everett and Johnson were harassing her.”

  “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t some tech pick that up on the cameras?”

  “Those two have a way of getting around that.” He inched closer. I could smell his rich male scent, feel his minty breath on my skin. “When I had learned that Johnson was making sexual advances, I sought him out and punched him in the face.” He curled his fingers along the wall by my head.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. While it didn’t surprise me—I had seen Flynn get violent before—it didn’t sit well that Flynn would be so passionate about protecting another woman.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I beat him until two men pulled me off.”

  I glanced up and saw that his expression had turned hard and bitter. He pushed off the wall and walked a short distance away from me. I got the sense that he was trying to control his anger.

  “I wanted to punish him for what he did to Victoria.”

  We were both silent for a long moment. I thought of the picture in that article, the one where Flynn was handcuffed and dragged off by police. Goose bumps spread over my skin as I realized how dangerous he could be and how close we were standing together.

  “What happened next?” I asked to fill the silence.

  Flynn eased away from me and shrugged. “Johnson said I was a liar, and it became my word against his. The only person who could clear things up was Victoria.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and averted his gaze.

  “But Victoria didn’t corroborate your story.” If she had, I would have read about it.

  “No.” His voice was so quiet, I could barely hear him. “She wasn’t herself. She kept pointing at me and saying ‘It was him. Not Johnson, him.’ ”

  I stared at him for a long moment, then asked the obvious question. “Did you try to rape her?”

  Instead of answering, Flynn continued with his story. “People assumed she was talking about attempted rape, and Johnson was quick to tell everyone that was the reason why we were fighting. He had confronted me about it and was planning to tell Dr. Polanski. That was when I started throwing punches.”

  “But that wasn’t true, was it?” I didn’t want to think that Flynn was capable of rape, but Johnson was an orderly who had dedicated his life to the mentally ill. It didn’t make sense to me that he’d lie and hurt the very people he was trying to help.

  “There was an investigation, but because of Victoria’s illness and lack of any physical evidence, the situation got buried. It was agreed that the accusation of rape was probably a hallucination, but they wanted to watch me closely to make sure I didn’t form close relationships with other women.”

  “But did you try to rape her?” I needed to know for certain if Johnson was a liar, or if there was more to this story than Flynn was saying. According to Dr. Polanski’s notes, Flynn was capable of being impulsive. Would that impulsiveness translate into attempted rape? I hadn’t read anything in his file, but that didn’t mean much. I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. After all the time we had spent alone together, at any time he could have forced himself on me and I would have been helpless to defend against it.

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He pressed his lips together as some indescribable emotion crossed over his features. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I thought you were different, but you’re not. You’re just like all the rest.” He waved his hand in the air in disgust. “Go on, go out with that bastard Johnson. See if I care. You two deserve each other.”

  “Wait,” I said as he turned to go. “Just tell me, yes or no.”

  He leaned his hands on the wall by my head, trapping me. My heartbeat quickened, and I held my breath. I refused to look away from his gaze, however.

  He leaned in close until his face took up my whole vision. “I’ll tell you what happened with Victoria right after you tell me why you want to become a shrink.”

  “Psychologist.”

  “Same thing.” He shifted his head and inched closer to my ear. “And don’t give me all of that academic mumbo jumbo. Tell me the real reason why Mia Horton wants to help sick and demented minds.”

  I thought back to the night of my miscarriage and how alone I felt. I remembered how much it hurt to keep everything inside, but when I had tried to call my mom and tell her, she told me that my older sister had just lost another pregnancy. I couldn’t double that poor woman’s pain.

  I remembered how much I needed a friend to confide in, but how Bethany had been killed and Lucy put on trial for manslaughter. Lucy had enough problems to deal with. She didn’t need mine.

  Most of all, I remembered how I buried my pain and tears, then sealed them over. Just like a phoenix from the ashes, I had emerged from the shattered pieces of my life as a new woman, much stronger and more determined than before.

  “You know Lucy White,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s my best friend.” My only friend. “I hated what happened to her and want to help people like her heal.”

  “People like her.” He inched back and considered me. “And how do you plan to do that, Ms. Horton?”

  I took a deep, steadying breath. “By helping them bury their own pain so deep that it could never hurt them again.”

  He pushed away from the wall and took a step back. “Now it makes sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was only guessing before, but now I know.”

  “What do you know?” Panic welled up inside of my chest and a seductive smile spread out on his face.

  “I’ll tell you all of my secrets, Mia, but first you have to tell me yours. Every last little detail.”

  I thought of Freckles and wished I could hold her to my chest once more. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Oh, I think there is.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied my face. “What are you hiding, Mia?”

  In my mind’s eye, I saw the blood-stained underwear, felt the agony. For a split second, pain so great rose through my body and threatened to swallow me whole. I was drowning in memories, thoughts of the child I’d never know, of the family I’d never have.

  I shoved the emotions aside, locking them back up where they belonged. Noticing Flynn’s curious expression, I lifted my chin and forced myself to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He considered me for a long moment before responding. “Go back to your ivory tower, Mia. Play with your books and fancy toys. This is no place for little girls.” He took a step back toward the residence halls—a place where I wasn’t allowed.

  “I’m not a little girl.” Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back, determined not to let him see how upset he was making me.

  “This place will eat you alive,” Flynn said as he took another step back. “Stay where you’ll be safe.”

  “Flynn—”

  “Get out of here, Mia. Before this place destroys you. Before I destroy you.”

  “You keep saying tha
t, but what does it mean?”

  “You’ve read my files, so don’t play dumb with me.” He began to close the distance between us, waving his arms in the air as he spoke. “I’m not right in the head, Mia. I’m angry and violent.”

  I pressed my back into the wall as he inched closer.

  “I yell. I manipulate.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Oh, yes. Didn’t you do your homework? I think with my fists, Mia.” He eased up into my personal space until his nose was inches from mine. “Piss me off, and I’ll beat you to death. Just like I did my father.”

  “You what?” A dark hole opened in my chest as his words sunk into my brain.

  “Oh, you didn’t get to that part in my file? Then perhaps you should know that when I get mad, I need to punch things. When I get really mad, I punch people. Then I keep punching and punching until it all goes away.”

  “You—you wouldn’t do that.”

  “No?” He raised his brows at me and sneered. “Read the papers, Mia. They say that I killed a man in a fit of rage.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Believe it. That’s why I’m here.” He inched closer. “I’ll hurt you, Mia, just like I’ve hurt everyone in my life.”

  “You wouldn’t punch me.” I lifted my chin and forced myself to meet his gaze. “I know you, Flynn McKenna. You wouldn’t punch a woman.”

  He brushed a stray hair from my face. “Everyone in my life—everyone I have cared about—has suffered because of me.” He pushed himself off the wall, creating some distance between us. “I don’t want you to suffer, too, Mia. Not you.”

  “Don’t go.”

  He began to walk backward, away from me. “I’ve been completely honest with you, Mia. Now it’s your turn.”

  He held my gaze, and for a long moment I wanted to tell him everything—about my father, about the miscarriage, about Lacey and Lucy and why I really wanted to enter the mental health profession. I wanted to tell him everything, but the words stuck in my throat.

  He turned to go, and I was too choked up to ask him to stay. As I watched him disappear around the corner, fresh pain washed over my body, although whether it was from our conversation or my lost baby, I wasn’t sure.

  That was close. I could never tell anyone about the miscarriage or about my damaged body. Yes, polycystic ovary syndrome was fairly common. Yes, many women could have children despite their damaged bodies. Those people didn’t have my family’s curse, however. For us, having children destroyed relationships and broke us beyond repair.

  I thought about my sister and her misery, my aunt and her sterility, and my father and his suicide. This was the legacy I was inheriting. These were my problems, not anyone else’s. It was pointless to burden others with my pain.

  Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I turned back toward my office and saw Johnson standing by one of the laundry bins, watching me. He crossed his arms and openly leered at me with those confident, beady eyes. There was something about his presence that unnerved me. After hearing Flynn’s confession, he scared me more than anyone else in this place.

  No charges had been brought against Johnson. There was no proof, and no other incident of his misbehavior other than the Victoria incident. Still, there was something about him that gave me the creeps.

  I hurried past him and back toward my office. When the door finally closed behind me, I sank against it and glanced at the clock over my desk.

  Only two more hours until quitting time. It was going to be the longest two hours of my life.

  NINETY MINUTES LATER, and I didn’t get much done, but that was okay. My mind was too filled with thoughts of my miscarriage, Freckles and Flynn. I searched the database for information about Flynn’s father and learned that what Flynn had told me out in the hallway was true—at least in part. Flynn had beaten his father in a fit of rage, but only after he had discovered that his mother had been shot by his father in a drunken frenzy. Flynn didn’t kill his father, but the overdose of pain medications the older man took during his recovery did.

  While Flynn’s actions were horrible, at least I could justify them in my mind. Flynn was a trained fighter who had been abused by his father for years. When he had learned of what his father did, something snapped, and he changed. After the incident, the police sent him to a state hospital. His former boxing coach took pity on him, and paid for him to move to Newton Heights, where he could get more individualized attention and better care.

  While I understood Flynn’s actions, I didn’t condone them, and became more determined than ever to help him move on with his life. I knew what it was like to have all this pain inside you with no way of letting it out. Flynn didn’t need another round of medication; he needed to bury his past and move forward, and no one was better suited to help him than I.

  I was still thinking about Flynn when I got an email from the lost-and-found lady by the front desk. Someone had turned in Freckles!

  I had been calling down every day since I had lost my bunny to see if it had turned up, with no luck. I couldn’t believe someone had found it and returned it downstairs.

  I poked my head out of my office and found the hall blissfully empty. After closing the door, I hurried past reception, casually waving to Pam as I entered the elevators. With each step I got more and more excited. It was so hard not to run like a fool down the stairs to the lobby. When the doors closed, I glanced in the glass elevator walls and noticed that my makeup looked slightly worn and some strands of hair had fallen out of my bun. The countless hours I had spent that morning trying to look perfect were beginning to unravel. The careful walls I had constructed were beginning to crumble, and the old Mia was starting to show. Like Cinderella at the ball, I felt like I was beginning to turn into a pumpkin. I tried the best I could to straighten myself up, but it was no use. I was a mess. Sighing, I gave up. It didn’t really matter anyway. I was about to get my bunny.

  As the doors opened, I hurried out into the foyer, anxious to hold Freckles once more. The bottom of the mental hospital had a similar layout to the outpatient building, with a coffee shop, gift store, and security checkpoint. This building also had semiprivate visitor rooms with glass walls for families, open lounge areas and—what I was looking for—the lost and found.

  As I quickly strode over the clean and polished floors, I noticed how normal everything looked. This could be the downstairs to any office building. I was struck by how weird it seemed that all of this routine activity went on right underneath where people were trying to put together the pieces of their shattered lives. It made me realize just how little difference there was between people like Flynn and myself. Hardly any difference at all.

  “Hi. What can I do for you?” A statuesque dark-skinned woman sat up and adjusted her uniform as I approached. Like all of the other female staff, she wore a bright white jacket and skirt, but it seemed to add to her beauty, not take away from it. Her hair hung straight to the shoulders, and her makeup was expertly applied.

  I glanced at her name tag. “Hi, Sondra.” I looked up and tried to smile, but it felt forced. She was so beautiful and put together. It made me feel inferior even though I was wearing a similar uniform and had spent forty-five minutes this morning making sure I looked presentable.

  “What can I do for you today?” she asked.

  I suppressed the part of me that wanted to jump back behind the counter and dive into the bins for my bunny. I had to remain calm and collected. Professional.

  I cleared my throat and lifted my chin. “I received an email a short while ago that someone dropped off a small, stuffed bunny with spots on it . . .”

  Sondra grinned. “You’re the Freckles lady, aren’t you?”

  Lovely; now I was known at the lost and found as the “Freckles lady.” My humiliation was now complete.

  Well, the humiliation didn’t matter as long as I got my bunny back.

  “Yes, that’s me.” I cleared my throat once more. “Fr
eckles lady.”

  “Here it is.” Sondra reached down behind the desk and with her long, manicured fingers pulled up a small stuffed animal. “I hope that your niece wasn’t too distraught over missing her stuffed animal.”

  I looked down at the counter and then hesitated. “That’s not her.”

  “What do you mean? It’s a bunny with freckled fur.”

  Yes, but it wasn’t my bunny. “The one I’m looking for has brown fur with white spots.” This one was white with gray spots. I struggled to hold back the wave of disappointment rising in my chest.

  “I’m sorry, honey. Perhaps you could just buy your niece a new bunny.”

  I wanted to tell her that I didn’t have a niece, but the words stuck in my throat. The truth was just too embarrassing.

  I felt like crying. Without realizing it, I had gotten my hopes up about Freckles and now they were crushed. I said my good-byes to Sondra and left my extension in case Freckles showed up, then quickly returned to the elevator before she could see the tears in my eyes.

  As I moved through the lobby, my sadness turned to anger. I hated how normal everything looked, how peaceful. Everyone seemed to go about their daily lives with no care for the mess going on upstairs. It angered me that these people could be so unfeeling. Didn’t they know that people were hurting, their lives shattered through no fault of their own? No; everyone was too self-absorbed to see what was going on right in front of their faces.

  As I got back into the elevator, I looked at the mirrored wall once more and thought about how much the people in my life were like the ones downstairs. Justin was obsessed with his scholarship and football practice. My sister was interested only in her marriage and starting a family. My mother claimed to care, but I could see how my dad’s suicide and my sister’s screwed-up life were taking tolls. My problems would only add to her burden and possibly cause her to snap.

  I didn’t want to be like them, so consumed with myself that I didn’t know what was going on around me. I wanted to be more active and engaged. I wanted to be better.

  Back in my office, I collected my things and thought of Flynn. I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours. It was so tempting to unload all my baggage. The problem was, I had everything buried so deep, I didn’t even know where to begin.