by Dr Harper
I ushered him out the front door and ran to my car in the parking lot. I saw a PT Cruiser on the main road, heading south.
After running a stop sign and cutting off a few cars, I was a comfortable distance behind them. I followed the car off the highway and into the suburbs.
My mind was going a million miles a minute. If Lucas was lying about the infidelity, what else was he lying about?
I had latched so strongly onto this idea of Borderline and Codependent, I practically fed him everything I expected to hear.
But now I was re-thinking everything.
What if Kierra didn’t have Borderline Personality Disorder at all? Partners of narcissists and sociopaths often develop Complex PTSD, which can look a lot like BPD. That’s what happens when one person manufactures jealousy and insecurity in a partner. Sociopaths love to play innocent while their victims self-destruct and question their own sanity.
And even if Kierra had BPD, she certainly didn’t deserve to be deceived and betrayed. She deserved a chance at happiness, just like anyone else.
The car finally slowed down and pulled into a driveway, so I stopped a safe distance before.
I saw Lucas lean in to hug the driver. Then he stepped out of the car, walked up the driveway, and headed into the garage as the car drove away.
Consumed by curiosity and distrust, I stepped out of my car and closed the door quietly. Then I snuck through the woods and approached the garage from the side.
I peered into the window and saw Lucas wandering toward the back of the garage – with a kitchen knife.
And that’s when I saw Kierra.
She was bound to a chair with rope, and her mouth was covered by duct tape.
She squirmed as he approached. My heart raced as I desperately tried to think of a plan.
Then Kierra looked up and saw me through the window.
Nothing came out of her mouth, but her eyes were screaming for help.
PART THREE
As Lucas approached Kierra – knife in hand – I realized the police wouldn’t get here in time. I looked around the yard frantically. All I could find was an axe laying on top of a tree stump.
“Fuck.” I shook my head and ran over to grab it.
Without thinking twice, I sprinted back to the garage and burst through the door
I waved the axe around and shouted, trying to look and sound as intimidating as possible. Lucas was lanky, but he was in good shape. And he was probably around five years younger than me, so I needed an advantage on him.
They both looked completely shocked as I ran toward them.
“Drop the knife!” I shouted, brandishing the axe at Lucas. “Get the fuck away from her!”
He glanced one more time at Kierra, then at the door. He didn’t drop the knife, but he ran around me and bolted out of the garage.
I dropped the axe and hurried over to Kierra, who was sobbing uncontrollably. As I got closer, I noticed a horrible smell. My heart sank as I realized she had soiled herself.
“You’re okay,” I consoled her as I untied the ropes. “You’re safe now, okay? No one can hurt you.”
She nodded through more tears.
“You’re so brave,” I continued talking calmly, trying to keep her attention on my eyes. “You’re going to be okay.”
Once she was free from the ropes, I draped my jacket over her shoulders and helped her from the chair.
“I need to call the police now,” I said, taking out my phone. “I’m still right here with you, okay?”
“No!” she said, eyes going wide. “They’ll arrest him!”
“Yes,” I said. “Lucas will be charged.”
“You can’t!” she pleaded. “You can’t get him into trouble.”
I bit my lip. Victims of domestic abuse often cover for their partners, no matter how bad the abuse gets. It can take a long time to unravel that level of confusion.
“Kierra, because he put you in immediate physical danger, I have to call the cops,” I said. “I promise everything is going to be okay.”
“Please.” She shook her head. “If he goes to jail, I think I’d – I’d kill myself.”
In that moment, I considered hospitalizing Kierra for suicidal thoughts, but I was seriously concerned that her lingering attachment to Lucas would lead her right back into his arms once they were both free. I’ve helped a lot of patients break free from that trauma bond, so I came up with another idea.
“What if you come stay with me?” I asked. “I have a panic room above my garage. It’s fortified with steel and blastproof Kevlar panels. You’d be untouchable.”
She looked up and sniffled. “You’d let me stay there?”
“Yes,” I said. “And if you’d like, I can provide you with daily therapy sessions until you’re feeling better.”
She paused for a moment and nodded. “Really?” she said. “Thank you – thank you so much.”
“Great,” I said. “Now, let’s get you out of here – and find you a fresh set of clothes.”
She buried her face, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s the slicer.”
“What do you mean?”
“He – He bakes these pies,” she said. “And then he makes me slice off a piece and eat it every time I misbehave.”
My jaw dropped in disgust. “And the pies are poisoned?”
“Yes,” she said miserably. “They give me unbearable cramps and stomach problems. But I’m afraid someday it will be worse.”
I bit my lip again. There was no way in hell that I’d ever let her return to Lucas. I’d keep my promise to her for now, but the moment she was ready to leave my place, I was going to call the police.
And if they didn’t lock him away, I’d take matters into my own hands.
◆◆◆
If I wasn’t going to involve the cops yet, there was one more person I needed to protect. He wasn’t hard to find, because – just as Kierra mentioned – Lucas had tagged him in dozens of public Facebook photos.
“Ryan,” I stood up to greet Lucas’s friend. “Thank you for coming in.”
“Sure,” he said, taking a seat. “You said it was urgent?”
“Yes,” I said. “Your friend Lucas. He’s extremely dangerous.”
“Lukey?” He let out a small laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“You have to trust me,” I said. “He was holding his wife in the garage – with the intent to harm her.”
His eyes went wide. “You know about that?”
My heart started to race. Oh god, were they both in this together?
I slowly reached for the phone in my pocket. Enough was enough. It was time to stop playing detective and bring in the real police.
“It’s not what it looked like,” he said quickly. “He was just trying to protect her.”
I lifted my fingers from the phone. “What?”
“She’s crazy.” He shook his head. “This whole therapy thing was his idea. He wanted to save their marriage, but she hated it. After the first session, she threatened to kill herself if he went back. She held a knife to her arm.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not!” he said. “Listen, Lukey made some bad choices, but he’s not a bad guy. He did it because he loved her.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I scoffed. “Every abuser says they have to hurt their victim because of love.”
“It’s not like that!” Ryan protested. “He came back to you because he wanted to keep getting help. He restrained her so she wouldn’t hurt herself while he was gone. It was her idea–”
I crossed my arms.
“I swear to God!” he said. “She has some freakish addiction to being the damsel in distress.”
“How do you even know any of this?”
Ryan looked down. “Because he asked me to watch her that morning,” he said. “To make sure she was safe.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “He had a fucking knife.”
“Probably to cut the rope!” said R
yan.
“What about the bowel movements?” I said. “The poisoned pies.”
“I – I don’t know,” he said nervously. “She kept shitting herself and blaming his pies. This has been a thing for months now. She gets horribly sick every time he starts seeking help – from friends, family, and now you.”
“You think she poisons herself intentionally?”
“I have no idea,” he said. “But I tried a slice, and nothing happened to me.”
I looked at him for a moment and shook my head.
“I’m sick of being lied to,” I said, taking out my phone. “I know you’re romantically involved with Lucas. This is all just some sick plot to get rid of Kierra, and I’m putting an end to it.”
He frowned. “I’m not involved with Lukey.”
“Yes you are,” I said. “You kissed him in the parking lot.”
His cheeks went pink. “You saw that?”
“Yes,” I lied. It was true enough. “So now I know you’re a liar too. Just like him.”
“No, the kiss happened!” he said quickly. “But it was unreciprocated. I was just trying to show him what real love could feel like.”
“Unreciprocated?”
“Yeah, I initiated it. But he pushed me away as soon as our lips touched.” He looked down at the floor. “He has a heart of gold, but he’s loyal to a fault. I don’t think he’ll ever escape the hold she has over him.”
I looked at his eyes, trying to get a read on this whole situation. I was seriously sick of the mind games and manipulation. This was why most therapists opted not to treat the Cluster-B disorders.
I stood up to indicate that our conversation was over. Now I was glad that I hadn’t called the police, because there seemed to be a lot more to the story. I still had no idea who was telling the truth, but Kierra was safe above my garage, so I had plenty of time to figure this out.
After Ryan left, I sorted through some of the latest resumes for my assistant position. There were plenty of decent candidates – mostly grad students looking to get some experience – but none of them felt quite right.
There was a knock on the door and I looked up to see the FedEx guy back with another box.
That was strange. I wasn’t expecting any deliveries today.
“Hey, doctor!” he said with a smile. “I tried to drop this off at a house in the suburbs, but the guy said his wife doesn’t live there anymore. He said you might know where she is?”
I raised my eyebrows and took the package.
“I wonder if the wife left because you made him gay?” he said. “I mean, no offense, but that’s not really a good outcome of couples therapy, right?”
I looked up from the package and glared at him. “Do you ever stop talking?”
He blushed and waved goodbye, which instantly made me feel bad for being so rude.
“Uh – Sorry,” I said. “It’s been a rough week. What’s your name?”
“That’s alright!” he said. “I’m Trevor.”
“Thanks for everything, Trevor,” I said. “You’ve made this whole move a lot easier for me.”
He smiled again and said, “No problem!”
After he left, I looked down to the package addressed to Kierra. It really made me nervous that Lucas had referred the package to my office.
I would bring it to her, of course, but I had to examine it first. There was no way I’d let an unknown package into my safe room. I kept that place locked down like a bank.
I cut the package open and was surprised to pull out a package of gummy bears.
At first they seemed harmless, but then I read the label.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” I could practically feel my blood pressure rising.
Kierra didn’t have Borderline Personality Disorder or C-PTSD, and she definitely wasn’t the victim of a sociopath.
◆◆◆
“Kierra, you received a package today,” I said, sliding the gummy bears her way in the panic room.
“Oh, thank you!” she said. “How was your day? I’ve been practicing all of the meditations you gave me, and they’re helping so much.”
Her eyes started brimming with tears again. “I just can’t believe you’ve given me a second chance at life,” she said. “I feel like I’m finally ready to start standing up for myself.”
“That’s great,” I said flatly. “Why don’t you have a gummy bear?”
She sniffled and looked at me, confused. “Right now? I’m not really hungry.”
“Oh, I really have to insist,” I said.
She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “Not in the mood to vomit out your ass today?”
“What are you – What are you talking about?” The tears fell freely from her eyes.
“Nobody’s poisoning you,” I said. “Sugarless Haribo gummy bears? I had these on an airplane once – and it’s an experience I’ll never forget. There are about 300 Amazon reviews detailing similar experiences. So cut the fucking bullshit.”
I was surprised to see her tears and hysterics stop abruptly.
“Congratulations,” she said calmly. “You cracked the case of the diarrheal gummy bears.”
I looked at her, trying not to appear anxious. It was important to maintain the upper-ground with people like this.
“Has this all just been an act?” I asked. “You can just – turn off those emotions?”
“Well, they’re always off,” she said. “But yeah, I realized that Borderlines get more attention and sympathy, so I decided to give it a try.”
A sociopath pretending to have Borderline Personality Disorder. That had to be a first.
“That’s disgusting,” I said. “There are people out there struggling with mental illness – trying so hard to get better – and you use it as a tool?”
She laughed. “Don’t get all sanctimonious on me, dick burner.”
I froze. “What did you say?”
“You burned your dick as a kid,” she said matter-of-factly. “Is that why you’re so obsessed with saving people? Because your first love rejected you, and now no one will ever love your burnt dick?”
I felt an intense dread forming in my stomach. I forgot about the files I’d left up here
“Where–”
“No need to freak out,” she said, reaching forward to hand me the file. “But you know, we’re actually pretty similar.”
“No, we’re not,” I said, snatching the file away from her.
“Think about it,” she said. “We’re both puppet masters and control freaks. We both feel superior and safe when we’re arranging everyone to do what we want.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said again.
“No, it’s incredible!” she said, eyes lighting up. “When I first met Lucas, he was so innocent and full of life. Cheerful and funny. Now he’s angry, moody, and depressed – all for me.”
“Well, I’m going to help him feel good again,” I said. “So I guess we’re not so similar.”
“Please,” she said. “You have no power over him. He’s bonded to me, and he’ll do whatever I say. He’s like a little puppy. Even when he knows I’m fucking with him, he comes running back. He’ll stay with me forever.”
“He’ll realize he deserves better,” I said confidently. “Once we build up his boundaries and self-respect, he won’t put up with your behavior anymore.”
“That’s when I give him the honeymoon phase again,” she said with a smile. “Back when everything was perfect and we were ‘soulmates’. That’s the high he keeps chasing.”
I felt my blood boiling. “I’m going to report you.”
“To who?” She laughed. “The gummy bear police? There aren’t any laws against emotional abuse. And if the police ever come knocking on our door, my body will be covered in enough bruises and scars to make sure he’s the one leaving in handcuffs. Who would believe him over sad, wounded Kierra.”
Her eyes began to tear up again, lip quivering. The
n she stopped immediately and grinned.
“People like you are the reason that abuse victims are afraid to come forward,” I said. “99% of the time they’re telling the truth, but the world focuses on the 1% of liars like you.”
“Hey, let’s make a bet.” She leaned forward, ignoring me. “I’ll bet you $1,000 that by the end of the year, I can get Lucas to kill himself.”
“That’s murder.”
“Not in the eyes of the law.” She stood up to gather her belongings. “Now, I think I’ll be checking out of the Harper Hilton. My husband needs me.”
And then suddenly – without warning – I felt an overwhelming burning sensation tear through my heart.
Nothing good ever comes from that feeling.
◆◆◆
Weeks later, Lucas returned for his twelfth daily session. That might seem like overkill, but it’s really hard to break the addiction to a toxic person – so I wanted to be there for him, every step of the way.
“I just can’t believe it!” he said, a big smile on his face. “I never thought I could feel like this. It’s like my whole body weighs nothing. All the anxiety is just… gone.”
“That’s great, Lucas,” I said. “I take it the guided meditations are helping?”
“All of it!” he said. “The meditations, the books, our sessions, all of it. It just feels like my heart is so big and free, you know?”
I broke into a rare smile too – I couldn’t help it. Moments like this were exactly why I got into therapy. It was so inspiring to see Lucas transform his depression and anger into a joyful new chapter of his life.
“Oh man, I just want to dance around!” he said. “Do you like to dance?”
“Absolutely not.” I shook my head. “But feel free to do a solo.”
As he bounced around the room, I could practically see the energy bursting from the heart he was so proud of.
“You know,” he said, slowing down. “When Kierra left me that breakup letter, I thought I would never be happy again. But now I feel a totally different kind of happiness.”
“Do you miss her?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, pacing around. “The letter was so thoughtful, and it made me realize she really is a good person deep down, even if we aren’t together. The way she told me to move on and find joy without her… It was just so selfless.”
