Released (Caged #3)(40)

“So you’ve spent all this time not thinking about it and not dealing with it.”

“If I don’t think, why do I have to deal?” I challenged.

“You tell me,” she responded. “Do you really think how it has worked in the past is going to continue to work? You are here for a reason.”

“Tria.”

“And the child you are going to have together.”

I tensed a little before nodding.

“So…can you cure me?”

“Cure you?” she responded. “No, you’re going to have to do that yourself.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means we’re going to start you on some pretty intensive therapy,” Erin said. “I want you to do a little research on a new drug being used to treat post-traumatic stress. There’s been a lot of research on specific neurotransmitters helping to inhibit some of the symptoms of PTSD. There are a couple that are too similar to the way heroin acts on the brain, and I don’t want to use those, considering your history, but there are other options. I’ll give you some websites to research, and we’ll decide together what drug therapy will work best for you.”

She rifled through her desk for a moment before handing me a couple of brochures.

“That will be the easy part.”

I glanced through the literature.

“Looks pretty f*cking complicated to me.”

“The hard part will be what we do in this room,” she told me. “You have a lot of things wrapped up in that head of yours that need to come out. I have the feeling you also have a lot of misconceptions about what happened during that time, both because you were obviously traumatized by what happened to you and also because of your addiction. We’re going to try a little eye movement desensitization and reprocessing treatment as well.”

“Are you going to start speaking English at some point?”

“You are going to have to confront your family,” she said. “I would prefer we do it one at a time and as part of your sessions with me.”

“Why the f*ck would I want to do that?”

“Because it’s going to be critical to understanding what you did and why,” Erin said. “Don’t worry about it for now—I just want you to understand what is coming up in the future.”

“This is bullshit,” I muttered.

Erin gave me a small smile as she leaned back in her chair.

“May I ask you something?” she finally said.

“Is there an option?”

“You said all of this began when your father threw you out of the house.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, what do you think the main theme of that conversation was?”

I narrowed my eyes and considered for a moment before answering.

“I said I wanted to man up and be a father, and he told me to get rid of it.”

Erin nodded her head.

“What did you say to Tria when she first told you she was pregnant?”

I scowled at her, not liking where this was going at all.

“That was different,” I said. “I know now—from some pretty horrific experience—how dangerous pregnancy can be. Tria’s younger, and she hasn’t been through any of this shit before. I was just trying to protect her.”

More nods from my therapist. It was starting to piss me off.

“So tell me this,” Erin said. “How do you think your father would justify his actions?”

My body stilled a little as some of the words he said to me all those years ago started bouncing around in my mental eardrums.

“You don’t know what you are saying, Liam! You’re young and you think the world is just going to fall into place for you, but I’m telling you it doesn’t work that way. You don’t have the benefit of years like I do, son. I’m only trying to keep you from making a horrible mistake that may haunt you the rest of your life…”

“Fuck you.” I stood up, walked across the room, and slammed the door as I walked out of her office. Damon stood up as soon as I entered the room. “I need to go home.”

Damon didn’t say a word as he drove me back to Michael’s house, and I wasn’t much in the mood for conversation, either. He drove around the circular driveway and halted the car at the bottom of the front steps. I paused in the back seat until he came around to open the door for me.

It struck me as odd how quickly I got used to that again. Ten years of not even owning a damn car, and after just a few days, I was already used to someone driving me around again. It felt weird and perfectly normal all at the same time.

I shook my head, marched up the steps, and dropped myself down on the living room couch. The lower level of the house was quiet, but I could hear voices coming from upstairs. Soon they grew louder, and Tria descended the steps with Michael and Chelsea.

“I thought I heard Damon pull up,” Michael said as he turned the corner and saw me on the couch. “How did it go?”

“It was total f*cking bullshit,” I said immediately, “and I’m not going back.”

Michael cleared his throat and glanced from me to Tria to Chelsea. Tria narrowed her eyes a little and squished her lips together as she looked at me.

“I think I’ll let you handle this one,” Michael said. He took Chelsea’s hand and headed toward the door. “We have an engagement at the club this evening. Ben is here to cook until eight if you want him to make anything for you.”