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“You’ve been receptive to many different treatments. A combination of group therapy, medication, psychoanalysis, even yoga. These have been greatly beneficial to you. I think you should continue on the path we’ve set forth for you,” she said.

“What if I felt I needed to do something . . . unorthodox to fight this. Something I knew that, if I didn’t try, I would always regret it. Worse yet, I might not even have the memory to regret it.” I’d be permanently gone.

“Flynn, what are you trying to say?” she said, and stopped taking notes.

“Olivia, I just think you and I may not see eye to eye on how to get rid of Frank.”

Just then, Dr. Cross’s phone began to ring.

“So what are you saying . . . you don’t want to move forward with treatment as I’ve explained?”

The phone rang again.

“No, well . . . I mean, I think it’s really just—”

The phone. Again.

This time, Olivia picked it up. “Yes,” she snapped into the receiver. “What is it?”

She paused.

“Oh no! Is he . . .”

I knew something was wrong.

“Oh, thank God,” she said, then started sobbing. “Thank God! I’ll be right there.” Dr. Cross hung up the phone and grabbed her purse. “I’m sorry, Flynn, but . . . something has come up,” she explained, fighting back tears.

“Are you okay, Dr. Cross?”

“My husband, he’s been in a car accident.”

“I’m so sorry . . . is he okay?”

“They said he would be, but he’s broken some bones,” she said, unable to keep the tears from coming. “And he has . . . a gash on the back of his head.”

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” Seeing her like that, everything I had been going through seemed to vanish.

“I hope you’ll understand, Flynn, but I must be going. Let’s resume this conversation later. Keep up the great work and stay focused. I know you can do this,” she said, already headed for the door.

“Of course, Olivia! I understand completely,” I told her, jumping up to open the door.

“Flynn, I really am sorry. And I’m here for you, I really am. But whatever you are dealing with, we can discuss after the holiday. I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

“Of course, Olivia. I understand. I’ll see you then,” I said, feeling bad for lying. Who knew if I’d still be around when she got back? “And don’t worry . . . your husband will be okay, I’m sure. He’ll be fine and . . . I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Flynn. You’re so sweet.” With that, she kissed me on the cheek and left.

As I stood there in her doorway, I felt empty. This woman had only wanted to help me, and all she had asked of me was to listen to her—to try to fight Frank by pushing him out of my mind and envisioning a life without him in it. She had told me that he would go away naturally as I continued to work on myself over time.

And I’d done the opposite.

I mean, I knew she was the doctor, but she’d never experienced this shit. I was the patient. I was the crazy motherfucker in the thick of this shit.

“I’ve got to do this shit!” I said out loud. “Once and for all!”

I couldn’t second-guess myself anymore. I was going through with my plan, ending this shit once and for all. Tonight.

But first, I had to reach Mia.

I walked back to the phone and reluctantly picked up, fearing Frank would be on the other end. This time, I didn’t put my ear to the phone before dialing.

Ring . . . Ring . . .

Hey, this is Mia, why don’t you leave Mia message! Hahaha, get it? No? Whatever . . . just leave it at the beep.

“Hey, Mia, it’s me again. Listen, call me back . . . I’ve gotta explain how it’s going down tonight. I’ll be waiting for you in the back parking lot around nine p.m. Please, Mia.”

I hung up the phone, thinking about the outcome. I needed her. I needed Mia to end all this. I headed down the hall.

I hope she comes through.





CHAPTER 19


THE END OF THE BEGINNING


It had been all day and I still hadn’t heard from Mia.

Does she have cold feet? I thought to myself. I was starting to panic a little. I didn’t have a backup plan. It was this or nothing. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I left a few more voice mails, then hung out with Red. We went through every detail of the security guard’s route and what the best time to slip out would be. We hashed it out over a few games of chess.

The hours flew by and suddenly it was 6:00 p.m. Santa and his elves had arrived. The stage was set up with a fake sleigh and reindeer. Even good old Rudolph was in the building. The patients were loving the show. It was like it turned them into excited little children.

Six turned to seven, seven to eight. Eight turned to nine p.m. and . . . still no word from Mia. I could only hope she would be parked where I told her in the voice mail, near the hospital. I paced in my room, bouncing my red rubber ball and going over the plan again and again in my head.

I put on the Santa outfit and waited. I thought about the life I could have after this, the things I would do and experience with Mia, especially with nine million in the bank.

And I would get back to writing. This time, fact instead of fiction.