Kick (Songs of Perdition #1)(30)

I swallowed. “Excuse me?”

“What’s this about?” Margie demanded. “She’s functioning. She’s capable. I’ve seen far sicker people released on their own recognizance.”

“She’s had three violent outbursts while under our care,” Frances said.

I spun on Elliot. “You said the meds caused the outbursts.”

“I said maybe,” he said gently. “I’m sorry, but—”

Frances broke in, “And she still has no recall of the incident.”

“There was no incident,” Margie growled. “You can ask Deacon Bruce.”

“The judge thinks there was,” Frances said. “He’s concerned about letting a woman with psychotic episodes back into society.”

“We just accepted a plea deal.”

“From the prosecutor. Judge trumps lawyer.”

Margie was holding herself together admirably, but I could see her gears turning. I bet the two psychologists across the table could as well.

“Our recommendation is that she be kept here for her own safety,” Elliot said softly. He closed his little folder and stood. “I’m in session in two minutes. Excuse me.” He nodded to each of us and strode out.

I was left sitting in shock. What had just happened?

I had been so sure I was leaving. I’d said good-bye to the place, checked my room for personal items, looked at the cafeteria for the last time. Staying was worse than a defeat. It was a humiliation.

How was I letting that motherf*cker walk out of there?

I spun out of my chair and dashed into the reception area. He was just beyond the glass doors.

“Elliot,” I called.

He slowed down, as if deciding what to do.

I ran to catch up. “What happened? Come on, you know I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

He shook his head. “It’s for the best.”

“I’ll have you in session tomorrow, and I’m not saying a word until you tell me what happened.”

“Fiona, I—”

“You can shove your little pen tip up your ass. I’m going to make your life miserable.”

He smiled ruefully and looked at the floor. “I’m not your therapist anymore. I’m going back to Compton.”

“Fuck you are.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be here. I think you’ll be just fine. You’re doing great.”

“Save the platitudes for the ones who need them.”

His neck tensed, and his eyes got hard. That was my gotcha moment, and I didn’t want it. His voice went from heavy cream to wire brush, and the stroke of every syllable drew blood. “Once you get out there with your cute little plea deal, you’ll get eaten alive. Maybe by the press. Maybe by that man you almost killed. Maybe he’ll kill you this time instead of breaking your teeth. The judge on your case is not out to help you, trust me. You don’t have the tools to handle life outside these doors. You’ll go back to using, and I’m not willing to wonder if I could have done something else to help you. I’m just going to do it. This is the only way to protect you.”

“It was your job to assess my sanity. Not protect me.”

He held his hands out, his clipboard clutched in his fingers. “That’s just tough, Fiona. This was the last real thing I did here, and I’m okay with it.”

“Fuck you.”

He nodded, making me feel like a tantrum-prone child. And now what? He was going to say good-bye and leave me? No. Not allowed.

“This is not done,” I said.

“Good-bye, Fiona. Meeting you was something else.”

I turned around and ran back down the hall before he could say a word. I didn’t know what I was trying to stop. Some freight train of my thwarted expectations before it ran me over? Maybe the moment where I would wake up and realize I’d failed, and I was stuck here? So help me God, I couldn’t be there, cut off from everything for another month. Something had to be done, and if no one would do it for me, I would do it myself. I slammed past the glass doors, out of breath.

Margie stood staring at her phone.

“You have to keep Doctor Chapman here,” I said in a breath. “Make them. He can’t walk away.”

Margie heard me, I knew she did. I was right there, but she wasn’t listening.

“I f*cked up,” she said.

“How? You made a deal, they can’t—”

“Dad was right. I’m too inexperienced. I would have had my finger on the judge’s pulse if I’d known better.”

What she was saying hit me like a slap.

“No,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Fiona. I tried, but you need a better lawyer. It’s not fair to you.”

“Not fair to me? I’m here now with nothing and no one… I don’t have Elliot, and now you’re leaving? What am I supposed to do? Margie, how am I supposed to make it? Don’t leave me.” My hands were flying. I was screaming.

Margie was trying to grab my hands and shush me at the same time. “Calm down.”

“Stay, and I’ll calm down. Stay with me.”

“I can’t. It’s not the best—”

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”