I storm out of Dr. Stayner’s office then, with his shouts of, “Empathy!” following me all the way down the hall, into my room, looking for ways to crawl into my soul and torment me.
***
“How’s it going there?” I want to reach into the phone and hug Livie. It’s been seven days and I miss her terribly. I’ve never been away from her for this long. Even while I was in the hospital after the crash, she visited me almost every day.
“Dr. Stayner is definitely unconventional,” I mutter.
“Why?”
I sigh, exasperated, and then tell her what I know she doesn’t want to hear. “He’s a nut job, Livie! He yells, he pushes, he tells me what to think. He’s everything that a shrink isn’t supposed to be. I don’t know what quack school he went to, but I can see why Trent came out of here more f**ked up then he went in.”
Trent. My stomach tightens. Forget about him, Kace. He’s gone. Dead to you.
There’s a pause. “But is it working? Are you going to get better?”
“I don’t know yet, Livie. I just don’t know if anything will ever really get better.”
***
Jenny laughs hysterically as a car passes us on the road. “Did you see the look on Raileigh’s face when I belted out Super Freak? It was classic.”
I laugh along with her. “You sure you’re okay to drive?” After I jumped off the hood of George’s truck and tackled one of Billy’s friends to the ground, I knew there was no way I was in any state to get behind the wheel so I gave her my keys.
She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, yeah. I stopped drinking, like, hours ago! I’m—”
A bright flash of lights distracts us both. They’re headlights and they’re close. Too close.
My body jerks as Dad’s Audi crashes into something, my seatbelt cutting into my neck from the force as a deafening sound explodes in the air. In seconds it’s over and there’s nothing left but silence and a strange eerie feeling, like all my senses are both paralyzed and working in overdrive.
“What happened?”
Nothing. No answer.
“Jenny?” I look to my side. It’s dark now, but I can see enough to know she’s not sitting behind the wheel anymore. And I know we’re in trouble. “Jenny?” I call again, my voice shaky. I manage to unbuckle my seatbelt and open my car door. There’s that saying, scared sober. I know that’s what I am now as walk around the front of the car, keenly aware of the engine’s hiss, and the smoke rising from the mangled hood. It’s totaled. My hands push through my hair as panic rises inside me. “Ohmigod, Dad’s going to—”
A pair of sandals on the ground stop me dead.
Jenny’s sandals.
“Jenny!” I scream, scrambling over to the patch of grass where she’s lying face down, unmoving. “Jenny!” I shake her. She doesn’t respond.
I need to get help. I need to find my phone. I need to …
It’s then that I notice another hunk of metal.
Another car.
It’s in far worse shape than the Audi.
My stomach sinks. I can faintly make out the outline of people in it. I stand and start waving my arms around frantically, without thought. “Help!” I scream. There’s no point. We’re on a dark wooded road in the middle of nowhere.
Finally giving up, I creep over to the car, my heart pounding in my ears. “Hello?” I whisper. I don’t know if I’m more terrified to hear something or nothing at all.
I get no answer.
I lean in and squint, trying to get a glimpse through the broken glass. I can’t see … it’s too dark …
Snap. Snap. Snap … Like stage lights, suddenly a rush of light pours down over the area, illuminating the horrific scene within. An older couple sits hunched over in the front seat and I have to look away, the mess of bloody flesh too gruesome to handle.
It’s too late for them. I just know it.
But there’s someone in the back too. I rush over and peer in to see a broken body with raven dark hair cradled in the contorted door.
“Ohmigod.” I gasp, my knees buckling.
It’s Livie.
Why the hell is she in this car?
“Kacey.” Icy cold fingers grip my heart at the sound of my name. I peer further in and find a tall dark form sitting next to her. Trent. He’s hurt. Bad. But he’s awake and he’s looking at me with an intense stare.
“You murdered my parents, Kacey. You’re a murderer.”
The night nurse, Sara, rushes into my room just as I’m coming to, screaming at the top of my lungs. “It’s okay, Kacey. Shh, it’s okay.” She rubs my back in slow circular motions as a cold sweat breaks out over my body. She continues to do so, even as I curl up in the fetal position, hugging my knees to my chest tightly. “That one was unusually bad, Kacey.” She’s been in here a few times already, during my night time episodes. “What was it about?” I notice she doesn’t ask me if I want to talk about it. She assumes I need to, whether I want to or not. That’s the thing about this place. All they want you to do is talk. And all I want to do is stay quiet.
“Hmm, Kacey?”
I swallow the prickly lump in my throat. “Empathy.”
***
“So maybe you’re right.”
Dr. Stayner’s brow curves up in question. “Is this about the dream you had last night?”
My scowl tells him it is.
“Yes, Sara told me. She wanted me to know in case there were any concerns. That’s her job. She didn’t betray you.” He says it like it’s a line he’s said time and time again. “What happened exactly?”
For whatever reason, I tell him the entire nightmare, from beginning to end, shivers running over my body as I relive it.
“And what made it so horrible?”
I c**k my head and glare at the doctor. Clearly he hasn’t been listening to me. “What do you mean? Everyone was dead. Jenny was dead, Trent’s parents were dead. I killed Livie. It was just … so awful!”
“You killed Livie?”
“Well, yes. It’s my fault.”
“Hmm …” he nods, giving nothing away. “How did you feel when you saw Jenny lying there, dead?”
My hands press against my belly button with the thought.
“So you mourned her,” he answered for me.
“Of course I did. She was dead. I’m not a sociopath.”
“But she was driving the car that crashed into Trent’s family. Into Livie. How can you possibly mourn her?”
I’m rambling faster than I’m thinking. “Because it’s Jenny. She’d never want to hurt anyone. She didn’t do it on purpose—” I stop short and glare at him, clueing in. “Sasha is not Jenny. I see what you’re doing.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re trying to make me see Sasha and Trent as people who laugh and cry and have families.”
His know-it-all brows rise.
“It’s not the same! I hate them! I hate Trent! He’s a murderer!”
Dr. Stayner leaps out of his chair and runs over to his book shelf, pulling off the biggest dictionary I’ve ever seen. He storms over and throws it into my lap. “There. Look up the word, murderer, Kacey. Do it! Look it up!” He doesn’t wait for me to, likely feeling his asinine point made. “You’re not a stupid girl, Kacey. You can hide behind that word, or you accept it for what it is. Trent is not a murderer, and you don’t hate him. You know both are true, so stop lying to me and, more importantly, stop lying to yourself.”