He nods again, scribbling on his tablet. “Could you name one thing?”
“Scoot.” This makes him laugh.
“Good old Scoot. I swear, that cat runs this house. What is it you like about him?”
I study the doctor for a moment, trying to figure out where this psychobabble might be going.
“He is what he is.”
“It’s true, animals don’t judge like people do. They’re trustworthy, loyal companions.” He tilts his head. “Were there any animals where you were held?”
The hair on my neck stands up.
“I’m thinking something that might have brought you comfort?”
“No,” I shoot back quickly, remembering I desperately want someone to talk to, someone to trust, someone to be my friend. Hell, someone or something to love.
“Okay.” Resting his head on his hand, he studies me.
I see his chest rise and fall heavily.
His lips press together before he speaks. “Can you tell me about the night you were taken?”
I hear a door slam shut in my brain.
“Time’s up, Doc,” I say, jumping to my feet. I can’t go there. I don’t want to.
He stands too, placing his tablet on his chair.
“Savannah,” he says.
I stop mid-step.
“I’ve been doing this for thirty years. I’ve seen a lot of patients and heard a lot of stories. You need my help, or this will destroy you. If you leave now, you’ll be looking over your shoulder, going mad waiting for those monsters to take you, and that’s no way to live. Take Logan’s offer. Stay and be safe, and take back your life. Only you can make that choice, but you have to want to fight. Don’t let them win.”
I wipe my wet cheeks. His words cut me. Everything he says is true, and I know it.
“Just think about it.” He opens the door for me.
I walk out and make it to a nearby bathroom where I manage to pull myself together. Looking at my red, glossy eyes in the mirror, I know what I have to do. I fuss with my off-the-shoulder green sweater, making it hang correctly over my leggings. It’s funny how my obsessive need to fix myself in case I am being watched by the media comes right back to me. I wonder what else will surface over time.