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Nina threw her keys on the side table in her foyer and headed straight to the kitchen. Though she’d had a couple cups of coffee at the donut shop, not sleeping last night was catching up with her, and she needed more. A cold gust of wind blew into the kitchen, and the door to the backyard swung open. Though they usually left the door unlocked, she never left it ajar. She figured one of the girls might have this morning. She shut the door and locked it then made a pot of coffee.
She couldn’t remember exactly what time Rodney had scheduled her appointment, so she removed her notebook from the drawer. Her hands opened the planner. She screamed.
1) Die
2) Die
3) Die
4) Die
5) Die
The word was written in a bright red that looked like blood. She flipped though the book, and the word die was written on every page. Rodney could be insensitive, but he definitely wouldn’t have done it. Someone else had to have been in the house and must have left the back door open on the way out. It must have been the person following her. But she didn’t know the identity of the person or what he or she wanted.
Nina threw the book in her purse. It felt as though she’d found a tarantula in between the pages. She ran out the front door. She wasn’t safe in her own home.
***
NINA PARKED OUTSIDE of Dr. Austin’s office then raced through the lot. Opening the door, she entered the reception area and slumped into an empty chair. She ignored the coffee table lined with magazines. Elbows to her knees, she cradled her head in her hands. She had no idea what was going on, or even if she was on time for her appointment, but things were spiraling out of control, and she was losing her grasp on reality.
“Nina? Are you ready to come in?” Dr. Austin asked.
Without answering, Nina got up and followed Dr. Austin to her office.
“How are you doing?”
Nina reached into her purse. She pulled out the notebook, opened it, handed it to Dr. Austin, and took a seat on the couch.
Dr. Austin squinted as she flipped through the pages then focused on Nina, her mouth opened in a question. She placed the notebook on her desk. “Tell me about this.”
Tears fell. “I don’t know what’s going on. I just don’t know.”
Dr. Austin’s blue eyes focused on Nina. “Did you write that?”
Nina shook her head. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. Someone’s been following me. Threatening me. I think they wrote that in my notebook.”
“I hear you. As you know, Rodney called me. He said you’ve been acting somewhat...” Dr. Austin paused. “Somewhat... off. How do you feel? Is that assessment fair?”
Definitely fair. “Yeah.”
“Can you tell me more?”
“Crazy stuff keeps happening, and I don’t know if it’s because...” Nina bit her lip.
“You don’t know if it’s because what?”
Nina wanted to tell Dr. Austin about killing Kevin. But she couldn’t. She doubted patient-therapist confidentiality included confession of murder. She pressed her hands to her head and closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Look at me, Nina.” Dr. Austin’s index finger pointed to her eyes.
Dr. Austin’s eyes were kind and compassionate but wouldn’t stay that way if she knew what Nina had done. She couldn’t tell her. But she had to tell someone.
“So you’re feeling confused?”
Nina could admit that. “Yes.”
Dr. Austin wrote on her notepad. “Do you want to say more?”
Nina moved her head side to side slowly. “No.”
“I’m always honest with you. So I’m going to say this. I’m worried about you. I’m going to call your psychiatrist and discuss what he thinks is best going forward. But if you feel like you are too disoriented or like you could harm yourself or another person, call 9-1-1, or go to the hospital.”
Nina sighed. “It’s too late. I’m dangerous.”
“Nina, I’ve been seeing you for a year, and I’ve never known you to pose a threat to anyone. Though the common stereotype is that mentally ill people are violent, the fact is that people with mental health conditions are not more likely to be violent or dangerous. But they are more likely to be victims of crime. Now, if you think someone is targeting you, that’s serious, and I’m not ignoring you.” Dr. Austin grabbed a tissue and handed it to Nina. “Are you sure you don’t have anything you want to talk about? It’s like something has traumatized you since your last appointment. Has something happened with Rodney or the girls?”
The girls. If she confessed, she’d never be able to live in her home, take care of her girls, or be with Rodney. She’d be in prison the rest of her life. It’d been so hard when they were taken away from her before. She couldn’t be responsible for it happening again. “No. Nothing’s happened.”
Dr. Austin reached into her desk’s drawer and removed a document. “I’d like us to go over your crisis plan again. But before we do, I need you to promise me one thing.”
Nina leaned forward. “What’s that?”
“Don’t do anything rash. If anything changes and you feel like you’re losing control, give me a quick call, and we’ll figure something out.”
“Okay. I will.” Nina wished she’d called Dr. Austin on Saturday night before she’d barged into Deja’s apartment to catch her with Rodney. But she hadn’t.
With a heavy heart, Nina reviewed the crisis plan she’d created with Dr. Austin, wishing it could somehow help her. After the appointment, she called Deja on her way home and told her she’d let Candace know to expect her. It was still early enough that they had plenty of time before Rodney would get back.
Nina made a quick stop at the liquor store and bought a bottle of Hennessey. When she arrived home, Nina searched every room in the house to make sure nothing was out of place. Though she didn’t feel completely safe, she couldn’t risk someone doing something to her family and had to make sure it was clear. She inspected the girls’ room last. With the dresser drawers slightly open with clothes partially hanging out of them, children’s books, dolls, and stuffed animals tossed on the floor, and their beds not made, it was messier than Nina usually allowed it to be. Not only had she neglected most housework the past week, but she’d been neglecting her daughters. Growing up, she’d grown accustomed to her house being a mess and to neglect as a result of her mom’s illness, and Nina had always promised that when she had her own children, she’d be the opposite. She’d kept her promise until this past week, and she didn’t know how to return to who she’d been before killing Kevin.
Back in her room, she lay on her side of the bed, staring at the clock next to her bed. It turned to three thirty. The moment she’d feared every afternoon this week had arrived.
“Mommy!” the girls called. Nina could almost see them charging through the house.
Little fists pounded her door, then the doorknob shook. “Your door’s still locked, Mommy. Open up,” Laila said.
Nina didn’t want to worry the girls by disappearing. They’d had months of her out of the house, and they were starting to feel secure that she was back in their lives. But she definitely couldn’t get away with acting as though she hadn’t killed Kevin—she had. She’d taken a bottle, hit him over the head, and killed him. There was no way she could hug the girls with blood on her hands.
“Mommy!” Bree called, pounding on Nina’s door. “You better yet?”
Nina dragged her feet to the door. Her hand reached the doorknob. Then it fell. She tiptoed back to the bed, picked her phone off the dresser, and texted Candace. “Still feeling sick. Tell the girls. And when Deja comes, have her come to my room.”
“K,” Candace texted back.
“Girls, leave Mommy alone. She’s still not feeling well,” Candace said.
“Aww,” Laila whined.
“Can we make her soup?” Bree asked.
“Sure. Let’s see what we have in the kitchen,” Candace said.
Then there was silence. Nina couldn’t keep doing this to the girls. She had to commit to doing what was best for them, so she’d need to talk to Rodney and tell him someone had been in the house. Though she couldn’t give him all the details, she’d have to tell him enough to know there was reason to be concerned. Together, they could come up with a plan to figure out who had been stalking her. But her first priority was giving the money to Deja.