Lara lay in bed, the curtains drawn and her limbs heavy. Dave came to sit on the edge of the mattress, a mug of coffee in his hand.
It wasn’t for her.
Impatient to drink it, he blew on it three times, watching her. She hated the way he did this after an episode, studying her as if she was an insect. She sometimes feared he would pin her to a board, splaying her legs and arms wide, leaving her most vulnerable parts exposed. He was biding his time, that was all.
She should call someone. Sunny would come for her. Her sister would kick the door down if she had to. But then Lara would just be the hopeless little sister pulling Sunny away from her fabulously bohemian life.
Her mother, then? No. Then Eliza would know that all her worst fears had come true. Leonard had completely disappeared by now, at last an officially listed missing person, having melted into the underworld population of the homeless. Eliza had been warned he was unlikely to ever return, and so she was stuck, still married to a phantom. So no, the last thing Lara wanted was her mother to see her like this.
Eliza and Sunny thought Lara was safe in the care of her kindly psychologist boyfriend.
‘I’ve sorted out your pills,’ he said, sipping his beverage.
‘I don’t need them.’
‘Yes, you do. I’m the doctor here, remember.’
He wasn’t actually. Not yet.
He laid his hand on her face the way a mother might check a child’s temperature, except it wasn’t comforting. It felt heavy; he was slowly pushing down on her. He moved his hand to her neck. She tried to move her head, to get the weight off her, but the pillow held her on the other side. She had to escape. She flung her arm up to push him away but he caught her wrist in his hand, his fingernails sharp in her flesh.
‘Stop being so childish.’
She began to sob. Again. She’d gone through two sets of clothes today already, discarding them as they became wet with tears.
‘You don’t know what you’re doing. You need to trust me, Lara. I’m here to help. You’re not in your right mind.’
He released her wrist and she rolled away from him, burying her face in the pillow. She felt his weight leave the mattress.
‘I’ll get your pills.’
‘I don’t want them!’ she screamed. ‘Please,’ she begged, whimpering now. ‘They’re making me worse. I know they are.’
You’re making me worse.
‘Oh, honey,’ he said gently. ‘How much worse could you get?’