Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
He cares about me. He truly wants the best for me. That sentiment is right there in his misty eyes. He’s withholding that emotion for my benefit because he knows this is going to be hard for me. Perhaps one of the hardest days of my life.
“I’ll tell your mother anything you want me to,” he says. “If you give me permission to speak freely about our sessions. I think this is the right thing to do. I think you’ll be surprised how much of a burden this secret has been.”
“Okay.”
Both of them are surprised, but when I rise from the chair, they edge toward the door, preparing for me to change my mind any second. There’s no point in fighting it now. Calder has already told her the worst of it. I can tell by his blotchy red eyes.
We walk in silence to my mother’s suite, and there’s no sign of my father in sight.
“He left with Narcissa.” Calder reads my thoughts. “I doubt they’ll be back for a while.”
Nodding, I steady myself as Dr. Blom opens the door to my mother’s room and gestures us inside. She’s in her chair again, and I don’t know how she’s even managing to stay upright as weak as she is right now.
“You should be in bed.” I come to kneel before her.
“Oh, Thorsen.” She reaches out for me with a trembling arm, pulling me close as she lets out a heart-wrenching sob. “I’ve failed you. My god, I have failed you.”
“No.” I look up at her. “You never did anything wrong.”
“I should have known.” A river of tears flows down her cheeks. “I should have pushed more for answers.”
“I wouldn’t have told you,” I insist. “It wouldn’t have mattered what you did.”
“All these years, you were so angry, and I never understood what happened.” Her body shakes beneath the weight of her grief. “Why couldn’t you come to me?”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me?” Her voice fractures. “Thorsen, I’m your mother. It was my job to protect you.”
“I’m sorry.” I bow my head, trying to quiet the raging storm in my mind.
“You went to your father?” she questions. “And he didn’t believe you?”
When I don’t reply, Dr. Blom steps in.
“May I?” He gestures to the empty seat beside us, and I nod.
“Your Highness—”
“Please, just call me Frida.”
“Frida,” he agrees. “It isn’t uncommon for children to keep the abuse secret in these circumstances. Thorsen went to someone he thought of as his protector, and he was punished for it. In Thorsen’s mind, it only compounded his shame. I think it would be very difficult for anyone to trust that someone would believe or help him after such a betrayal of trust. Perhaps this would explain why he didn’t feel he could tell anyone else.”
“Calder said he mocked you.” My mother’s fist curls in her lap, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry. “Is that true?”
“You know what he’s like,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Her face crumples, and her tears multiply, making me feel like an asshole all over again.
“I’m not upset with you, Thor,” she assures me as Calder hands her some tissues. “I just… I would give anything to change this. To go back and fix it for you.”
“But you can’t. It was a long time ago.”
“Is this why?” she croaks. “Is this why you tried to hurt yourself before?”
When I don’t answer, Dr. Blom intervenes. “Would you like me to tell her, Thorsen?”
“Please,” she begs me. “I need to know.”
My shoulders are stiff, but I force myself to nod and then try to tune out the conversation that follows. It doesn’t work.
“Thorsen has never opened up to you about his diagnosis because he didn’t want to worry you. But I think maybe it will help you to understand. He has a peculiar form of OCD. It causes him to have intrusive thoughts about self-harm on a frequent basis.”
My mother brings an unsteady hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. “You mean… you still… have these thoughts every day?”
“They can feel uncontrollable,” Dr. Blom answers. “But they are manageable if the patient is willing. Thorsen has a prescription that can often be helpful if he were taking it.”
I scowl at him, feeling betrayed by his keen observation.
“I’ve noticed a shift since your mother’s diagnosis,” he says. “You haven’t been doing the work. You’ve been telling me what I want to hear. And I suspect that you are making plans.”
Calder glares at me, and my mother breaks into hysterics again. Dr. Blom manages to calm her down with some reassuring words, but it doesn’t change the fact that she knows now.
“My oleander concentrate,” she whispers. “You took it, didn’t you?”
When I don’t respond, she nods as if she’s starting to understand.
“Your father told me I was imagining things, but I knew it had gone missing.”