Melissa really played things up. She was almost as good of an actress as she was a psychologist. The hospital staff really believed that she was this compassionate soul who was oh so happy to welcome me into her home and care for me, expecting nothing in return.
But at the last minute, one of the nurses saw the fear in my eyes. “You okay, honey?”
“What’s wrong?” Melissa asked, faking concern.
“She looks frightened,” the nurse pointed out. “Look into her eyes.”
Melissa pretended to study me, daggers of warning stabbing into my eyes. “Yes, perhaps a little, but isn’t this only natural? She only knew me from the dozen or so times we met at my office, and, well, this has got to be a rather scary change for her. Recently divorced. A debilitating accident. This is huge.”
“I’m sure it is.” But the nurse wasn’t convinced. “Are you scared, sweetie?”
I dared to blink once.
“Was she given anything to help her relax?”
“No, just pain medication. But she’ll never be left alone, and I’ll make sure that she has all her needs met, and I’m sure the daycare people will do so as well. Having gotten to know her through our sessions, I think she’s just been through some pretty big and scary changes. But I have confidence that she’ll adjust and feel more secure in time as she gets comfortable in her new environment.”
I could tell that the nurse still felt uncomfortable and unsure of what to think, but I don’t think she had much choice but to let me go home with the enemy and hope for the best.
Melissa was silent on the drive to her home. I knew right where she was going, too. I’d seen it on a map online. I was a part-time detective and a pretty good people snoop. I knew exactly where she lived. It was in a three-bedroom house built in the eighties in a small town. It was on a quiet little street with a variety of houses. Melissa’s house was a single-story, but some of the surrounding houses had two stories.
I had been strapped into the seat so that I couldn’t pitch forward or slump to the side. Because I had very little head movement, I could really only see what was directly in front of me.
We soon pulled off the dark asphalt and onto a light-colored driveway. Melissa clicked the button on her visor, and the door to the double car garage opened. An old car that didn’t look like it got used very much sat on one side of the garage. I assumed it was her husband’s car.
Would Melissa dare abuse me with him around?
Still not saying a word—which made Melissa seem even scarier—she stopped the car, got out, and pulled my wheelchair out from behind my seat. Then she yanked open my door, quickly unlatched my seatbelt, and roughly pulled me out. Nearly thrown into the wheelchair, she then roughly placed my feet on the footrests. I thought she was going to break my ankle for a minute. Then she wheeled me into the house. The garage was attached to the house, and there were no stairs, so it was relatively easy enough to do. The chair just barely managed to clear the doorway.
The house was still and quiet. A faint floral smell was present, but no sound. Disappointment settled in the pit of my stomach. There was no husband present. Not even any pets, from what I could see.
I felt a new surge of hope when I realized that it was still relatively early in the day and that Melissa’s husband might simply not be home yet.
Melissa threw her handbag and a bag containing some things I’d gathered at the hospital onto her kitchen counter.
Then, without a word, she pushed me down a hallway. I could see three bedrooms: one on each side and one straight ahead. She wheeled me into the one on the right. Once I was inside the room, she shoved the chair with such force that my feet rammed into the platform of the twin bed. She obviously didn’t care that, while I couldn’t move, I could still feel things.
I began to regret not trying harder to prevent Melissa from taking me home with her.
My back was facing her, so I couldn’t see what she was doing behind me after she’d left the room and then returned again. All I could hear was the rustling of items being placed and arranged on the dresser.
Next, she roughly spun me around to face her with such force that I slumped to one side. She grabbed my ponytail and pulled me upright. I could only scream in pain in my mind.
Then she adjusted my head so that my eyes were level with hers as she sat on the edge of the bed and faced me with dark eyes full of contempt and disgust I couldn’t begin to understand.
But then she slowly began to explain.
“Some writers have the gift of entertaining others with their words,” she began. “Others have the gift of enlightening and inspiring others. And then there are those whose words destroy lives.”
What? What was she talking about? My letter? But how had it destroyed lives?
“Yeah, Katie, did you ever stop to think of that before you wrote it?”
No, I hadn’t. I’d sent the letter to her and assumed it would remain confidential. I’d made no threats against myself or anyone else and couldn’t imagine what I could have possibly said that would “destroy” anyone.
“There’s another Melissa that works in the building.”
Uh-oh. So that was it?
“That would be Dr. Melissa Gilliam. See the similarities in names?”
Oh, boy. I think I now had a pretty good idea where she was going with this.
“Well, your lovely letter was accidentally delivered to her, which she automatically assumed was meant for her, and she read it.”
She continued to stare at me hatefully. I never would’ve imagined that she, of all people, could be capable of so much anger.
“Let me tell you something else, Miss Hot Shit Writer. Not only did your letter get reported before it was brought to my attention, thus causing you to cast false and unfair suspicion upon me, but you also succeeded in breaking up my marriage.”
What?! Now she was getting a little carried away. How in the world could I possibly be responsible for all this? I didn’t deliver the mail… and break up her marriage? Give me a break, lady!
“My marriage may have been on the rocks for a while now, but you’re the one to snap that last remaining link. Niall and I were just on our way to working things out, but then you had a go and imply that we were more than patient and therapist and that I led you on and all that shit. He spotted the letter, which I left sitting on the counter, and he was curious, so he read it.”
And this was my fault? My mind scrambled to recall the words I had written. Where in the world had I ever given that impression in the letter? Had Melissa simply lost her mind and found me an easy scapegoat in which to place blame for her failed marriage? Or was something else going on that I wasn’t aware of? There was simply no honest-to-God way I could think of that would cause any other reader to even think such a thing, although I did mention being disappointed when she told me she wouldn’t have called me had I not contacted her after she seemed happy to receive my info a few months earlier. I never said or hinted that we’d gone beyond patient and therapist, despite the fact that we both seemed to have a genuine fondness for each other.
I was truly sorry if my letter had been misdelivered and misinterpreted, causing her to fall under scrutiny at work, and then to have the rift between her and her husband widen, but I honestly didn’t see how it was my fault. I wasn’t the one to misdeliver the letter, nor did I leave the letter lying around where her husband might see it. Any problems Melissa and her husband had certainly began long before I entered the picture.
My heart sunk even further into the pit of my stomach at the reality of my situation. I really was alone with this raging bitch.
Alone and unable to run.
ns216.73.216.158da2
and then Add to home screen.