48
I Don’t Want Your Help
Emily's Search History: ethical boundaries of treating a partner for suspected homicide
Emily
“WhatifIdon’tlike what I find?” Eli asks, his eyes wide.
“Then we’ll deal with that together. I’m here, okay?”
He blows out a breath before closing his eyes. “I’m ready.”
I take a seat in front of him, our knees touching. “I’m going to tap your legs as we talk. Focus on the taps.” I raise two fingers, moving them slowly. “Left. Right. Left. Right.”
I continue tapping, keeping the rhythm steady. I don’t move on until Eli’s shoulders ease.
“I want you to think about the last memory you have of Jenny.”
His fists clench at his sides.
“Left. Right. Left. Right.”
“Keep that image in your mind. Now tell me—where are you?”
He breathes deeply before responding, eyes squeezed shut. “In my house.”
Left. Right. Left. Right.
“What do you see?”
He flinches. “She’s not supposed to be there.”
“Who?”
“She shouldn’t be there.” His arms begin to shake.
“Left. Right. Left. Right.”
“What can you hear?”
“She shouldn’t be there.”
“Eli. Open your eyes. Focus on my hands.”
His eyes fly open.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
I wait until his gaze tracks my movements, until he’s anchored again.
“Go back to that day. What can you hear?”
“He’s laughing at me.”
“How do you feel?”
His fingers twitch in time with my taps.