He leans forward, the muscles in his arms tensing. "Come on, Doc," he urges with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me.”
“I am uncertain if he is the cause of your… inclinations. In my experience, these phenomena are not spontaneous; they are typically the consequence of a traumatic event. Your description suggests a potentially traumatic childhood that may have contributed to your current responses.”
“What is the connection between my father’s abuse and subsequent stalking?”
Because he looks so genuinely interested, I carry on, though I probably shouldn't.
“Numerous reasons are possible. Your father led you to believe you were unworthy of love. You felt worthless unless you earned it via pain, perfection, or obedience. That kind of damage doesn’t go away. It rewires you. Makes you chase connections in the only way you understand—through control.”
His slight flinch shows my words have found their mark.
“You don’t stalk because you’re evil. The act of stalking arises from a subconscious conviction that it is the sole path to connection while simultaneously mitigating the risk of emotional injury. Without being seen and rejected. You think if you give someone the choice, they’ll walk away… just like he did.”
Eli
She thinks she has me all figured out. She imagines she can plumb the depths of my mind and discover my true self.
Maybe she's right.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck!
I'm on my feet, consumed by rage at the way she’s destroying me.
"You know, I think I can stop coming to these sessions."
What am I doing?
She blinks, a little startled by my bluntness; her cheeks flush slightly.
Her eyes fill with remorse. She whispers, “Eli, please forgive me, I didn’t mean to cause you any distress.”
The door slams shut behind me as I storm out of the office, my frustration palpable in the air. My breath hitches in my lungs, a cold, sharp shock as I step outside into the frigid air.
My bike sits outside, its paint shimmering under the bright sunlight. With a kick start, I'm off, the vibration of the engine humming through my body as I try to clear my head.
“You think if you give someone the choice, they’ll walk away…”
She's right about that.
I'm extremely irritated by that.
Why is she right?
The wind whips at my face, a futile attempt to match the tempest inside. She hasn’t broken me, not exactly, but she's exposed a crack, a vulnerability I hadn't known existed, and now the icy wind of her insight threatens to shatter me completely.
14
He’s Hiding Something
Emily's Search History: Signs your patient is lying
Emily
Ican’tstopreplayingEli's furious outburst in my mind—the way his face reddened, his voice rising, and the slam of the door echoing in my ears.
This is precisely why personal opinions are not to be shared. I robbed him of the chance to figure things out on his own. He wasn't ready to hear that yet.