The Break-Up Retreat(46)

“She’s worries about me.” Leyla looks away.

“Because it didn’t work, did it?” Martina continues. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t be, as you said, putting words in your mouth. How have your relationships gone, Leyla?”

Leyla shakes her head, muttering something to herself.

“What was that?” Martina raises her eyebrows.

“I don’t have to take this from you.” Leyla stands up from her chair.

She turns to the door, and Martina raises her voice, just a little bit.

“If you leave now, you can leave Himlafall,” she says. There’s no edge to her words, no open anger; there doesn’t need to be.

“You can stay here, and participate, or you can go. It’s up to you.”

Leyla is standing very still, her back turned to us.

There is a part of me that wants to stand up with her, take her arm. And just go. Leave and not look back.

Go , a voice inside me whispers, urging her on. Go on, leave. Get out of here .

“I won’t force you to do anything.” Martina is sweeter, now. Concerned.

It’s masterful, really.

“But I want you to ask yourself if you’re just repeating the same pattern again.”

Leyla isn’t moving.

The sinking feeling in my belly gets deeper and darker.

“This is exactly like what happened with Alexia, isn’t it?” Martina delivers the name like a gift, and I see Leyla flinching; see her every breath growing shorter.

“She asked you to open up, and you wouldn’t. So you walked away. Like you always do. And now you’re trying to walk away again.”

Leyla turns around, slowly. Her lips are gray; her eyes suspiciously shiny.

“I told you that in confidence,” she says.

“Because you trusted me,” Martina responds. “And I’m asking you to trust me, again.”

She walks up to Leyla and takes her hands, ever so gently, between her own.

“Do you really want to end up like your mother, Leyla?” she asks, barely more than a breath, yet every syllable rings out in the room.

Leyla draws a quick, sharp inhale.

I see the moment she gives herself over.

“No,” she says.

Martina embraces her.

“I know,” Martina murmurs, rubbing her back in soft circles, as Leyla begins to cry. “I know.”

Clara is covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide and shining with admiration. Pernilla is gritting her teeth, a vein jumping in her temple.

When I look at Martina, I see, for but a second, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

And she’s looking directly at me.

to: [email protected]

fr: [email protected]

05:11 09/27–2023

Subject: Filing a complaint against Doctor Martina Hastings

Hello,

I am writing to you with the intention of filing a complaint against Doctor Martina Hastings, as well as the treatment center she founded and now runs, the Himlafall Clinic. I believe she is a danger to her patients, that her license needs to be taken away, and the clinic in question needs to be shut down.

I was a patient at the Himlafall Clinic. My experiences there were very traumatic, and I wish to remain anonymous, so I will not reveal my name or the dates of my stay there, but I urge you to take this complaint seriously and launch an investigation.

The Himlafall Clinic was described to me as a place where patients could go to receive help with their romantic lives. The fee for a stay is very steep, and I paid all my savings in order to secure a spot there. But once there, I found myself in an incredibly toxic environment.

Rather than support and uplift her clients, Doctor Martina Hastings and her colleagues engaged in a targeted brainwashing campaign against me. They attempted to convince me I was a horrible person, and tried to gaslight me into thinking I was irreversibly broken. They refused to listen to what I said, instead pushing their own narrative.

I got the impression that the psychologist who treated me, Doctor Nina, had taken a negative view of me immediately, and was trying to break me down on purpose. I was in an incredibly vulnerable position, and if I had had a weaker sense of self, I am sure I would have given in to their narrative.

The Himlafall Clinic is dangerous. Doctor Martina Hastings preys on the weak, and causes horrible, lasting damage. She is completely unfit to be a psychologist. I suspect she might herself be an undiagnosed narcissist, and that she was drawn to the profession because she was lured by the prospect of being in power over those weaker than herself.

Doctor Martina Hastings should have her license taken away. She should, quite honestly, be in prison for the harm she has caused.

If you have any care or concern for those in her care, please do something about it.

Best regards,

xxx





Chapter 26


Leyla is still there, when we get back from the break; sitting in her chair, her eyes puffy and red. I feel a bit of the tension in my shoulders releasing when I see her.

I take the seat next to Leyla, sinking into the chair and leaning over, whispering to her:

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Leyla’s voice is faint. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask, my lips barely moving. “I can go with you. Say you’re sick, or something. I’ll walk you to the cabin.”