The Break-Up Retreat(90)

Anna studies her, coolly and cruelly, savoring the moment.

“Doctor,” she then says, ever so softly. “I want you to understand what you’ve done. That’s all. I want you to acknowledge the damage you’ve done.”

Martina stares helplessly at her. I see her fingers flexing at her sides, swollen and useless; her back bent, her chin quivering.

“I just wanted to help people.” Tears and blood are dripping off her face.

“BULLSHIT!” Anna screams at her, making her jump.

Anna has sprung up from her chair, and she’s breathing hard, chest pumping, teeth bared.

“Bullshit,” she repeats, again, in a lower tone of voice.

A vein is pulsing in her forehead.

“You don’t want to help people,” she continues. “You just want to help yourself. You want to take people’s money, and you want to take their love, and you want to take their lives away from them. You twist them, and you gaslight them, and you distort the truth. You’re poison , Martina. You poison people. You’re a toxic narcissist, and the truly disgusting thing is that you don’t even realize it.”

By the end, her voice has grown soft and smooth as silk. She’s almost purring.

“Ask Isobel.” She indicates me with a slight tilt of her head. “I heard her talking on the phone. She understands it. She sees you for what you really are.”

She looks over at me, something like pride in her eyes.

“I heard you talking to your friend. Saying all the things I had felt for so long.” Her eyes fill with tears.

“I almost gave up and left, you know.” She puts her hand over her heart. “Especially when you asked about me. I got scared. Thought you might be a cop, or a private investigator, or something. Come looking for me. That’s why I wrote that stupid note. I’m sorry about that, by the way, but I freaked out.

“But then, when I heard you talking to him, saying all that about Doctor Martina . . . I knew I was right. I knew I had to keep going.”

“No.” I shake my head, “I didn’t—”

“You did,” Anna insists. “Please, Isobel. You have to learn to receive praise and affection when it’s given.”

“I swear . . .” Martina’s voice wobbles. “I swear I never meant to hurt anyone. I was doing my best. I was just trying to do—I was just trying to help people see themselves and their lives for what they really are. The way I wish someone had helped me.” She’s sobbing.

“Maybe I did it wrong, maybe I made mistakes, but I never wanted to hurt anyone,” she weeps. “I care about my patients. I care about all of them.”

“Well.” Anna reaches over the desk and grabs a hold of Martina’s chin, with long, elegant fingers. She tilts it upward, and she does it carefully, so she can look into Martina’s eyes.

“In that case,” she says, “how come you didn’t recognize me when I came back, Doctor?”

Martina is staring back into her eyes, hypnotized.

“I did,” she tries to say. “Of course I did. I was so . . . proud of the progress you’d made.”

Anna stills. She looks at Martina. Searching.

A faint smile plays on her lips.

And then her grip grows stronger, and Martina groans in pain.

“No,” Anna’s words are barely more than a breath. “No, you didn’t. I know you didn’t.” She smiles.

“Because that other fucking hack of a doctor you had working here told me I’d never be allowed back in here.”

Anna lets go of Martina’s chin, wrenching her head to the side and making her cry out.

“I didn’t really think it would work, you know,” she notes, almost as if to herself. “I changed my hair, dyed my eyebrows, but I have to admit there was a part of me that really thought you’d know it was me. I thought you would see right through me. Because you see people , right? That’s your whole thing. I think a part of me was actually hoping you would. Because at least it would prove that I was someone, to you. Even if that someone was not welcome here.”

Anna’s mouth twists, and I see her eyes filling with tears.

“But I wasn’t, was I? I was no one. You didn’t even care enough to read my patient file after I left. I just told you I’d been here, gone through your program, and you accepted it. I quoted your stupid fucking books back to you, and you ate it up.” She blinks rapidly. “All I ever wanted was for you to help me. I thought you would fix it. You told me you could fix it. You made me feel like you could understand. I wrote you messages, and you told me to come here. You told me you’d help me. And I paid all that money, and I came to your little retreat, and you weren’t even here ! I wrote you on Instagram and told you I was coming, and you didn’t even answer it! You didn’t care !”

I try to get up off the couch, but I fall onto the floor, banging my knees and biting my tongue. When I look up, Anna is staring at me, her eyebrows raised in vague distaste.

“Isobel, you’re going to have to wait your turn.” She’s mocking me, but there is something darker underneath her derisive tone.

Then she opens the desk drawer and pulls something out. She snaps her fingers at Martina.

“Hey. HEY! Look at me!”

Martina looks up.