“I’m awfully tired, Julian.”
“Of course, sweetheart. You rest.” He rolls over to turn out his light, and soon after I hear the steady sound of his breathing.
I am wide awake, though, my eyes open and all my senses on high alert. The minutes tick by with agonizing slowness. The house is quiet, the world is asleep, and I feel so alone. I close my eyes and try to relax every muscle, beginning with my toes and moving up my entire body. Concentrate, I tell myself.
Cassandra.
I freeze. The voice.
While you’re in this world, Valentina is in danger. Evil. Evil mother.
“Stop, stop it!” I scream. “Go away. Stop.”
“Cassandra.” Julian’s sitting upright, shaking me, and the light is on. “You’re having a bad dream. Wake up.”
I open my eyes as wide as I can. “Julian, did you hear them?”
“Hear what?”
“The voices. Could you hear them, too?”
He pulls me close and holds me, rocking me back and forth. “It’s all right, my darling. I’m here, and everything is going to be all right. I promise.”
??48??
Cassandra
When I come downstairs, Julian’s in the kitchen. I inhale the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He has a few patient files in front of him, and he’s writing something in one of them. When he sees me, he gets up and comes toward me, concern in his eyes. “How are you? Did you get a little more sleep?”
“I did,” I say. “Thank you for—you know—for staying with me.”
The mood is somber. The last thing I remember is falling asleep in Julian’s arms last night, as he held my shaking body and whispered assurances to me. He let me sleep this morning while he took Valentina to school, but he came straight home after that. I heard him call his assistant and tell her to reschedule all of his patients, that he needed to be home today. I’m glad; I don’t want to be alone.
“You don’t have to thank me. Why don’t you sit? What can I get you?”
“Maybe a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll make a quick decaf.” He takes a pod from the stand and inserts it into the machine. “Caffeine is probably not the best thing for you right now.”
I smile wryly at this and think he’s right—what I could use is a stiff drink. “Thanks,” I say, and take a sip from the mug he hands me.
“How about something to eat?” he asks.
“I don’t think I could stomach anything.” The coffee is making me feel nauseated, and I push it away. I rub the back of my neck, wanting to tell him what the voices have been saying, but I’m afraid he’ll have me put away somewhere. But then again, maybe I should be put away. I can’t put Valentina at risk. “Julian.” My hand goes to my throat. “The voices I heard last night. I also heard them the night you were away.”
He folds his hands on the table and leans toward me.
“I want to tell you what they said.”
He straightens. “No, that’s not a good idea. You first need to talk about it in your therapy session today where you’re in a safe place.”
“Julian, you don’t understand. Nowhere is safe. Valentina isn’t safe. They’re telling me I’m going to hurt her.” I can barely get the words out through my choking, and tears are running down my cheeks.
“You would never hurt Valentina.”
I wipe the wetness from my face, shaking my head. “But what if I do? What is going to stop me?”
“Is this what the voices are telling you again, Cassandra? That you’re going to hurt her?”
My head down, I whisper, “Yes.”
He’s quiet, and I’m afraid to meet his gaze. Now he knows. Maybe he’s thinking he needs to lock me away somewhere so that I can’t hurt her. But he takes my hand and leads me from the kitchen into the conservatory. He knows I love this sunny room, and I imagine he’s thinking it will make me feel better to be in here. We sit together on the sofa that faces the window, and he puts his arm around me. Neither of us speaks for a while. Outside the sun is shining brightly, even though the temperature is freezing and there are four inches of snow on the ground. I’m already pining for spring. It feels like spring could bring new hope, but I am coming to believe that there is no hope for me.
With my head resting on Julian’s shoulder, I continue to stare out the window. “The same thing is happening all over again, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t answer, and I sit up, facing him. “I’m right, aren’t I?”