Don't forget he brought you here. He stole your life. He knew all about Brian. He didn't warn you. It's his fault. He took everything from you.
None of that seemed to matter now that her mind had reopened the possibility of him inside her. All the old fantasies began spinning through her mind again no matter how hard she tried to shut it down.
“I told you, I wasn't fucking you tonight.” the calm in his voice felt like a lie hiding a terrifying intensity beneath the surface.
Why did not fucking her suddenly sound like the threat?
“I hate you,” she said. She needed to hear it out loud. She needed to believe it was still true because this... this shift... had happened too quickly for her to keep up.
“You'll get over it soon enough,” he said, as he continued to guide her to her fate.
Suddenly he took your life, kept bumping up against he saved you... twice. What if she didn't want to be saved?
But what if she did?
When they reached the stairs that led down to the dungeons, all the memories started crowding into her mind. She could practically feel Brian's hot breath in her ear as he whispered the awful things he would do to her to... fix her. As if she'd been broken before he'd gotten his hands on her.
Shannon tugged back to free herself from Lindsay's grasp. She dug her heels in as if this could stop him. “Please!” It was a panicked shriek this time.
In response, the doctor scooped her up and carried her down the rest of the stairs.
“N-not Cell A. Please. Not Cell A.” Like it made any difference which room he took her to. They were all marked by Brian's violent energy.
Lindsay opened Cell C, stepped inside, and set her down on her feet. He retrieved a key from his pocket and locked them in together.
She backed away until she reached the stone wall. It felt solid against her back, so much more solid than she felt right now. “I-I think I'm having a panic attack,” she gasped. The room kept seeming to shrink and grow and change shape. The one bare bulb in the room at once seemed both two bright and too dim.
Surely a panic attack would bring him back to his senses.
“It won't kill you. If you give into it every single time, it will gain more and more power over you. I made a big mess, Shannon. I'll admit that. The things I've done or failed to do where you're concerned... I don't deserve to be forgiven for it, but that method obviously didn't work. We're trying something else. Call it... exposure therapy.”
She'd never been truly scared of the doctor before. She'd hated him, but she'd never been afraid. She'd never feared anyone in this house but Brian. But now, all that was changing.
He moved to stand beside a St. Andrew's cross and pointed to it.
“Please, n-not that.”
“Was this the equipment Brian used?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Did he use any other equipment?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“Did he use anything on you besides a knife and a whip?”
“No, Sir.”
“What kind of whip?”
“S-single tail. B-bullwhip.” Could she not stop stuttering? She should remember after Brian that showing weakness was the worst thing she could do. Fear, weakness, screaming, begging, it had all been like a drug to Brian.
She couldn't stop hearing the sickening crack of the whip, or feeling the slice of the knife—somehow a thousand times worse than the whip. All that blood. So much blood. She'd thought she was going to die. Finally it stopped. Somehow she knew she'd been left to die. He was bored with her, and she was beyond fixing. She'd been moving in and out of consciousness when strong arms had wrapped around her and carried her out of the dungeon.
Lindsay.
Her last thought before she'd lost consciousness again had been, you're too late. She wasn't sure how she felt about being wrong in that prediction.
“Shannon, stay with me.”
She looked up, trying to slam the door closed on those memories. They just kept coming back no matter what she did. No matter how she tried to coax them into staying hidden away in the dark corners where they belonged, they always slithered out to meet her.
She'd thought with time they would fade. Time didn't heal wounds. It was a lie. But she'd been sure that with time she wouldn't be so terrified of Brian. That day never came, and the nightmares had only gotten worse. Why was the doctor always just in time? Why couldn't he have been too late?
“I will never use any of those things with you,” Lindsay said.
What did he mean never? Did he plan on bringing her down here again after tonight? She didn't understand any of this. What did this mean? Did he think he was going to somehow make her want to live by pretending he wanted her?
He didn't want her. She knew he didn't. They both knew he didn't. The mangled mess Brian had made of her back, her shoulders... some marks straying around and hugging her hips and waist... nobody could ever want her after that. She'd seen it in the eyes of the trainers at the house. They didn't think she noticed, but she did.
Lindsay was no different. He'd never even pretended with her. He'd never touched her when her skin was perfect and unmarred, why would he want to start now?
Suddenly her legs didn't want to support her anymore. She slid to the ground.
“You can't do this. Y-you'll break me.”
As if he cared. Nobody needed to make money off of her so it hardly mattered if she was a functional human being. They didn't need her for the spa. Not really. They could figure something out. After all, what had their plan been before Brian had done his damage? Surely they'd had some alternate idea for how to keep the spa going. The spa had already been there, set up and ready to go when she'd arrived at the house. It wasn't as though their plans had hinged on her being there.
The doctor stared at her for a long time and sighed. “You're already broken. I tried to look the other way for so long, and I can't anymore.” He paused and looked away as if lost in his own haunted thoughts. When he turned back to her, the intensity in his eyes was even stronger than before.
He spoke more softly, “There's no other way out but through, Shannon. I think you know that.”
He was doing that thing again. That thing where he sounded so reasonable and like a doctor. Lindsay somehow managed to make everything he said sound like it was the best possible solution to anything. Even when it was the worst. Even when it was completely insane. Like coming to the house.
With that low soothing gravel-voice and the attentiveness at all the right places... The way he seemed to really listen when you talked. That was some active listening bullshit they taught them at Shrink Camp. Pretend like you give a shit—like you care about helping them. Then cash their check and drive your fancy car. Laugh all the way to the bank. Live your life of comfort and luxury on top of the ruins of the psyches you've broken with all your help.
He had always been there... pretending. Didn't shrinks always do that? Weren't they pretending? You felt like they were your friend. But they weren't. They were being paid to make you feel that way.
“Please don't pretend you care about me. I can't take it,” Shannon said. She hadn't bothered to try to get back up. Too much had happened tonight. She was so exhausted. She wanted to sleep for a hundred years.