Layla had been in Brownwood Hospital for five days, which was a little bit longer than she had expected. She began to realize that they were keeping her because she would not talk to Dr. Crane. He would come in every day, and she would sit on the bed looking out the window. She would not answer any of his questions or even respond to them. She hated ignoring him, and found it extremely hard, but she felt like she had to. He would never believe the truth. That is why she kept quiet. No one would believe it.
Unfortunately, after spending five days there, she was desperate, so she decided she would open up to him. After all, he did trust her before, he might trust her now.
Dr. Crane entered the same time he did every day. He sat down in the chair in the corner where he always did. She knew he was mad at her for giving him the silent treatment. "So, Layla, are you ready to talk to me?" he asked as he had the last couple of days. "Yes" she said, almost whispering.
He was shocked to hear her speak. It took him a minute to realize she was actually speaking to him. When he finally regained composure he spoke again. "Well, let's start out slowly, if you are ready to talk to me". She nodded.
"Why do you hate this place?" he asked, still expecting to be ignored. Layla took a deep breath. "I guess it's because..." she began hesitantly "I fell trapped here...like I'm in a cage, and...no one will let me out...The walls seem to close in a little more every day...and I just want to go home."
"You're claustrophobic?" he observed. The scarecrow part of him was very amused by this, but he himself wanted to help her. She nodded to answer his question. "Is that your worst fear? Being trapped?...Closed in?" he asked almost out of necessity. "I guess so" the young girl answered.
"Why have you ignored me the past three days?" the doctor asked, afraid she would stop talking again. "Because I didn't think you would believe me". "About what?". She did not say anything, she just looked down at her bandaged right wrist.
"Are you ready to talk about it now?" he asked gently. She nodded. He knew she was not the kind of person who would try to kill herself. He tried to phrase his sentence as carefully as possible. "why would you hurt yourself, Layla?". Tears welled up in her eyes. "I didn't" she said quietly. "What?" he asked shocked.
"It's hard to explain, but...I was reading when she came in." "Who?" "My stepmother. She...she had something behind her back, and she started walking toward me. She grabbed my wrist, and cut me before I even realized she had a razor...She put the razor in my hand right before my dad walked in, and I was so freaked out by all the blood that I didn't notice." She was crying now, and flinching at the memory.
"You can't even stand the sight of blood, can you?" he asked, observing her repulsion. She shook her head. Jonathan looked almost horrified. "You're telling the truth" he said trying to comprehend the story she had told him. With all his psychology training he was practically a human lie detector. He knew she was telling the truth.
"You believe me?" she asked, still crying. He walked over and sat on the bed where she was, facing her. "Yes, I believe you" he said sincerely. He was still in shock, when she leaned in and began to cry on his shoulder once again. He slowly wrapped his arms around her to comfort her.
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It just keeps getting sadder! The bad news is it's going to get worse before it gets better. The good part is it will get better. Please review.
