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“Of course you’re a victim, Layla. Tell me what you remember. Something made you quite upset.”

Visions of Nick flash through my mind. Passionate nights of ripping each other’s clothes off. Darkness along with pain. I also recall sunshine, warm bread, and joy. And the cold steel of a gun.

My head pounds, and the room starts to close in on me. “Bring me back to him. I want to go back there.”

She shakes her head. “No. We’ve had enough for today.”

I lurch upward causing her to flinch. “But this proves there was a cabin. This proves he was real.”

“This proves nothing to me, Layla…It’s enough the police are going to conduct another search and scan their database. If there is a man who fits the description of the Archer, the police will figure it out. Until then, if there is no concrete proof, nothing changes.”

The Archer…not Nick. I breathe a sigh of relief. Even in my unconscious state, I’m protecting his identity. She rests her hand on my arm. A bold move since she’s apparently scared of me. My shoulders stiffen, adrenaline rushes through my tense muscles. If I touch her, the guard will have me in a choke hold in no time.

I settle these intrusive, violent thoughts.

Violence isn’t the answer. Even if my initial instinct is to protect him.

Growing dizzy again, I sink back into the leather couch. Regina leans back in her chair, observing me as an awkward silence settles between us.

“Can I go home now?” I ask.

She scribbles in her notebook before advancing her eyes toward me. “A car will come get you tomorrow to take you back home to Stormwood. You will spend a few weeks there, and I will decide with your mother what is next for your psychiatric care.”

Fuck…Fuck! I knew this would happen.

She continues writing, so I clamp my jaw shut, deciding not to say anything else to make things worse.

When she’s done, she glances at the clock, then back at me. “Layla, Toby Myers is still the primary suspect until the police prove otherwise. You understand, yes?”

How does she not see this? How is she this stupid?

I close my eyes and shake my head, and the image of Nick comes flowing back, and it dawns on me why I couldn’t get the right image of the Archer right on my painting. Nick’s eyes are sweet, innocent, and protective. The Archer’s eyes are something else entirely. The Archer would kill me without hesitation, and Nick is the only reason I’m still alive. So, which one of them fucked me in my sleep last night?

“Layla?” Regina pulls me from my deep thoughts. “Please acknowledge my question.”

My eyes pop open. “I understand.”

“I’m going to prescribe you something stronger for a couple days to help you relax. You are not to go anywhere but to the pharmacy and then home.”

I stiffen. “No more drugs. I need a clear head.” I’m finally seeing things clearly. Two versions of the same man, and potentially something else.

She blinks twice at me and reaches out with the prescription. “I may have to insist.”

I snatch the piece of paper out of her hand. “Fine, I’ll pick them up at the clinic tonight.”

“Use this as an opportunity to clear your head, get some fresh air. I’ll meet you at home in Stormwood tomorrow evening, and we can continue your sessions.” I’m weak…weak. She knows the Archer is my weakness. “Layla, please listen to me, not as your doctor, but as a friend. I am extremely concerned about you.”

Chapter 16

It’s nearly dark by the time I leave Regina’s office, and it’s drizzling, so I pull my hood over my head, covering my face. I’m sure the cops are tailing me, but I go exactly where I said I would. By the time I get off the SkyTrain, it’s raining cats and dogs. I jog to the urgent care two blocks away.

I need to be careful. If Beth finds out what I’m doing, she won’t like it. She’ll punish me and not in the way I like.

I don’t know who to trust anymore. Sarah, Beth, and Regina each have ulterior motives. Regina’s on the Ashby payroll, Sarah is obsessed with the Constellation Killer that may or may not exist, and Beth…well, I can’t say what her true motives are.

Nick, or whoever he is, hasn’t tried to contact me since yesterday. I like to think about him as the soft eyes behind the Archer. The man behind the beast.

As I approach the urgent care, my hands curl to fists. Enough hypnosis. Enough therapy. Enough bullshit. I have everything I need to prove if this man is real.