wanted to skewer her.
“You don’t know how it is,” Elise said.
“Try me.”
Silence. Elise fidgeted.
“I want you to know that it was absolutely wrong for Officer Nance to have sex with you.”
“I said it was okay. It’s not like he raped me or anything.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“So?”
Another sigh. “There are several reasons why it’s wrong, not just because you’re underage. He’s a guard, he’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you.”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“You’re sixteen,” the do-gooder repeated. “You’re a ward of the court. He can’t have sex with you, even if it was consensual. Even if you said it was okay. Did you really want to have sex with him?”
Of course , Elise thought. It got me extra time with you, bitch.
She shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
“No, it’s not.”
She frowned.
“Elise, my job is not only to evaluate you, but to help you. You have choices. You’re not just a sex toy. You can’t think of yourself like that. You’re a young woman, a smart young woman, who can choose to respect herself.”
“There’s nothing wrong with sex.”
“No, there isn’t—except when it’s a form of abuse.”
She frowned. Inside, she thought, Abuse? Really? What’s this woman smoking?
Elise had never allowed herself to be abused. Everything she did she did because either she wanted to, or it was part of the plan.
“Last week you told me about your mother.”
Elise’s mother was dead, so she’d made up a story. It was one she’d worked on for weeks with Mona Hill, the low-life bitch who ran out on her. But Mona was a master at cover stories and had helped falsify the documentation in case anyone went to verify. She’d been paid well for her services, but then she left. Left when Elise needed her. Her fists clenched in her lap. Elise hoped Tobias found her, gutted her, and left her in a ditch to be eaten alive by coyotes. Just rewards for that coward-bitch-whore.
The cover story was brilliant. Elise’s “mother” had been a prostitute. She’d been raised with men coming in and out of the apartment to screw her mother for money. It was “no big deal.” But her mom got arrested and the system put Elise in foster care.
“I don’t want to talk about her,” Elise said.
“You already did.”
“I don’t want to do it again.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s dead to me.”
“Is that because after she was released she didn’t get you out of foster care?”
That was the lie that Elise had implied—and the doc was smart enough to pick up on it. Score one for the doc. Or for Elise? It was her idea to be subtle. Tobias was too in-your-face, but Elise understood people. If she gave in too easily, Doc Oakley would be suspicious. So Elise had to let the doc pull every “fact” out of her.
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“It’s important.”
“Why?”
Her voice cracked. She deserved a fucking Academy Award.
“Because you are important, Elise.”
What the fuck did that mean?
“No one cares about me.” Quiet. Keep your voice quiet so she can’t hear the excitement.
“I care.”
Silence.
Staying quiet was always a good cue. Up the tension and whatever. Talking too much would only get her in trouble.
“I’m better off alone,” she whispered.
“But you’re not alone. You found someone else to be a parent. Your brother, Tobias.”
Tread carefully here , Elise, she warned herself. A little truth, a little lie.
“He’s not really your brother, is he?”
She shook her head. “Not by blood or anything,” she said.
“But?”
“He looks out for me.”
“But you’re scared of him.”
“No.”
Her voice quivered. Just a little.
“Elise, you’re safe here.”
“I’m not.”
“I promise, you are safe.”
“I just … I just want to make him happy.”
“But he’s never truly happy, is he?”
“Yes, he is!” Defiant.
“Last week, you told me that Tobias was in one of your foster care homes,
Learning to Kill: Stories