The Fixer by T. E. Woods Read Free Book Online Page B

visit you already trusted me.” Lydia let a few more moments pass in silence. “Does that still hold?” Voice steady and non-judgmental.
    Savannah whispered. “It does. Thanks for seeing me. I know it’s late.”
    “Then let’s make this time productive.” Lydia needed to press. Keep her patient focused. “I believe you were worried about something in you being broken. Am I right?”
    Savannah was silent for several long moments. “I hurt people, Dr. Corriger. It didn’t used to bother me. Now it does.” Savannah reached for another tissue and held it in her clenched right hand.
    “How do you hurt people?” Keep the probing neutral and focused. Use the patient’s own words. Build intimacy by creating the illusion they’re talking to themselves.
    Savannah blinked a tear away and stared into middle space. “Do the details matter?”
    “I think they do. There’s lots of ways we can hurt people,” Lydia said. “Intentional or accidental. Emotional. Physical. Sexual. Financial. Consistently or at random.” She watched her patient. “What ways do you think you hurt people, Savannah?”
    The beautiful woman continued her numb gaze into nothingness. “I’ve hurt people every way you can conceive. Let’s leave it at that.”
    Lydia recognized self-loathing. Normalizing was the next step, but she needed specifics. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
    Savannah kept her eyes away from Lydia. “What’s the worst thing you can imagine? Think of that. Assume I’ve done it.”
    Time for the challenge. Offer an absurd option. Lead the patient to realize their sins aren’t anywhere near as corrupt as they assume. “I’d say killing someone is as bad as it gets. Raping someone. Torturing someone.”
    Savannah’s eyes were a blue Alaskan glacier; cold and unyielding. “Come on, Dr. Corriger. With what you know about me you can do better than that.” She tossed her tissue into the wastebasket a few feet away.
    Lydia wondered what Savannah fantasized she knew. “Let’s switch gears. Maybe something less heated. What have you been up to since our last appointment? Seven weeks is a long time.”
    Savannah focused her attention on the seam of her trousers. She traced its line with her fingernail. “I’ve been out of town.”
    “Work or pleasure?”
    Savannah slowly brought her head up. “I thought we were headed for less heated waters, Dr. Corriger.” When Lydia didn’t respond Savannah’s face softened. “I’m sorry. That sounded confrontational.”
    “I’m not sure confrontational is the word. Maybe defensive,” Lydia said. “Tell me why such a routine question scares you.”
    “It’s not that the question scares me. I’m not used to talking about myself.”
    “You said at our last meeting you’d tell me lies but everything would be true. Are you wondering whether to be honest with me? Wondering if I’ve earned your confidence enough to be trusted with a minor detail like where you’ve been?”
    Savannah smiled. “You remembered that? You’re really good.”
    “Good enough to know you’re dodging the question. Let’s try again. What took you travelling for seven weeks?”
    Savannah’s smile disappeared. Lydia could almost hear the decision process her beautiful and terrified patient was calculating. “Business,” she finally answered. “You could say it was a business trip.”
    “Ah. Where did you go?”
    A shorter hesitation this time. “Out of the country. Someplace warm. I needed a break.”
    Lydia decided not to press for destination details. “What is it you do for a living? I don’t believe you ever mentioned it.”
    Savannah concentrated on the tissue she was shredding. “It’s hard to explain.”
    “Try me.” Vague encouragement. No pressure. Keep the patient undefended and talking.
    “You could call me a freelancer and be accurate enough.” Savannah gathered the shreds of paper and wadded them into a ball. She glanced to the wastebasket, leaned back,