Chapter 3 - THE ARCHITECT OF REVENGEThe drive to Dr. Sterling’s office was a masterclass in psychological warfare.
Daniel kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on mine,
squeezing it occasionally as if to offer reassurance.
In reality,
it was a restraint.
He spent the entire trip talking about how much better I would feel once I was in a "restful environment."
"The clinic is world-class,
Eleanor,"
he said,
glancing at me with a fake smile.
"Rachel and I visited it last week."
"The gardens are beautiful."
"You'll have plenty of time to paint and think."
I stared out the window,
watching the trees blur into a green haze.
"Will you visit me?"
I asked,
my voice trembling with a well-rehearsed fear.
"Every day,"
he promised.
The lie was so effortless it made me sick.
I knew the moment the doors locked behind me,
he would be at the bank,
emptying my accounts and signing the papers to sell the house.
When we arrived at the clinic,
Rachel was already there,
waiting in the lobby.
She looked polished and professional,
the perfect image of a concerned sister-in-law.
She rushed over to hug me,
and I could smell her expensive perfume,
a scent that now reminded me of a funeral.
"Oh,
Eleanor,"
she whispered into my ear.
"We’re doing this because we love you."
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to claw her eyes out.
Instead,
I leaned into her,
letting my body go limp.
"I know,"
I murmured.
"I’m so lucky to have you both."
We were ushered into Dr. Sterling’s office.
The room was filled with the smell of old paper and sterilized air.
Dr. Sterling was a man with grey hair and a neutral expression that didn't reach his eyes.
He didn't look at me as a patient;
he looked at me as a transaction.
"So,"
Sterling began,
opening a thick folder.
"Daniel tells me the hallucinations have become more frequent."
"And the episodes of paranoia?"
I looked at Daniel,
who nodded solemnly.
"She thinks people are breaking into the house,"
Daniel said,
his voice thick with fake grief.
"She even hid her legal documents because she thought I was trying to steal them."
Rachel chimed in,
"She’s not herself,
Doctor."
"She needs professional help before she hurts herself."
I sat there,
listening to them weave a narrative of my insanity.
It was brilliant,
really.
They had taken every suspicion I had voiced and turned it into a symptom of a mental breakdown.
"Eleanor,"
Dr. Sterling said,
finally looking at me.
"Do you agree that you haven't been feeling like yourself lately?"
I took a deep breath,
looking down at my hands.
"I...
I have been very confused,"
I admitted.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a dream."
"Exactly,"
Daniel said,
leaning forward.
"That’s why we should sign the voluntary admission papers now."
"It’s better than waiting for a court order."
He pulled a pen from his pocket and placed the papers on the desk in front of me.
My heart was hammering against my ribs.
This was the moment.
If I signed,
I was giving them everything.
If I didn't,
they would use force.
I picked up the pen,
my hand shaking violently.
"I just want to be better,"
I sobbed,
letting real tears fall onto the paper.
I began to write my name,
but as I did,
I intentionally knocked the heavy glass paperweight off the desk.
It shattered on the floor with a deafening crash.
"Oh!
I’m so sorry!"
I cried,
dropping the pen and clutching my head.
"I’m so clumsy!"
In the confusion of them leaning down to pick up the glass,
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small digital recorder I had swiped from Daniel's office weeks ago.
I slipped it under the cushion of the chair I was sitting in.
I needed one more piece of evidence.
I needed them to admit the truth while the recorder was running.
"It’s okay,
honey,"
Daniel said,
his voice snapping with a hint of irritation.
"Just sign the paper."
"Wait,"
I said,
looking at the document.
"This says I'm transferring power of attorney to you immediately."
"Is that necessary for the treatment?"
Daniel's mask slipped for a fraction of a second.
"It's to handle the insurance,
Eleanor."
"Don't be difficult."
I looked at Rachel.
"And the house?
Are you going to sell the house while I'm away?"
Rachel laughed,
a sharp,
nervous sound.
"Why would we do that?"
"We just want you to get well."
"Sign it,
Eleanor,"
Daniel commanded,
May you like
his voice losing its warmth.
"Now."
