His first mistake was not staying away. His final mistake was denying her.

[This is a psychiatrist/patient story.]


1. Prologue

Haze wrapped around me as I stared at the woman at my feet, and the skin peeling back from the wound on her temple; blood pooled beneath herr. One of her arms was bent in an obscure way that told me it was broken, the other reaching for the smoking gun.

My face itched from where she'd cut me with her nails.

But she was dead.

Sirens wailed in this distance. As I walked outside to meet the police—and my fate—all I could think of was:

I didn't have a choice.

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