Page 51 of The Marriage

The woman was still smiling at Karine when the door did open.

When they stepped out into the hallway together, she made a run for it.

*

“Why did you do it, Karine?”

Sylvia tapped a pen on her notepad as she sat on a big white couch across from her.

Karine had been given a gray chaise lounge to sit on. With her legs tucked in under her and her hands wedged between her thighs, she asked, “Why did I do what?”

“Try to run away?” Sylvia’s patience now was one of a saint, even though she’d screeched like a little girl when Karine ran.

She couldn’t remember laughing so hard.

Too bad the humor was long gone.

“I don’t know the answer to your question. Frankly, I don’t know the answers to most of your questions.”

Sylvia made a note, and Karine tried to ignore her rising frustration. Between the conversation, she had to carry outwardly, and the one she refused to have internally ... focus was tough, and anger was easier.

The voice she had become so profoundly aware of recently—the one who called herself Katina—floated on the surface of her consciousness almost constantly. It was Karine’s strong-willed desire to keep her alter subdued that forced Katina back, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

Katina’s sharp hiss told her that she didn’t need to answer any of these questions. A reminder that she didn’t actually need, but that didn’t stop her from saying it and more. You did right by running, she heard Katina muttering. Apparently, the next time she was serious about escaping—well, she should have a plan in place and be prepared to take extreme measures if she wanted better results.

Karine forced the lump down forming her throat. She hated hearing Katina’s voice in her head, and without the drugs she used to take to fade that voice, it was growing louder and louder. The only thing about fading the voice was Karine also inhibited her own control.

There was no way to win.

“Why don’t we take it one question at a time?” Sylvia asked, lifting her shoulders under the white silk blouse she wore. Her pencil skirt was so tight that Karine wondered if that was why she’d taken a second to dart after her earlier. Or was it because of her teetering four-inch stiletto heels? She really hadn’t expected Karine to run.

She almost felt bad.

Almost.

“You can think about your answers, and I want you to know there are no wrong ones,” the woman continued. “You can even just tell me the first thing that pops in your head.”

“What is the question?” Karine snapped.

Soaked in anger, her words made Sylvia wince. Her tone was charged by Katina’s voice, and she closed her eyes.

Stop it, she said silently.

“It’s okay, Karine, you don’t have to suppress anything. It’s okay if someone else wants to come out and speak to me,” Sylvia insisted.

Was it really?

Karine’s nostrils flared.

Sylvia had no idea what she was asking for. She wouldn’t want to meet Katina—no one did. Katina didn’t introduce herself to the world because she wanted to make friends. She came along to burn everything down.

When she opened her eyes, Sylvia was still staring at her, searching her eyes for proof of a switch.

“Is it still you, Karine?”

“Are you still alive?” she asked back in a murmur.

Sylvia’s brow dipped. “I beg your pardon?”