Page 27 of Unfettered

“Speaking of being a people pleaser… Should we talk about Rose?” Anderson asks gently.

My shoulders slump and I desperately fight the desire to hide, to run, but instead, I breathe through the anxiety. Thankfully, Anderson doesn’t rush me. It takes several moments before I have myself under control, but when I do, I roll my neck and straighten up.

“Good job,” Anderson murmurs. “You’re right. You’re getting better at controlling it.”

“Thank you.” I let the praise flow through me before we tackle the painful subject. Eventually, I give in, though. That’s what he’s here for, after all.

“I don’t know what to think about Rose,” I say honestly. “It feels like I killed her myself with my selfish actions. And worse, I put Doc in a position where he had to handle it, to lose his friend. I’m not sure how he doesn’t hate me. Unless…maybe he does?”

“That’s quite a list to go through. Let’s break it down.” I nod, waiting for Anderson to help me make sense of things. “What would you say if I told you this wasn’t Rose’s first infraction?”

“I mean…that still doesn’t mean she should have died because of what I did.”

“You have a great capacity for forgiveness. But you need to remember, not everyone deserves the benefit of your friendship. Put yourself in Rose’s position. Not only is it your job to care for patients, but you’ve been entrusted with someone who is dear to multiple people in the family. Would you walk away?”

“No. Never,” I retort confidently. “Even Benjamin, when we were arguing, wouldn’t have done that.”

“So you have a situation where this was not her first issue, and it was a severe infraction, despite the warning she was given previously.”

I scrub at my face, frustration rolling off me. I know he has a point, but fuck. I still hate it. Blowing out a breath, I finally break.

“It reminds me of my brother,” I say stiffly, barely holding onto my composure. “I made excuses for him, wanting to believe he cared about me, even when he gave me to Master as a Toy. It didn’t occur to me that he was in the wrong until I found out he killed our mom. He fully intended for Master to kill me. Fuck, he probably knew Peter was obsessed with me.”

“I don’t know your entire history, but that all sounds really painful. It also sounds like, for you, the limit on your forgiveness is when they hurt someone you love. And that’s problematic, because not everyone is good. If it was someone you loved in the hospital bed and she left them alone, knowing they were high risk… how would you have reacted?”

“I would have killed her myself,” I snarl, my hands clenching into fists.

Anderson sits back, crossing his legs as he rests his hands on his lap. “Then tell me… Why do you think you deserve less?”

For a moment, there’s only blankness. My mind simply…stops. There’s barely any air in my lungs. Nothing. Then suddenly, it’s like an inferno catches me. I’m not even sure what sparks it, where the ember began, but suddenly everything is ablaze and I want to run to put it out. The thoughts are chaotic, tumbling into each other, a swirl of confusion. Fuck.

I shake my head, struggling to focus. I slow my breathing, noting when I begin to pant, and work on relaxing each tightened muscle. It’s only when I’m studying my hands, trying to loosen them, that I find words again.

“I’m not sure,” I whisper, and suddenly I’m caught by a wave of exhaustion. Because I don’t know.

It’s an overwhelming feeling, a pit in my stomach and a headache pounding from not understanding something so key to myself. Anderson hums quietly, waiting in case I’m not finished, but there’s nothing left to give.

I. Don’t. Know.

“Then that gives us a plan to start.” Anderson nods. “Now, to continue the list⁠—”

Weakly, I interrupt, “Do we have to?”

He raises an eyebrow, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s a switch like Antonio, because damn. Straightening, I zero in on him, ready for whatever he throws at me. Maybe.

“Doc could have chosen to have someone else handle Rose. You cannot control the actions of others. Rose is the one who put him in that position, not you. And as for if he’s angry with you or not, think back to your encounters. Did he ever seem that way, or are you projecting?”

Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair, noting that it’s time to get a haircut. “I… He’s always been kind to me. Well, within his own slightly gruff style. You’re right. I’m projecting.”

“You can always talk to him directly.” I flinch at the idea, shaking my head. “We’ll work up to that. But I do want to address one last thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask cautiously.

“You are not selfish. What you did happened in desperation. We all have a breaking point. Please, try to give yourself grace.”

I shrug, but otherwise don’t say anything. I’m not sure I can get there, but if I do, it won’t be today. Yawning, I can feel the drug still pulling at me. Not to mention, therapy is fucking exhausting.

“Alright. We can leave it there. As soon as you get some rest, if you’re up for it, you may leave the medical wing.”