Chapter 3

Daisy

Dr Lewis was more helpful than I’d anticipated. It had been five weeks since I’d been seeing him, and the new trial medication for Psilocybin mushrooms was something that was helping me. I never liked the usual drugs my doctor prescribed me, and I wouldn't have taken these, but Dr Lewis has assured me that they were natural.

He knew I didn't like being in his office. So we would meet in various coffee shops around the city. The atmosphere was much more relaxed, and I got free hot chocolate, which was a bonus. I wasn't drinking as much alcohol, and my usual spiralling thoughts had lessened.

He advised me to hold off on looking for a job until we could work on my treatment. He also wrote to the Department of Work and Pensions to ensure my disability claim wouldn't be rejected. Other than Dr Cavall, he seemed to care about my personal circumstances.

My phone vibrated, and I picked it up.

Dr Lewis: My video appointment ran longer than expected. Can you meet me at my house?

I frowned at his message because it felt a little strange going to his house. He hadn't given me any creepy vibes and always kept our appointments professional, regardless of the setting.

Me: Sure, send me the address.

◆◆◆

I paused at the white five-storey townhouse. It was in an affluent area, which didn't surprise me, but the sheer size of his property did. I peered down at the basement level, where there was a small decked area, but the windows were all barred up. Robberies were common in the city, and these type of windows weren't uncommon.

I climbed up the steps and rang the doorbell. When Dr Lewis opened the door, he was wearing a white shirt and navy trousers. It was strange to see him without his full suit. He smiled politely and moved back to let me inside.

“Thank you for coming. I didn't anticipate getting caught up in that meeting,” he said.

His house was as grand as his office and worth several million, given its size and location.

“That’s okay. There was a direct bus from my area to yours,” I said, glancing at the artwork in the open hallway.

The canvas was red and black, and I did a double-take as within the strokes of the paintwork, it looked like a horned face hidden within the pattern.

“Let’s go into the kitchen. I could use a coffee. Would you like a hot chocolate?”

“Uh, yes, please,” I said, following him through the hallway.

I was taken aback when we reached the kitchen because it wasn't sleek and modern but more homely.

“Take a seat,” he said as he waved a hand towards the kitchen table.

“You have a beautiful house,” I murmured as I pulled the wooden chair back to take a seat.

“Thank you. So, how has your week been?” he asked.

“The mushroom pills that I have been popping have made a difference. I've felt much more relaxed,” I said as I watched him move around to gather everything up.

“Good, but you realise that at some point, we need to delve a little deeper to help you develop better coping mechanisms. Alcohol isn't the answer.”

I touched the cream wooden table. Everything had a look and feel of quality. I wanted to avoid this conversation because every therapist had the same goal. To pick at my brain and bring those horrid memories back. It made me stabby just thinking about it. I glanced at his wooden knife block and felt a pang of sadness at the missed opportunities to stab my tormentors.

Before I knew it, Dr Lewis had placed the mug of hot chocolate in front of me. It had whipped cream and chocolate drops on it, and I knew before tasting it that it was Belgian chocolate.

He turned to get his coffee before he sat down. When he took a sip, he stared at me with a strange expression. I wondered if his meeting had been bad news.

“Do you live with your family?” I asked politely as I took a sip of the hot chocolate.

The cream covered my upper lip, and I licked it off. His eyes followed my tongue before he looked away.

“My parents live in the south of France, and I’m an only child,” he said before he took another sip of his coffee.

“Oh, I meant if you had a partner or children,” I said, since the house was massive, but I kept that to myself.

This was the best hot chocolate I’d ever had. It was just the right temperature since he knew I liked my hot drinks lukewarm. I took another long sip of the comforting, sweet drink.

“No, I live here alone,” he said with a smile. “How much did you drink this week?”

“I had one bottle of wine and no spirits,” I said carefully. It was really three bottles, but it was better than drinking straight vodka and rum.

“Tell me about your first boyfriend or girlfriend?”

I blinked at his question and swallowed. He usually limited his questions to my present and future goals.

“I’ve had one boyfriend, and it didn't work out. I’m happier on my own,” I said tightly. “My first female friend stabbed me in the back.”

“Hmm, most people are selfish cunts,” he said with a nod while my mouth fell open at his profanity.

I began to feel tired all of a sudden.

“Why don't you tell me about Tom and Violet?” he asked with a sinister smile.

That was when the full-blown panic burst through me. I looked at the hot chocolate, and it began to blur. The hot chocolate was drugged.

This is what I deserved for trusting someone again.