Chapter 8 Chapter Eight Now

the phone is ringing.The screeching, restless ringing of the bell broke the tense atmosphere in the office, like a chainsaw cutting butter.Dr. Peterson stared at the phone.The rambunctious machine is sleek, black, and old-fashioned.But it's not an antique, it's just old-fashioned. I raised an eyebrow at him.Does he not answer the phone? He sighed and cast an annoyed glance at the door.Or, in fact, she glared at the secretary through the door, who dared to interrupt our meeting. I'm not angry, but grateful.I was temporarily saved, and this was a chance to take a breather and refocus my mind.

With two dramatic clicks, Peterson picked up the sleek phone and lifted the copper-rimmed receiver to his lips. "What's up?" I couldn't hear the other person's answer. Peterson opened his eyes wide, then narrowed them again. "I'm seeing a patient, Helen." Of course Helen knew, she was the one who let me in.I figured her business must be important, maybe important enough to cancel the rest of the "treatment".I was so looking forward to it that I made the cross with my good hand. Even if it wasn't canceled, the call came at the right time.It eats up a few minutes before I leave.Because no matter how long we were interrupted, Peterson would send me off on time.Nothing can disrupt his strict schedule.

He sighed again.I stopped looking at the bookshelf, which contained the books with their spines intact, and continued to stare at Peterson.He was frowning at me now. "I can't talk right now. I'll call him back." He paused.I could picture Helen babbling endlessly on the line, "I know." Wow, he speaks in a foul voice.Peterson then took a deep breath, trying to control his anger.I smiled at him. That was just a smirk.I was actually very upset.I've done so many things, and how can that uninteresting Helen irritate him all at once.I have done many things just to make him an enemy of me, but he always faces me with a calm face.God, I was even going to stab him!

"Tell him... tell him to call him when I'm done with my next patient...yes, one o'clock." He hung up the phone, frowning at me. "I'm sorry, Heather." no no.I don't think it's a good thing to be sorry.I assumed a defensive stance again.Put up high walls, raise your guard, and prick up your ears.But I just do it in my mind.From the looks of it, I was still curled up in my chair, eyelids drooping, bored to sleep, feet brushing against the rug.With a sigh of relief, I made sure he knew I was bored and degraded sitting here. "Tell me about Ishizuka," he asked when it became clear that I wouldn't accept his apology.

I do not want it. I pursed my lips tightly and stared at him without blinking.Being silent is what I do best; I've been doing that to my mother since I was six years old.I can go on for a long time and easily outlast this treatment. "Would you like to talk today?" I could hear him slightly emphasizing the word "today" and I knew we were going to revisit something I had said before.At that time, I also tried to talk to him and explain to him.At that time, I thought he was here to help me, and I still believed him as a bastard. "Do you remember telling me about the cemetery, Heather? Do you remember you saying that you took one thing from the cairn, the Artifact?"

That's not my exact words, no, but I'm sure he'll say them exactly. He rummaged in the desk drawer and found a large folder with papers about to pop out of it.is my old file.Mad Heather's backup material.He spread the folder on the table and began to flip through the pages.I can't see what's written on it.But I can see lines of thin lines of writing.It's Dr. Peterson's word.It's all about me.I don't want to watch it, but I really want to know what kind of ridiculous conclusions this person has drawn about my "delusional" mental state. "Ah, I found it. You said it lived in the ghost of an ancient druid. It was sent back to wreak havoc and revenge. Do you remember what you said?"

I stared at him intently.It was just a subtle, tiniest hint that I knew he was laughing at me.His subtext was saying, "Do you remember when you were out of your mind, Heather? Was it when the bell rang and you were like that?" No, Dr. Peterson, I can't say I remember saying that to you.But I remember my arm being pulled back so hard I thought my shoulder was going to dislocate.I also remember someone putting a needle in my arm.I remember waking up with a splitting headache and surrounded by a horrible sense of helplessness.I was chained, pinned down, and filled with fear.It's not this room that I'm afraid of, it's something I can never get rid of.

He waited, hoping that I would suddenly and miraculously confess to him.I'm sorry, Dr. Peterson.There are no miracles today.He saw it in my eyes. He started to find another way. "Member of the ancient Druids, Heather." At this point, he paused, "Supernatural. You are very interested in this, right? Are you even obsessed?" I shook my head contemptuously, which Peterson mistook for denial. "Didn't you?" He raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised, "didn't you? I've been to your house, Heather. Some of your books are very... unusual for a girl your age. ’ He started flipping through the records again. "Ah, here, The Scythe and the Mistletoe: Unraveling the Druids. It's not casual reading. There's also Blood Dust: A Dark Ritual of Human Sacrifice. Why are you reading these books, Heather? If If you don't like these mysterious black magic, why are you interested in those things?"

I gritted my teeth and looked at him blankly.I don't like him coming to my house, into my room.He probably had tea and cake with my mother, shaking her hand sympathetically and assuring her that I was really mad. Those books have nothing to worry me about.They are Dodge's, not mine.At that time, I applied for the archeology major in college, and he lent me the books, and there were many other books besides these two.They are all primers, so that I can get a general idea.However, I never heard Peterson mention that I still have "Introduction to Archeology" and "History of the British Isles" on my bookshelf.Because they do not fit his established vision.

And his established assumption was that I was crazy. "Okay." After a while, he finally gave up and stuffed the folder back on the desk. "Okay, let's try something else." What are you talking about?Electroshock therapy? No, it's worse than that. "Tell me about your friends. Tell me about Martin. In your first statement to the judge, you said he disappeared—" "He did disappear." I squeezed the words through my teeth. I will never be silent on this topic.I didn't even care that Peterson was there secretly, celebrating that he had finally pried my mouth open.I will never allow them to accuse me of doing that, I don't even want to think about it.

Because I haven't done it, I—didn't—have.