Chapter 3 - The Therapist's File
The rain drummed against the tinted glass of Dr. Aris’s office, a relentless, gray percussion that matched the heaviness in Daniel’s chest. He sat in the leather armchair, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white, staring at the woman sitting across from him. Dr. Aris was a woman of sharp angles and soft tones, her voice a soothing monotone that usually commanded attention, but today it only served to deepen Daniel’s dread.
She opened the manila folder on her desk, the sound of the plastic clips snapping shut echoing like a gunshot in the small room. She began to read, her eyes scanning the typed notes with clinical detachment.
"Mrs. Montgomery presented to us with severe symptoms of postpartum depression," Dr. Aris said, her gaze lifting briefly to meet Daniel’s. "The condition has been exacerbated by the recent estrangement from her support network. We documented episodes of severe self-isolation, anhedonia, and—most concerning—impulsive self-harm behaviors."
Daniel flinched. "Self-harm? Since when? She’s been fine. She’s been… fragile, sure, but she hasn’t hurt herself."
Dr. Aris adjusted her glasses, her expression shifting from professional to pitying. "Mr. Sterling, we are looking at a history that predates the baby. Her previous therapist noted a pattern of emotional volatility. The stress of becoming a mother seems to have unlocked a reservoir of trauma she’s been suppressing for years."
Daniel felt the floor tilt beneath him. He had come here to clear Margaret’s name, to find the truth about the bruises, but the doctor was painting a picture of a woman who was mentally unstable. The bruises—the black and blue welts on her arms and ribs—were suddenly looking less like signs of abuse and more like the desperate flailing of a manic patient. He began to doubt his own eyes. Had he misread the situation? Was Margaret the victim of a delusional daughter-in-law?
"It’s a chemical imbalance," Dr. Aris continued, flipping a page. "Claire is highly susceptible to suggestion. She’s very impressionable."
She slid the file toward him, but paused before he could take it. "There is one complication, however. Claire was adamant that she not discuss her relationship with her mother-in-law during these sessions. She requested Margaret be completely excluded from her care plan. It was… difficult to get her to open up."
"Margaret?" Daniel asked, his voice tight. "Margaret has been the one calling me, telling me Claire needs help."
Dr. Aris raised an eyebrow. "I see. And did she tell you about the restraining order she filed against Claire?"
"I… I haven't seen it," Daniel stammered.
"She claims Claire has been exhibiting violent tendencies toward her," the doctor said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Claire is terrified of her mother-in-law."
Daniel opened his mouth to argue, to defend Margaret, but Dr. Aris held up a hand. "Before you go, I want to show you something. Claire left this in the folder by mistake."
She pulled a small, crumpled sticky note from the back of the file and slid it across the desk. It was yellowed at the edges, the handwriting jagged and frantic. Daniel picked it up.
*Patient fears husband's mother – but also fears husband.*
The air left the room. The words were scrawled in Claire’s handwriting, but the sentiment was a knife to his gut. Fear. She was afraid of Margaret, yes, but she was also afraid of him. The man who was supposed to protect her.
"Does she know you have this?" Daniel asked, his voice shaking.
"I assume so," Dr. Aris said, turning her attention back to her computer screen. "Anyway, given the severity of the depression and the history of self-harm, I’ve been referring her to inpatient care. I called the intake team this morning to schedule her admission."
Daniel stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the carpet. He felt sick. He had been so busy fighting for Margaret that he hadn't looked at the reality in front of him. Claire was broken.
"I need to go," Daniel said, clutching the note in his pocket.
Suddenly, the landline on Dr. Aris’s desk rang. The shrill sound shattered the silence. Dr. Aris looked at the caller ID, her eyes widening in genuine alarm.
She picked up the receiver. "Dr. Aris speaking."
She listened, her face draining of all color. She didn't speak for ten long seconds, just staring at Daniel with a look of sheer horror.
"…Yes, I understand. She was brought in by ambulance. The police are on their way."
She hung up the phone slowly. The room felt colder, the air thick with a sudden, suffocating tension.
"She’s gone," Dr. Aris whispered. "Claire… she tried to kill herself."
Daniel’s heart hammered against his ribs. "Where? Is she alive?"
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"She’s in the ER at St. Jude’s," Dr. Aris said, her voice trembling. "But that’s not the worst of it. The police called me a moment ago. The medical report just came in. She didn't jump. She didn't overdose. She… she fought someone off."
Daniel froze. "What?"
