The nurse pushes me through the halls of the institute, which I know only too well. For just over six months as a resident at GoldenBay House, I've been used to this routine "to help me recover". In addition to the treatment that confuses my mind, I have to have these interviews once a week with Dr. Graham. I like him, he's nice, but he won't be able to help me. Why? Because he doesn't know the real reason I'm here. Neither does Dr. Gallagher.

When I learned that my leg could not be saved, I blamed the whole world. I cut ties with my two best friends, Kat and Lily. I even forbade my parents to visit me. I didn't want anyone to see me like this. Only my brother, Steve, a true hothead, convinced me to let him be by my side. For him, I didn't have to be alone. I was totally devastated. Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?

We approached Dr. Graham's office. I had agreed to individual sessions and categorically refused group therapies. I didn't need it. I have to say that this doctor was a good listener and trusted person. I liked talking to him, to the extent of what I wanted to reveal to him.

The door opens and the charming doctor gives me a beautiful smile by inviting me in. He is tall, with brown hair in battle, gorgeous green eyes and a smiling face. His white blouse reveals a well-worked musculature. I must admit that these face-to-face sessions were not to displease me. Until recently, I...

He sits in front of me in his chair. On the small table next to him, he grabs my file and opens it to review the notes he had taken during our last interview.

"So, Stella, how are you feeling today?" he asks me, his hoarse voice filling the big room.

"Well," I says, with my hands crossed on my knees. "My week went pretty well. There was no stocking."

- I see that you are becoming more and more involved with others, he remarks with a slight smile. This is a good step forward.

"I've been involved in a few workshops", I correct him. "From that to say that I mingle with others..."

"Don't diminish the efforts you make," he says, frowning. "Participating in these workshops is a big step in itself, even if you don't go there often. Just the fact that you want to be part of it is important. I also noticed that you were close to Mr. Bennett...

At that moment, I cannot repress a smile. I remember our marine escape of that night and our kiss. However, at breakfast, I found his attitude very different. Almost distant. And all those questions he asked me...

"I don't know the exact nature of your relationship, but he only wants the best for you," he says. I've never seen that with another patient.

"How can you be sure of that?" I ask him. "How can you guess people's intentions, whether they are good or bad?"

- Speaking with them generally. I am a psychologist, Ms. Atkins. It's kind of my job to assess the mentality and mindset of patients. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Mr. Bennett wants to hurt you, he answers in a puzzled way, folding his right eye.

"Do you know what he has done in the past?" I ask him.

"I am not at liberty to discuss Mr. Bennett's case with you," he tells me.

"But I'm not interested in his past at all. Mr. Fiennes-Tiffin's, on the other hand..."

My interlocutor widens his eyes, while standing up in his chair. He closes my file and puts it on the table next to him and tries to use a neutral expression.

"He told me so on his own", I throw it, before he asks me." I know he wasn't supposed to reveal his identity to anyone here. Everything I say stays between us, doesn't it? The patient's privacy lock, right?"

He nods his head.

"Do you think a good deed can erase a bad one?" I ask him.

- I don't think we can be defined by what we do. You can make bad decisions without necessarily being bad. It's all about intent. It is a combination of circumstances that sometimes leads us to make choices that are in complete contradiction with who we are within.

"Hero revealed to me that he had caused a rather serious accident in the past... and he regrets it. But... I don't know..."

Dr. Graham is staring at me, not knowing what I'm getting at.

"What I mean is... I can relate to this poor girl he hit. I... I've been through something similar, so...."

"You never told me the cause of your injury," he says.

It's my turn to open my eyes. I've always refused to answer that question.

- It doesn't matter how. It doesn't change the outcome, I quibble.

"I do not understand where you are going with this, Miss Atkins," he says, baffled.

"I'm going to ask you one last question and I want you to answer it honestly: do you think Hero Fiennes-Tiffin has become a good person?"

Graham steps back into his seat, gauging me. He remains silent for a few seconds, without stopping staring at me.

- Why do I feel my answer will have a big impact on future events?

I'm shaking my head.

- Just answer, Doc.

- People can make mistakes, he begins, without knowing how to manage them afterwards. I think, from what little I know about this case, that he may be trying to redeem himself through you, something he couldn't have done with the victim of the accident. For me, he is a good person and I do not think it has been otherwise before. I saw the way he cared for Freddie and you, and a bad person wouldn't take the time to care about other people's well-being. And when he is with you, in particular, it goes far beyond a simple concern for well-being...

I am distressed by his answer. I decide to shorten our meeting to return to my room, claiming that I am not feeling well. Once I'm alone, I pick up the handset from my phone and dial a number.

A ringer is ringing...

The second bell...

Third bell...

I end up on the answering machine. After the long message of announcement that makes me look up to heaven, the beep is heard, giving me the signal to speak:

"Steve, it's me... I'm calling to let you know that I want to leave GoldenBay House...

******