2.9k words

(Tw: There will be talk of blood, and suicide.)
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(y/n)'s POV
I slipped my ruby red blouse over my head, letting out a heavy sigh as I tugged it down to cover my stomach. "I can't believe you're going back there after what happened yesterday," Jackson said from the bed, his eyes fixed on me as I studied my reflection in the mirror, deciding to twist my hair into a bun.

"It's still my job, Jackson. I knew what I was getting into when I chose this career," I replied, securing my hair neatly and tightening the tie to keep it in place.

He groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow. "At least stay home with me today. I'm sure they'd understand if you said you needed a day to recover."

He had a point. Doctor Kenobi had already suggested I take a few days off after sending me home early yesterday. But honestly, I didn't feel any safer here than I would at work. The bruise on my eye, hidden beneath makeup, was proof enough. And the dark purple marks on my neck from Mace? No amount of makeup could cover those up. I looked like a complete wreck, if I was being honest.

I shook my head, letting out a sigh. "No, I was asked to come in today in exchange for leaving early yesterday," I lied, hoping he wouldn't dig deeper and figure that out. "I'll be fine, I promise." I leaned down to give him a quick kiss goodbye.

As I started to pull away, he caught my arm and pulled me back onto the bed beside him, a smile on his face. "Just be careful today, okay?" He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over the bruise he had caused, his eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm really sorry about this, baby. I love you, and I promise things will get better."

I nodded, forcing a smile. I had heard those words before. They were nothing but empty promises, "I know."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Just promise me you'll call if things get too overwhelming. I'll be here, waiting for you."

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"How are you today, Doctor (y/l/n)?" The guard at the entrance welcomed me with a gentle smile.

"I'm feeling much better today, thank you," I replied, nodding with assurance to show I was okay, even though a small part of me felt anxious about stepping through those doors. But that was understandable; I had been through something traumatic, and anyone in my shoes would feel the same, even those who had been in this situation for a long time.

The best way to heal from a traumatic experience is to confront it directly, facing it with courage. It's important to acknowledge what happened, stay calm, focus on your breathing if anxiety creeps in, and talk about it when necessary. I already planned to discuss it with Kenobi later today. However, it's crucial not to rush yourself; only take these steps when you feel ready. Pushing too hard could make things worse, leading to deeper feelings of depression and anxiety. Be easy on yourself.

I held my key card to the electronic lock, and the door clicked open. As I stepped inside, I noticed Doctor Kenobi in the lobby, engaged in conversation with two police officers.

When they saw me enter, all three turned to look my way. "(y/n)?" My boss seemed taken aback, "I didn't expect to see you today. You really didn't have to come in; I completely understand if you need some time."

I shook my head, trying to reassure myself with a smile. "I'm okay, really," I said, glancing at the officers who were staring at my bruised neck, their brows furrowed in concern. "What's happening?" I asked, just as a body bag was wheeled out of the elevator. My brows knitted together in confusion; I wondered who it could be.

They seemed to be taking a different path than the one I had just come through, likely heading to a back exit.

Kenobi stepped closer, nodding toward the body. "Mace Windu was found dead in his cell this morning."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "What? How did that happen?"

I wouldn't deny that a part of me felt a strange relief at the news, even if I knew it was wrong. That man had nearly taken my life, and now I felt a bit safer being here again.

He sighed, crossing his arms. "It appears to be a suicide. His wrists were cut, and the knife was still in his hand. The nurses discovered him in a pool of blood earlier today."

I stood there, mouth agape, completely stunned. Suicide seemed so out of character for someone like him. A man so confident wouldn't take his own life—unless he was battling demons I didn't know about. Our conversation was interrupted when one of the officers stepped closer, asking, "Excuse me, Miss, but what happened to your neck?"

"She's the person I mentioned," Kenobi replied on my behalf, "She was attacked by Mace yesterday."

The officer acknowledged him with a nod before shifting his focus back to me. "Where were you last night between ten and midnight?" he inquired.

"I was at home," I replied truthfully. That was indeed where I had been, with Jackson applying ice to my neck to ease the bruising.

"Can anyone confirm that?" he pressed, crossing his arms and looking down at me.

I narrowed my eyes and nodded. I didn't appreciate his tone, especially after the rough week I'd had. "Yes, my fiancé can," I said, my voice sharper than before. "And why do I feel like I'm being interrogated? I thought this was a suicide." I glanced around at the men, seeking an explanation.

"That's what it appears to be," the previously silent officer responded. "But it's quite unusual for someone to cut their wrists deep enough to reach the bone."

My boss, sitting beside me, let out a heavy sigh. "She didn't do anything wrong, and it was a suicide," he defended me, and I shot him a grateful look. "I've already told you, none of the patients here are what you'd call normal. They've experienced things that would haunt your dreams. Plus, we even have Anakin Skywalker here; I've learned that anything can happen in this place."

One of the officers' eyes widened at the mention of that name. "Did you say you have Anakin Skywalker here?"

I nodded, giving him a bitter glare, still annoyed by their earlier insinuations. "Yes, he's my patient."

"Can we see him?" he asked, his tone now filled with curiosity, and the other officer looked just as eager. "Just a quick look, we don't need to talk to him or anything, we just want to see the infamous scar."

I let out a scoff and rolled my eyes. "Absolutely not, my patient is not some exhibit for you to gawk at." I couldn't believe how they were talking about him, as if he were some kind of zoo animal. It stirred a deep anger within me; he was a human being, not a mere object to be paraded around.

Speaking of which, I really needed to see him for our session. I was already running late.

The two officers looked stunned by my sharp tone. I turned away from them, but not before giving each of them one last glare. They had managed to push all my buttons in just a few minutes. "Doctor Kenobi, could you please have the guards take Anakin to the room? I'll be waiting for him."

He nodded, "Of course, I'll inform them as soon as I finish here. But are you sure you're alright?" His eyes flicked to my neck, then softened with concern.

I offered a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine. I'll catch up with you later for our usual meeting." Without another word to the officers, I pivoted and headed to my office to gather the things I needed for the session.

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I sat in the room, waiting for Anakin, my eyes drifting over the notes I had taken yesterday. I read them slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as memories of the terrible events just a few doors away flooded my mind. In a moment of anger, I tore out the page about Mace and tossed it into the wastebasket beside me.

Not that I'll need it anymore.

I flipped to a fresh page, writing today's date at the top. Just as I looked up, I was startled by a pair of blue eyes staring back at me. My hand flew to my chest, trying to steady my racing heart.

Anakin chuckled, clearly amused by my surprise. "Someone's a bit jumpy today."

"When did you even get here?" I asked, glancing at the small window in the door where the guards were chatting, as usual. I had been so lost in thought about Mace that I hadn't noticed anyone enter.

"About five minutes ago," he replied with a casual shrug, leaning back with a grin. "I was going to say something, but you looked so adorable in your own world that I didn't want to disturb you. Also, you really should stop chewing on your pen; you might break a tooth." He nodded toward the pen in my hand, which bore the marks of my nervous habit.

I sighed and set it down on the table, realizing I hadn't even noticed I was doing that. "I tend to nibble when I'm anxious," I confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Is that so?" His smile twisted into a mischievous grin, and I could sense the direction his playful thoughts were taking. "If you're interested, I could offer you something to nibble on, sweetheart."

A light chuckle escaped me, and it felt refreshing to genuinely laugh after everything I had faced recently, both yesterday and today.

Anakin seemed delighted by my cheerful response, as if it was the reaction he had been hoping for. "Don't you think that might hurt Skywalker?" I asked, tilting my head with a teasing tone.

He let out a laugh of his own, "Well, I was imagining you biting my neck or even my lips. But I like where your thoughts are heading; you can do that too, I don't mind a little pain." He winked and leaned closer over the table, his eyes roaming my face before settling on my neck for a moment, then drifting lower to my slightly revealed cleavage.

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his boldness; this joke was going further than I intended. "Alright, I think it's time we—" I was about to suggest we start the actual session instead of this playful banter when something else caught my eye, making me pause. I turned to the window and spotted a few familiar faces trying to peek in. "You have got to be kidding me," I muttered, rising from the table.

I pulled out the sticky notes from my pocket and marched toward the window, glaring down at the officers outside. Someone must have tipped them off about our location—maybe a guard looking for a quick buck or even another doctor. I would have to figure that out and give whoever it was a piece of my mind later.

I peeled the sticky notes apart and stuck several on the window to block their view completely. "I'll be fine, Rex!" I shouted to the guard, who usually escorted Anakin and kept an eye on me. But honestly, I didn't feel threatened in this room.

With a groan, I walked back to the table, where Anakin was watching me with a curious look. "What was that all about?"

I sank into my chair with a sigh, slamming the sticky notes down beside me. "It's the officers who came to look into another patient's death. They wanted to see you like you were some kind of zoo animal, and I told them to get lost." My tone was unprofessional, but I didn't care. I was already fed up with the day, and it was still morning.

Anakin nodded slowly, humming in response. "Oh, I heard about Mace," he said, a strange smile crossing his face. "How tragic."

"Yeah," I leaned back, exhaling deeply. "But it feels a bit off to me."

He tilted his head, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

I began tapping my pen on the paper, a habit I had when I was deep in thought. "Well, when I talked to him yesterday, he seemed almost full of himself and enjoyed the thrill of murder. Someone like that wouldn't take their own life; they care too much about themselves or their next fix." I shrugged, sharing my theory that it might not have been suicide, though I could be wrong, "Think of it as an addiction. Do you really think some crack head down the street is going to kill themselves knowing their next fix might be just around the corner? No, they want that thrill above all else."

He let out a soft laugh as he stared down at the table. "You're really clever," he said, lifting his gaze to meet mine, though his head remained lowered. "What do you think happened?"

I shrugged, letting out a deep sigh. "I honestly don't know. It could be suicide or murder; anyone here could be involved." I started to draw little hearts on the paper meant for my psychiatric notes.

"How's your neck feeling?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

"Better," I replied, looking up at him with a smile. "The pain is gone; it just looks worse than it really is." I tilted my neck and traced the purple marks with my fingers.

"I saw it happen," he confessed, his fingers drumming rapidly on the table. "I happened to glance through the door's window while they were leading me past. I was the one who told those clueless guards to pay attention, but it took them way too long to react." His drumming grew louder, and his eyes darkened with genuine anger.

I blinked, taken aback by his words; I owed him my life. "Thank you."

He nodded, then paused his tapping, beckoning me closer with a flick of his finger. "Come here, I have something to share with you."

I frowned, "Why can't you just-"

"You never know who might be listening," he interrupted, still motioning for me to approach. I hesitated for a moment, then he added, "You should trust me by now. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it already." He rested his hands on the table, waiting patiently for me to comply.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I finally stood up, walking around the table toward him. "Okay, what is it?" I asked as I drew near. I glanced at the window, where the paper barrier kept anyone outside from seeing us.

He chuckled softly, waving his hand down. "Come closer, sweetheart. I want to whisper something in your ear," he said. I slowly leaned in, and he urged, "Closer." I felt his chilly breath for the first time, and though my mind screamed for me to pull away, my body seemed enchanted, unable to resist his request. Finally, I felt his lips brush against my ear as he whispered, "You smell like lavender."

I quickly stepped back and caught his eye. He wore a smile that seemed so innocent. "Anakin," I sighed, realizing I had foolishly thought he might actually share something meaningful with me. I wasn't sure what he could say, considering the subject at hand, but it was clear he just wanted to take the chance to flirt a bit. "No more games, let's focus on the session before we run out of time."

"Sorry," he said, his gaze sweeping over me as I returned to my seat. "I couldn't help it; you look lovely in red."

"Thanks," I replied, avoiding his eyes as I opened my notebook again. "Now—"

"What did you think I was going to say?" he interrupted.

I glanced up and shrugged. "I don't know, maybe you had some insight about what happened to Windu."

He tilted his head, a small smile hinting that he might know more than he let on. "How could I possibly know anything?" His tone was almost teasing, making me drop my pen again.

I pondered for a moment, tapping my finger on the table while his eyes tracked my movements. "Something tells me not much goes on here without you being aware of it."

He leaned in, resting his hands on the table, the chains clinking softly. "Let's get back to the session, Doc. You're right; we wouldn't want to waste any time."

He knows something, I can feel it.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter💕

For my re-readers, the ending in this chapter is different! I originally had Anakin expose that he killed Windu but I decided to change it cause it just didn't seem right to me. Anyways maybe Anakin did it in this version and maybe he didn't, either way he does know something.
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