The Society Series: Books 3 - 4 (The Society series Boxset Book 2) by Ivy Fox

Author:Ivy Fox [Fox , Ivy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: X-Factory
Published: 2022-09-08T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Kennedy

“Grab your things. We’re leaving,” my father shouts, rushing out of Dr. Trott’s office.

“Why? We’ve just gotten here,” Jeff complains, slumping back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest in protest.

“I said move!” my father repeats more forcefully, looking positively possessed.

I grab Jeff’s hand and pull him out of the chair, knowing that when our father gets this way, it’s better just to shut up and do as he says.

“Mr. Ryland, please don’t leave like this. I meant no disrespect. I’m just trying to help your children, not cause them any harm,” Dr. Trott—or Georgia like she asked us to call her—begs while looking at my brother and me with a pained expression on her face. “Please reconsider. Come back inside and just let me explain.”

“I’m not spending one more second in this place, and neither are my children. Not when it’s so obvious you’re trying to brainwash them and me with your psychoanalysis blabber. This ends today. I should have never brought them to you in the first place.”

“But you did bring them to me. Not only because you saw how much they needed to speak with someone after their mother died, but also because you sense that something isn’t completely right.”

“You’re wrong. I brought them to you because I was manipulated into doing so. If there is a psychopath in my midst, then it was the bitch who twisted my arm into bringing my children here. But no more. Jefferson, Kennedy. In the car. Now!”

“Antisocial personality disorder is more common than you think. If you just give me time to explain—”

My father turns around to face the woman who seems desperate to keep me and my brother here.

“What else could you possibly say after using words like psychopath or sociopath to define my children?”

Georgia’s panicked eyes widen at my father’s slip of the tongue.

“Mr. Ryland, I don’t think it’s appropriate you say these things in front of—”

“In front of who?” our father cuts in, pointing the finger at us. “Them? What are you afraid of, doctor? That your evaluation is right and that one day they will grow up and come pay you a visit? Maybe even slice your throat in the dead of night while you’re sleeping? Tell me. Just what type of horrors do you expect my twins to commit in the future?”

I wince when the beautiful woman’s ebony cheeks pale at my father’s malicious words. It’s a wonder how she’s able to recollect herself so quickly, looking adamant in her resolve to persuade my father to continue our therapy sessions with her.

“People with this disorder don’t necessarily have to be violent, much less criminal. They can lead perfectly healthy, normal lives without giving in to their genetic urges.”

“They’re children. You’re making them sound like monsters!”

“I didn’t say that at all,” she snaps back, offended, wrinkling her forehead in concern when she realizes Jeff and I are hanging on their every word.

My father’s scowl only deepens when he follows her line of vision and sees that we’re still standing right behind him.

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