Chapter 14: The Psychiatrist Moves Up the Clock (Lauren POV)

Chapter 14: The Psychiatrist Moves Up the Clock (Lauren POV)

The smell of bacon woke me from the restless half-sleep I'd managed after watching shadows dance outside my window until dawn.
I stumbled downstairs to find Tom already dressed for work, flipping pancakes at the stove while Emma and Sophie sat at the kitchen table in their pajamas. Sarah moved around him, packing his lunch and filling travel mugs with coffee.
"Morning, Lauren," Tom said without turning around, his voice carrying the forced cheerfulness people used when pretending everything was normal. "Hope you slept better than the rest of us."
Sophie looked up from her orange juice, dark circles under her eyes making her look older than her five years. "Did you see the shadow man at your window too, Aunt Lauren?"
"Sophie," Sarah warned gently, setting a plate of eggs in front of her. "Eat your breakfast."
"I'm just asking," Sophie mumbled, but she picked up her fork obediently.
Tom slid a stack of pancakes onto a serving plate and carried them to the table. "Who wants pancakes? I made them extra fluffy, just how Emma likes them."
"Me!" Emma raised her hand enthusiastically, apparently having recovered from the night's drama better than the adults.
I poured myself coffee and sat down, watching the family's morning routine. Tom kept stealing glances at the windows, his jaw tight despite his cheerful demeanor. Sarah moved with the kind of controlled precision that meant she was holding herself together through sheer willpower.
"So," Tom said, cutting Emma's pancakes into bite-sized pieces, "I was thinking I might leave work a little early today. Take care of those overgrown trees."
"You don't have to do that," I said quickly. "I could..."
"No, it's fine. Should have trimmed them months ago anyway." He avoided my eyes as he spoke. "Some of those branches are getting close to the house. Could scratch the siding if we get a strong wind."
Sarah shot him a look that said she wasn't buying the tree explanation any more than I was, but neither of them was willing to say it in front of the girls.
"Daddy, will you cut down the big branch by my window?" Sophie asked.
"Sure, sweetheart. No more scratchy branches keeping you awake."
Sophie nodded solemnly, as if this would solve all her problems. I felt sick.
"Lauren," Tom continued, finally meeting my eyes, "you don't have to rush off this morning. I know you said you wanted to leave, but honestly, having you here makes Sarah happy. The girls love having their aunt around."
"I love Aunt Lauren being here!" Emma chimed in around a mouthful of pancake. "She reads better stories than Mommy."
"Hey!" Sarah protested, but she was smiling.
"It's true," Sophie added quietly. "Your voice does all the different characters."
The casual affection in their voices made my chest tight. These children had no idea that my presence in their home had put them in danger. They saw only their aunt who read stories and helped with breakfast, not the woman whose supernatural troubles had brought shadow creatures to scratch at their windows in the night.
"That's very sweet," I managed, "but I really should get back to my apartment. I have things to take care of."
Tom finished his coffee and checked his watch. "Well, if you change your mind, you're always welcome here. You know that, right?"
"I know."
He kissed Sarah goodbye, then bent to hug both girls. "Be good for Mommy today. And Sophie, no more worrying about shadows, okay? Daddy's going to fix everything."
"Okay, Daddy."
After Tom left, Sarah busied herself clearing the breakfast dishes while the girls ran upstairs to get dressed. I helped load the dishwasher, the domestic normalcy feeling surreal after the night's events.
"Tom's worried," Sarah said quietly, handing me a syrup-sticky plate. "He's trying not to show it, but I can tell."
"He should be worried. You all should be."
Sarah paused, a coffee mug halfway to the dishwasher. "What does that mean?"
I wanted to tell her everything, about the shadow figures, about the supernatural forces circling my investigation, about the very real danger that my presence brought to her family. But how could I explain that her five-year-old daughter had been visited by something that shouldn't exist without sounding completely insane?
"Nothing. I just mean it's normal for parents to worry when their kids have nightmares."
Sarah didn't look convinced, but before she could press the issue, my phone rang from the counter where I'd left it. Dr. Voss's name appeared on the screen.
My blood turned to ice. The psychiatrist wasn't supposed to call me until next week.
"I should take this," I said, stepping into the living room for privacy.
"Dr. James? This is Dr. Elizabeth Voss. I hope I'm not calling too early."
"Not at all. Is everything alright?"
"I'm afraid I need to move up our appointment. I've had a cancellation in my schedule, and given the urgency of your situation, I think we should meet sooner rather than later."
My mouth went dry. "How much sooner?"
"Can you come in this Friday? That would give us three days to complete the evaluation before your deadline with Captain Rodriguez."
Three days. Not six. Three.
"I... Friday works," I heard myself say, though my mind was screaming in panic.
"Excellent. My office is at Northwestern Memorial, suite 412. Ten AM sharp. Please bring any medications you're currently taking, and I'd recommend getting a good night's sleep before we meet. These evaluations can be quite thorough."
"Of course. Thank you, Dr. Voss."
"Oh, and Detective James? I understand you've been under considerable stress lately. Please don't hesitate to call if you need to talk before Friday. Sometimes these situations can feel overwhelming."
The line went dead, leaving me staring at my phone in the sudden quiet of Sarah's living room.
"Lauren?" Sarah appeared in the doorway, concern etched across her face. "Everything okay?"
I slipped the phone into my pocket, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Just work stuff."
"That didn't sound like work stuff."
"It was my psychiatrist. She moved up my evaluation."
Sarah's face went pale. "Moved it up? To when?"
"Friday."
"Friday? But that's only three days away!" Sarah sank onto the couch beside me. "Lauren, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
"You have to comply with the evaluation. You know that, right? If you don't show up, or if you try to fight it, they'll make it worse. They could have you committed involuntarily."
"I know."
Sarah grabbed my hands, her grip tight with desperation. "Promise me you'll go. Promise me you'll cooperate with them and do whatever she says. I can't lose you too, Lauren. Not like this."
Too. Sarah was thinking about our parents, about how mental illness had torn our family apart when we were teenagers. About how she'd watched our mother disappear into her own mind, leaving two girls to navigate adolescence basically alone.
"I'm not Mom," I said quietly.
"I know you're not. But I also know what happens when someone refuses treatment. I know how these things escalate." Tears gathered in her eyes. "Please, Lauren. Just do what they ask. Take whatever medication they prescribe. Submit to the evaluation. Show them you're willing to get better."
The desperation in her voice broke something inside me. Sarah genuinely believed I was having a mental breakdown. In her mind, the supernatural elements of my story were symptoms of psychosis, dangerous delusions that needed immediate medical intervention.
"Sarah, what if I told you that Sophie really did see something at her window last night? What if the scratches on the glass weren't from tree branches?"
"Lauren, don't."
"What if I told you that there are things in this world that most people can't see, but some people can? What if..."
"Stop!" Sarah's voice cracked like a whip. "Just stop. This is exactly what I'm talking about. This is why Dr. Voss moved up your appointment."
I stared at her, seeing the fear in her eyes. Not fear of supernatural creatures or shadow figures, but fear of losing her sister to the same mental illness that had claimed their mother.
"You really think I'm losing my mind."
"I think you're under enormous stress and you need help. Professional help." Sarah's voice gentled. "And that's okay, Lauren. It doesn't make you weak or crazy. It just makes you human."
The girls thundered down the stairs, dressed and ready for the day, their voices bright with childhood energy. Sarah quickly wiped her eyes and forced a smile.
"Who wants to go to the park?" she asked with fake enthusiasm.
"Me! Me!" both girls chorused.
"Lauren, want to come with us?" Sarah asked, though I could hear the hope in her voice that I'd stay, that I'd act normal and pretend everything was fine.
"Actually, I think I'll pass. I need to make some calls."
Sarah nodded, understanding that I needed space to process the phone call from Dr. Voss.
"Okay, but remember what I said. You don't have to leave. The girls love having you here."
"I love having Aunt Lauren here too," Sophie said seriously. "She keeps the bad things away."
If only Sophie knew that I was the one bringing the bad things to her door.
After Sarah left with the girls, I sat in the empty house and called Alex. He answered on the second ring.
"Lauren? How are you feeling this morning?"
"Not good. Dr. Voss called. She moved up my psychiatric evaluation."
"Moved it up? To when?"
"Friday. Three days from now."
There was a long pause. "That's not much time."
"No, it's not." I pressed my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache building. "Alex, I'm running out of options. If I can't prove my story before Friday, they're going to declare me mentally unfit. I'll lose my job, my career, everything."
"Hey, breathe. We're going to figure this out."
"How? We've been trying to gather evidence for days and we keep coming up empty. Whatever these things are, they're always one step ahead of us."
"Lauren, listen to me. I promise you, we'll find something before Friday. We'll get the proof you need."
The certainty in his voice was oddly comforting. Alex always seemed so confident, so sure that everything would work out. Sometimes I wondered how he maintained such optimism in the face of the impossible.
"What if we don't? What if..."
"We will. Trust me, Lauren. Have I ever let you down?"
I wanted to say no, but something nagged at the back of my mind.
But I pushed the thought away. I needed his support right now, not more paranoid suspicions.