Pretty Polly by Abby Davies EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Abby Davies
- Language: English
- Genre: Serial Killer Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Tension vibrates in the air like a poised quill, the future yet to be written.
Outside my office, the sky is papery and dull; as lifeless as the teenage girl
opposite me.
While Polly George completes the medical form, I take the opportunity
to consider her. She wears minimal makeup and smells clean and fresh. Her
school uniform is unwrinkled and bears no tears or stains. She is striking –
breathtakingly beautiful in fact – but unnaturally pale; a symptom no doubt
of her troubled young mind.
I think of Michael when he was fifteen. Scrawny and splattered with
acne, but always smiling, always positive. Fortunately, puberty gave him an
easy ride and somehow, despite what I did, he’s never struggled mentally. I
smile at Polly, try to communicate to her that my office is a safe space, that
I’m here to offer help and guidance. Deep down, I know that if Michael
ever felt the need to do what this young girl has done, my logical approach
would go out the window.
“Polly, before we get started, I want to let you know that everything
we talk about is confidential. The only exception is if you tell me that
you’re going to hurt or kill yourself or someone else or that you know of a
child or elder who’s being abused.”
She doesn’t react.
Light streams through the window casting her in an angelic glow. Her
face is so symmetrical and enchanting, as if it’s been carved out of white
marble by a sorceress.
“I know you’re taking anti-depressants now. Would you say they’re
helping?”
Instead of answering my question, her eyes flit to mine and away. She
wraps her arms around her torso and hugs herself tightly. I wait for her to
answer but she continues to stare at her knees. She looks so small and
helpless. Silence stretches on. I hold my tongue, give an encouraging smile.
I mustn’t pressure her. She’ll speak in her own time.
“Alone together,” she says, her voice soft, sad.
“Yes, we are alone. Are you pleased it’s just the two of us, Polly?”
She nods but doesn’t look up. “My mum’s finding things difficult. It’s
hard to be around her right now.”
I lean back in my chair. ‘Can you talk to her about how you feel?’
Her gaze drifts to a faraway place. Moving like an old woman, Polly
rises from the sofa. “I’m beginning to worry about her.”
She looks around my office, takes in the bright walls and oak
furnishings, the bonsai tree that Michael gave me for my birthday. Her
posture is ballerina-like, complexion as pure as china. She homes in on the
bookshelf at the back of the room.
I know what she’s going to do before she
does it. With a shy smile, she walks toward my books, most of which are
psychiatry tomes I haven’t touched since university. A shiver passes
through me as she trails her fingers across their meaty spines.
“Have you read all of these?” she says.
“Most of them, yes. I wonder if you could sit down now so we can talk
properly?”
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