Excerpt from Novel

 Later, while he was at a group, David was called out to meet with Lucy’s social worker. They went into a small meeting room, and David sat across from the social worker. She was a plump, attractive woman in her mid-thirties, with long black hair tied up in the back and big, dark eyes that looked out kindly and childlike beneath her curled eyelashes. She was dressed in black jeans and a black button-down shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to show some of her ample cleavage. She sat in a large leather desk chair, and David sat in an old vinyl armchair. She smiled at him with a serious, if not congenial air, and leaned forward in her chair with her hands folded in her lap. Her lips were painted bright red, and her face was pale and her cheeks were full. “I’d like to talk to you about Lucy,” she said in a low voice. David’s heart seemed to shoot up through his throat. “She told me that you have been a good friend to her. But, she has made it clear to me that she only wants to be friends, and nothing more. I think it’s best that you keep a distance from her, and not pursue her anymore.”

David was crushed. He felt anger rising up in himself, and he wanted to tell the social worker that it had been Lucy who had instigated things, and that it was her boyfriend who was manipulating her and making her upset. But he did not say these things. Instead, he let the pain sink into the depths of his heart. Tears formed in his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He swallowed his pride.

“I understand,” he said. “I won’t bother her anymore.”

The social worker smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “But please don’t take this the wrong way. She wants to be your friend. But that’s the limit.”

“Yes,” said David. “Fine. I can be her friend.” He said it but he didn’t mean it. Inwardly, he was already scathing Lucy. He wanted revenge, even if he knew that it wasn’t her fault that all of this had happened. It was her boyfriend. 

“I’m glad you accept this,” said the social worker. “Patients aren’t really allowed to have romantic attachments in the hospital anyway. I’m sure you know that.”

“I do,” said David.

“Well, again, thank you. You can go back to your group now.”

David got up and left the room, but he didn’t go back to the group. Instead, he turned down the hallway that led to his room. On the way, he thought he could hear the sound of sobbing coming from Lucy’s room. He stopped to listen. It was a gentle sobbing. The kind of sobbing that comes when one is trying to muffle the sound for fear of being overheard. When he heard this sound, he thought to himself that Lucy hadn’t really meant what she had told the social worker, that she must really love him after all. Hope filled him once again, even as tears filled his eyes from the sound of Lucy crying. He went into his room, fell to his knees beside his bed, and began to pray. “Lord,” he said. “I can’t give up on her. I know she really cares for me, and I won’t let her be the victim of an abuser. But what can I do?” Then he heard a voice, like an echo, in the back of his mind. It said: “Write her a letter.”