James started to cry.  For the first time in forty years he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in.  Please don’t let me die.  Please don’t let me die. 

            “She left a suicide note,” said Talia.

            Her words slowly worked their way through his thoughts like a snake through a tangle of mangrove roots.  “What?”

            He rolled onto his back to look at her, his left side now drenched in blood.

            “It said, ‘My own therapist fucks me then treats me like shit.  He knows me better than anyone.  So what’s the point?’”

            He stared at her numbly, as if she were speaking in tongues.  He said, “The police said she was murdered.”

            “I flushed her note down the toilet.” 

            For a moment his eyes lost focus and he knew his blood loss was taking its toll.  He wondered if that was why he couldn’t understand what the hell she was talking about.

            “I wiped the prints off her mug,” she said, “took her pill bottle and turned the gas back on.”

            Realization struck him hard. “You framed me for a murder that never happened.”

            “I assumed when they found out her psychiatrist was married to her sister they’d wonder about your ethics and suspect a motive.  But I made the call to Mepham, just to make sure.”

            “What she wrote wasn’t true, Talia.  It was all in her head.  She wasn’t taking her meds.  She was delusional.”

            “I don’t think so.  You did it to me, why wouldn’t you do it to her?  I shudder to think how many others there were.”

            “There’s no evidence.  It’ll never stand up in court.”

            “I know.  That’s why I can’t take that chance.” 

            He finally understood her true intention.  He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it coming.  He’d sorely underestimated her.  She hadn’t trashed the room in a fit of rage, she’d done it to stage a struggle.  She hadn’t framed him for Kitty’s murder to get him convicted, she’d done it to bolster a claim of self-defense.  Since the moment she’d found her sister’s body, she’d been meticulously painting his murder by the numbers.

            “You won’t get away with it,” he said.  “You’ll go to prison for the rest of your life.”

            This brought the shadow of a prideful smile to her lips.  “I’ll be spending the rest of my life living right here in your house.  ‘Your Honor, he accused me of betraying him to the police.   He went crazy.   He pulled a gun.  I don’t know how I got it away.  It was him or me.’”

            “You don’t have to do this, Talia.”

            “Someone has to stop you.”

            She placed the bore of the .38 between his eyes. 

            “Your time’s up for today, Dr. Lynch.” Parroting his words at the end of their sessions.  “Talia, please.”

            “Like you said: I need to get rid of my demons.”