Joshua raises his eyebrows in horror and glances at me.
“I’m here as a doctor, not a weird friend.” He smirks.
“Excellent.” I smirk.
Joshua raises a single eyebrow in jest. “Excellent?” He mouths proud of himself.
“That’s great.” Nicholas smiles.
“Sexual malfunction is common in PSTD.”
Joshua frowns. “PSTD?” he asks.
“Post traumatic stress disorder.”
“Nope, we don’t have that,” Joshua tells him, relieved. “We definitely don’t have that.”
My stomach sinks a little, I might have.
“And the communication between you two?” Nicholas asks.
“It’s fine,” Joshua replies a little too quickly.
Nicholas’ eyes hold Joshua’s. “So, you have discussed with her the information that was presented in court, along with your desire to end your life in prison?”
Joshua’s head drops and my eyes close in pain.
“And Natasha, have you told Joshua anything about what happened to you in that room?”
I don’t answer, simply staring straight ahead.
“How you escaped?”
I drop my head and my anxiety starts to rise.
“What you had to do to survive?”
I shake my head softly.
“Natasha, you know more than anyone that you need to talk and you need to vent, write down all your feelings. Writing in a diary is your coping mechanism. Why haven’t you been doing that?”
I stare at him for an extended time. I want to answer, I really do, but the lump in my throat is blocking my voice.
“Why, Natasha?”
The tears form behind my eyes.
“I need you to vocalise it for me so I understand – so that Joshua understands.”
I drop my head again and Joshua wraps his arm around me. “Look, this is too much,” Joshua warns him. “I don’t want her getting upset.”
“And why is that Joshua? Why do you feel you have to walk on eggshells around Natasha?”
Joshua frowns. “Why do you fucking think?”
Nicholas turns to Joshua. “How has everything been with you?”
“Fine,” he replies defiantly.
“So, you are off your sleeping medication?”
Joshua doesn’t answer and my eyes rise to his in question. “What?”
Joshua rubs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m just having trouble sleeping, that’s all. It means nothing.”
“What do you think about when you’re awake at night?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nope.”
“I think I know what you think about. Natasha got taken on your watch.”