He decided that her response could be interpreted many ways. None of them as threatening as this made him now feel. Jesus Christ, she was only twelve.

“How does life work for you?” he’d said.

The first part of her answer was reasonable, displaying the emotional intelligence he’d come to expect.

“Life and fate are neither good nor bad. They distribute luck in proportion to what is deserved. It took my mother’s death to show me that.”

“That’s exceptional and profound Nem, but I don’t accept you or your mother deserved what happened. And you haven’t answered the question. How does everything you’ve experienced work with that idea of luck?”

“Look at what happened to Alan. He got my reply to his fake apology. I miss my mom. But what if she did the wrong thing lying to me?”

“Okay, let’s first discuss Alan. You could have no control over his fate, whatever that was. And secondly, I’m sure your mother did what was, in her mind, best for you.”

To his dismay, on playback, he noted the disbelief in his tone. He should have kept that subdued to avoid alienating her. That could have explained her reply.

“Really?” she’d said. “All these visits and you don’t believe me?”

He had cleared his throat on the recording and now wished he hadn’t done that. She may have realized his discomfort, perhaps read his body language. In letting down his guard, somehow this young patient had taken the power in this interaction.

“Then you’ll see, Dr. Shepherd. I’m not here by chance.”

“Okay Nem. You believe… what you want if that… helps you.”

A faltering in his voice made him sound as though he was the patient. When she’d said not here by chance, she couldn’t be referring to his issue? How could she have any knowledge of that? Impossible. Nobody knew. Nobody.

“And what does that mean Nem? Should I be afraid?”

He’d punctuated this question with what he’d imagined was a friendly chuckle, as if they were both in on a joke. His training made him skilled at keeping his impression of patients’ statements to himself. But something about her was so unsettling, his emotions were not within his control.

A long pause followed. In those seconds he heard his breath; slow and deep.

“Nem? I’ll ask again. What do you mean by then you’ll see?”

“I’m sorry,” came her reply, in a voice far calmer than his. “You’ll receive your due in correct proportions. That’s my meaning. I think you understand perfectly. You can’t take back what you’ve done, just as Alan’s apology changed nothing. What did you say about luck? Not luck. Poor choices.”

His tone had risen an octave. “But I didn’t… haven’t killed anyone?”

“Haven’t you?” came the reply. “You must suspect that’s not true.”

Dr. Shepherd switched off the transcriber and stared at the device for long seconds, before pressing delete as if it contained an abomination. He rewrote the redacted sentence on his notepad, gazing down at the words as guilt flooded his mind.