Page 35 - DeepRestFlipFinal

DEEP REST
Her eyes landed on a name: Liam O’Connell.
Liam. Forty-two. A brilliant architect, now a ghost
of himself. Diagnosed with severe, treatment-resistant
depression. He had tried everything: medication
cocktails, electroconvulsive therapy, transcranial
magnetic stimulation. Nothing had worked. He was a
shell, barely functioning, his eyes hollow, his spirit
extinguished. He had come to her as a last resort.
And, he was due for a session in two hours.
A jolt went through her. This was it. The moment
of truth. If the treatment could touch Liam, it could
touch anyone.
But the risk. What if it didn't work? What if it
made him worse? What if they found out?
She saw Mallory’s photos on her desk. Mallory,
smiling. Mallory, lost.
For Mallory, she thought again. And for all the
Mallorys out there.
The decision was made.
The Clinic.
Liam shuffled into her private clinic room, his
shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the floor. He
wore a rumpled suit, his usually meticulous
appearance long abandoned. He hadn't shaved in days.
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