Kill Switch Read Online Free

psychotic?”
    â€œHe has no history of psychosis.”
    Watching the monitors, they saw Quimby in the corner of the room, the weight of his memories pushing him to the floor as his back slid down the wall. Claire stood next to her chair, trying to figure out her next move.
    â€œShe doesn’t know what to do,” Fairborn worried aloud.
    â€œGive her a chance, Lois,” Curtin said to her. “She hasn’t disappointed. Yet.”
    And then Curtin talked to the monitor.
    â€œGo to him, Claire,” he whispered. “Go to him.”
    Â 
    Quimby was shaking, sweating. Didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten there. But Claire knew. The way someone knows when they’ve found their true calling. The way, Claire realized, from that horrible day Mr. Winslow pulled up at her house two decades ago, that she could read him and others. Now her instincts kicked into high gear, and she moved slowly, carefully, unthreateningly, toward Quimby, who was sitting hunched with his knees to his chest.
    His mother put her hand over his mouth. The blood was on her clothes. He could see it. Smell it. He couldn’t breathe.
    â€œWho are you?” he asked shakily.
    â€œDr. Waters, Todd. Are you still with me?” she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.
    Her touch calmed him, her voice so soft he could barely hear her. She held out a hand. Quimby took it and let her help him up, looking at her with a trust he hadn’t felt in years.
    She led him back to the table, pressing his shoulder blade. It felt sharp through his regulation jumpsuit, protruding from his skinny frame. He sat down, and Claire grabbed her chair, pulling it around the table to sit next to him.
    â€œTell me what happened,” she said, sitting down, knowing he was ready. “What you just saw.”
    â€œI didn’t see it,” he responded quickly. “I heard it. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.”
    â€œLike a gun being fired.”
    â€œYeah, the old Thompson at the carnival shooting gallery,” Quimby said, relaxing a bit. “Thing held a hundred BBs. Sounded like the real deal.”
    He’s stalling, Claire thought. I almost had him, and now he doesn’t want to go back. But at least he’s still at the carnival.
    â€œYou liked going to the carnival,” she tried.
    â€œI liked shooting the Thompson,” replied Quimby.
    â€œYour mother would take you?”
    Quimby looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “Never. That bitch cursed the day I was born.”
    The words were out before Quimby realized he’d said them. I’ve got him now. “You think your mother hates you,” Claire pressed.
    â€œYou’re just like all the other shrinks,” Quimby said. “I’m not some freak who wants to screw his mother.”
    â€œI never said you were,” Claire replied evenly. “I just want to know why you feel this way.”
    Her words calmed Quimby down. “Because of the flyswatter.”
    â€œWhat did she do with the flyswatter?”
    â€œHit me.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œOn my penis. ‘That’s a nasty little fly,’ she’d say.”
    His mother abused him. The realization made her mind wander. Amy ... What terrible things did Winslow do to her?
    She’d never been able to stop thinking about her best friend’s last few hours. The terror she must have felt. For Claire it was the curse that came with her gift, the haunting memory that had both pushed her into becoming a therapist and pulled her back from fully engaging with her patients.
    â€œAre you listening to me?” Quimby asked, pulling Claire out of her memories.
    â€œYes, your mother hit you,” she said, focusing back on Quimby.
    â€œThat’s nothing. One time Mom said, ‘I’ll snip the little bugger off. Then we’ll see what kind of man you’ll be.’ ”
    â€œHow often did this happen?”
    â€œEvery time I did