Seeing Black

by Sidney Halston

  “Okay, okay. I have to fix this. Fuck!” He grabbed her again but this time less forcefully. Tenderly, as if he really needed her to understand, he said, “It’s not what you think.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He shook her. “Damn it, Jillian. It is not what you think!”

  Paul let her go, opened the door, looked side to side, and motioned for Alexander to walk in. When he stepped inside, Paul closed the door and locked it. Alexander took a step towards Jill, his arms crossed, legs slightly parted. He looked menacing.

  “Jacobs, you can’t let Jillian see Taylor. Are you listening to me? She cannot see him. He is a dangerous man. Do you understand?” He was staring at Jillian.

  “And why should we trust you?”

  Paul plopped down on his chair, looking defeated. “You just have to. You may not trust me, but you certainly cannot trust that man for one second.” He stood up again and grabbed Jill’s forearms. “Do. Not. See. Him. Again.” He shook her as he spoke.

  “Enough!” Alexander pushed Paul back and laced his fingers in Jill’s hands and pulled her out of the room. The last thing Jill heard before Alexander slammed the door was “Fuck!” and something being thrown against the door inside Paul’s office.

  Alexander was parked a few spaces next to Jill’s car. He led her by the hand but was walking ahead of her and so fast that Jill was practically jogging behind him.

  “Would you slow down!” Jill said, trying to remove Alexander’s grip on her hand.

  “Sorry,” Alexander said, but didn’t slow down enough. When they reached her car, he turned her around, a little forcefully.

  “What the fuck, Alexander?” She pulled her arm away. “That hurt!”

  He seemed to ignore her. “Listen. I don’t like that asshole Paul, but I agree with him. You can’t see your father—”

  “We’ve already been through this. You can’t tell me what to—”

  “God damn it, Jillian. Just stop it!” He paced behind her car, his fists clenching and unclenching. When he finally spoke, the words were like an arrow straight through her heart. “If you see him again, then we can’t continue seeing each other.”

  Her mouth opened. She was going to throw up. It was just too much. “Are you giving me an ultimatum? Are you telling me that if I continue to see my father—my fucking father—you’ll break up with me?”

  He didn’t say anything in response.

  “You have the fucking nerve to stand here, after disappearing for a week with some woman, and give me an ultimatum?”

  “It’s for your own good, Jillian. He’s going to hurt you. He killed someone. Don’t be stupid. You saw the murder charges yourself, and now this son of a bitch, Paul, confirmed it. You can’t see him. I can’t live my life thinking you’re hurt somewhere.”

  “Don’t you fucking worry. You’ve made yourself clear.” She pulled her keys out of her purse and stomped to the car.

  “I know you’re upset. I’ll give you a few days to calm down and call him if you feel you have to tell him you can’t see him anymore.”

  “You have lost your fucking mind, Alexander. I will not just obey your command as if you’re my father! You’re acting more like my father than my boyfriend!” Jill looked at him incredulously. He actually thought, actually assumed, that she would bow down to his ultimatums and stop seeing her father because he commanded it to be so. He had lost his goddamn mind! Jill flung her door open, sat down, and slammed the door closed. She peeled out of the parking lot, fuming.

  Chapter 7

  One day, your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it’s worth watching.

  -Helen

  It was Wednesday, two days after the mock-trial debacle, two days since Jillian had fought with Alexander, and two days since she’d spoken to him. She had barely enough time to see him at the mock trial seminar, much less actually talk to him. Besides, she was still angry at his high-handedness regarding Paul and her father, not to mention the whole Miriam incident. More than the incident itself, it angered her that he didn’t believe her, that he would actually think she’d lie about what Miriam had said. Luckily, Paul had failed to attend the seminar on Tuesday, which meant less drama to endure. Suffice it say, the week thus far had been shitty. She had a pending engagement to have an early dinner with Rocco, one she wasn’t too excited to keep.

  The time Jillian had visited Rocco had consisted of a light meal while they reminisced about her mother. Everything was benign and superficial. In fact, she had begun to feel warmth towards him. She wasn’t even concerned about the medical tests he had mentioned at the initial meeting. He had gained her trust. But, today, Jill was cranky, sleepy, and overall bitchy. The warning Paul had given her yesterday floated around in her head. She tried to ignore it, but it lingered and nagged at her. He had planted the seed of doubt. Damn him! Before her final seminar of the day ended, she snuck out to the bathroom and dialed Rocco. He didn’t pick up. As she was about to dial again, her heart beat wildly. First, there was nausea. Then her palms grew cold, but her body temperature began to rise until she was sweating. She could see or hear nothing except the voice of a very evil man, the man who had threatened her friends two previous times already.

  “Heather is a sweet girl. You wouldn’t want to see her hurt, would you?” That was all that was said. The blackness must have lasted thirty seconds, but the toll it took on her would last much longer. She tried to rush to the sink to splash her face with water, but she felt as if she had weights holding her down. She leaned her hands against the sink and slowly, with all her effort, was able to take a few deep breaths and splash cold water on her face. The formerly cranky Jill was now in full-out bitch mode: exhausted, tired bitch-mode.

  She dragged her feet to the parking lot where she saw Rocco’s usual driver. He opened the door and she sat inside, immediately closing her eyes and falling asleep. She couldn’t even process the threat.

  When she awoke, they were still driving. She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep “This isn’t the usual drive, Jim.” Jill poked her tired head through the division between the back seat and the front seat.

  “We’re going to Mr. Taylor’s other home this afternoon,” Jim, the chauffer, replied.

  Jill shrugged and sat back down. She was too exhausted to question anything. It was the kind of exhaustion that didn’t matter where or when she slept. She just needed sleep right away. Upon arrival, she would definitely give Rocco a piece of her mind. If these threats to her friends did not stop, she was going to end all ties to Rocco. That would be her threat to him. She was going to Rocco willingly; threats were unnecessary.

  Thirty minutes later the car pulled up in front of a mansion that put Rocco’s other mansion to shame. As soon as she stepped out of the limo, an ominous feeling spread through her body. Whereas the other home was warm and inviting, this one was cold. It was huge. Massive. Most of the walls were made up of floor-to-ceiling windows. The back faced acres of beautiful, green, lush land for horses to roam, and at the far end of the acreage, she could see the Gulf of Mexico. There were also gigantic stables and gardens.

  “May I take your bag, miss?”

  “Jillian. Please call me Jillian,” she said. She handed the man her bags. He had picked her up straight from school instead of at home, and she still had books and her laptop with her. He nodded.

  She moved around the spacious open-floor layout of the home, brushing her fingers across the light-colored wood coffee table. There was not one knick-knack, not a single picture frame. The house was cold, modern in design and décor. Low to the floor, a white leather couch adorned the living room. It was made for style and convenience, not for coziness or practicality. The artwork on the wall was abstract. Overall, the house felt formal and utilitarian, not warm or inviting. It was sterile.

  A cold voice behind her startled her out of her thoughts. “So glad you made it, my dear.”

  “I don’t think I had much of a choice, Rocco.”

  “You al
ways have a choice, dear. You didn’t have to come.” But even as it came out of his mouth, she knew he was lying.

  “Well, I’m sure you know that I was summoned here. When I tried to cancel, someone, maybe Josef, sent me a threat. What choice did I have?”

  “Threat?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Rocco. I may not be as experienced in my little gift as you are, but I know enough to know that you know things. You know everything. In fact, I’m sure you know how I feel right this very second. You can probably sense the anger and exhaustion. You know very well that Josef gets inside my head.”

  “I’ll make sure he stops. He sometimes gets a little impatient. I apologize.”

  “So you did know. Besides, you already told me, the first time we met at your other home, that you’d make sure he stopped. He hasn’t. And I do not appreciate it.” Jill squared her shoulders and took a step toward him. “I would’ve come without the threats. I want to get to know you. I warned you not to deceive me. Maybe everyone was right. You are dangerous. I asked you not to lie to me. Please, take me home.”

  “Okay. Let’s lay the cards out right now. I wanted you here. Josef can get inside your head and in mine. You and I don’t have that power. It’s the only power he has left. He, too, can’t visualize any longer. This is a gift he possesses. He alone. It’s not exactly telepathy, because he can’t read your mind or manipulate your thoughts. It’s like reverse telepathy; he can make you read his thoughts. He wants to study you as much as I do. He’s impatient. You have to understand we’ve been trying to find another psychic for decades. He’s afraid you’re going to change your mind.”

  “I already agreed to your testing in exchange for your knowledge. I never go back on my word, so long as you are only taking a little blood and conducting one scan. I don’t want to be prodded and probed.”

  “Of course. Just a pinch and a scan.”

  “And you will make sure Josef stops getting in my head?”

  “I swear it.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  “I apologize for Josef. He shouldn’t have interfered. He meant well. He wouldn’t have hurt your friends. I’d still like to have dinner with you, but I would understand if you still want to leave. I can have my driver take you home.” He closed the gap between them and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  Suddenly feeling calm and more at ease, she believed him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. She yawned.

  “You’re tired.”

  She nodded. “It’s been a long day, and that vision from Josef was the final straw.”

  “Yes. I explained that they will become more and more strenuous on your body. Why don’t you take a nap. We have plenty of rooms. When you wake up, if you still want to go home, I will take you myself.”

  She wanted to leave immediately, but she was just so exhausted. Her eyes were closing.

  “I take that as a yes.” His smile wiped the ominous feeling from the air. “Come on. Let me show you to your room.”

  “My room?”

  “Just trust me.”

  ***

  Jillian opened her eyes and stretched her arms up to the ceiling. She woke up refreshed. Well rested. Ready to start the day. She sat up and took in her surroundings. Huh? She was slightly disoriented. Yesterday, she had had a lovely dinner with Rocco. They’d gotten to know each other, and she’d been about to leave, but . . .? But what happened? Something was off. She got off the bed and walked towards the bedroom door, but not before she glanced at herself in the mirror by the bedroom door. “What the hell?” she whispered, as she tugged on the white linen pajama pants and matching top. There were matching slippers in her size by the door. “I look like a reject from a Ralph Lauren catalog,” she whispered. It was a big change from the camisole and panties she normally wore. Her red hair hung loose, and her eyes were brilliant. She had definitely had a wonderful night’s sleep. Now, if she could just remember something about it.

  She opened the door and went downstairs, making her way towards the kitchen. What was odd was that she walked as if she knew where everything was, as if this were not the first time she’d woken up in this house or walked to the kitchen. It was a strange kind of déjà vu.

  “Good morning, Ms. Stone.” An elderly woman greeted her. She stood by a big stainless-steel professional gas stove, stirring something.

  “Um, good morning, Ms. . .” Was she supposed to know this woman?

  “Remy. I don’t like when you call me Ms. Johansen, silly child. Come on and eat. I made your favorite.” Remy pulled out the chair for Jillian.

  “My favorite?”

  Remy chuckled and placed her warm hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Fresh blueberry pancakes, dear.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Jill was completely confused. There had to be an explanation. Remy walked away and Jill looked around. It was the first time she’d ever seen the kitchen or met Remy. Right?

  “Eat up. You barely ate yesterday.”

  “I didn’t?”

  Remy shook her head side to side. “You weren’t feeling well, you said.”

  “Oh, ah, actually, I’m not feeling so well right now either.” She had a bad feeling. “I’m sorry, Remy, but I’m a little confused. How did I—?”

  “My lovely daughter, how are you this fine morning?” Rocco strolled into the kitchen, placed his hands on her shoulders, and gave Jill a peck on the top of her head.

  “I’m great. Slept like a baby.”

  “Oh, and I see Remy made your favorite.”

  “Yes, she did. How did she know it was my favorite? Besides, I’m not really all that hungry.”

  Remy chuckled.

  “Aren’t you? Are you sure you don’t want to just taste it. Remy went through all the trouble.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” Jill said politely, cut a small piece, and tasted the warm fluffy pancake. “Mmm. So good.”

  “Once you’ve finished, please take your vitamins, dress comfortably, and meet me in the lab.”

  “Lab?”

  “Yes. Today we’re going to work on your focus.” He kissed the top of her head again and walked out. Jill was baffled. Did she know where the lab was? Did she have comfortable clothes?

  “Another helping?” Remy took her out of her thoughts.

  “Another? No, I’m not feeling well, I said. I’m not hungry,” she said, but when she looked down at her plate, every last morsel was gone, and she was suddenly very full. Had she eaten all those pancakes? There were two large brown pills and a large glass of water in front of her. Instinctively, she put them in her mouth and swallowed.

  Jill remained on auto-pilot as she stood and made her way up the decadent staircase, slowly. Dazed, yet not scared. Confused, yet not nervous. Actually, she was relaxed and looking forward to her session with her father. Jill ran her hand along the white-and-gray marble railing of the grand staircase. She looked up to see an obscenely huge wrought-iron chandelier. The house smelled of nothing, which was strange, not of the pancakes that Remy had just prepared, not of a specific air freshener. Nothing. She closed her eyes as she opened the door to her bedroom—the bedroom she’d woken up in—and took a deep breath in order to try to memorize the scent, but nothing. It was peculiarly insipid. Once on the other side of the door, she couldn’t remember how she had just made her way to the room without any guidance. She opened the door, stuck her head out, and looked right and left down the hall. There must have been a dozen doors. They were all closed, and hers was somewhere in the middle. How’d she know to walk into that specific door? She brought her head back inside the room, closed the door, and leaned back against the closed door. What the hell was going on?

  Jill walked into the enormous walk-in closet, took out a pair of gray yoga pants, a black tank top, and sneakers. She picked up her hair in a perfect ponytail and swiped on some lip gloss. Jill headed out the door of her bedroom and towards the lab. She passed four doors and opened the fifth door to the left. The wall opposite the door had floor-to-ceiling window
s overlooking the acres of the greenest grass she’d ever scene with horses running wild and stables along the side. The floors were a white marble, and the walls were white, like everything else in the house. The room was completely bare except for a wrought-iron spiral staircase right smack in the middle of the room. Jill closed the door behind her and climbed up the stairs until she reached the next floor. What she found was an exact replica of the room below. It was eerie. She opened the door to this second room to find a colossal room that must have spanned the entire length of the first floor of the mansion. Opposite the door, there were floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. There were mats placed all along the windows, and she immediately recognized the room as the location she had seen Rocco sitting on a dozen times months ago when she was overcome by constant visions of him. There was a harsh contrast between the serene view of the Gulf and the medical equipment scattered along the other side of the huge expanse of the room. She heard beeps and bleeps and other noises. Rocco stood next to another man with their backs to her. Both men looked down at the screen, deep in conversation. Surely, they hadn’t heard her come in. She quietly looked around and took in her surroundings. The man next to Rocco seemed familiar, but without looking at his face, it was hard to tell.

  “Don’t be shy.” Jillian saw Rocco gesture to the mats without turning around. “Please have a seat, and we’ll begin shortly.” She nodded, although no one was looking at her.

  Jill sat on the floor on a mat strategically placed a few feet away from the window overlooking the ocean. She turned her head back to the men. She tried to get a good look at the man with Rocco. He was about the same height as Rocco, not quite six feet tall. His head was completely bald and gleamed against the light on the ceiling. She could see the back of glasses around his ears, and he wore a white lab coat. The man turned to reach for something behind him, and Jill noticed he was younger than Rocco by at least ten years. Before he turned back around, his eyes locked on Jill’s, and she immediately knew who he was. “You!” Jill accused, out loud.