Underneath the pentagram, written in a childish hand, was: HELLO JOOOLIA.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Who do you think left the note?” Dr. Forrest asked.
Julia held her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting, palms moist. The paneled walls of Dr. Forrest’s office had always provided comfort, but today they seemed closer than usual, more oppressive. The smell from the coffee maker crowded the air. Julia’s chair squeaked, the noise magnified by the long pause.
Julia couldn’t meet the therapist’s eyes. But Dr. Forrest was kind, was Julia’s savior, was her tour guide through the house of her head. Dr. Forrest wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.
“Come now, Julia,” the therapist said gently. “You can trust me, remember?”
“I don’t know,” Julia said, breath catching. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, her knees trembled beneath her slacks.
“You don’t know who left it?”
“No.”
“The man was arrested for breaking into your house.”
“Except Walter said the window was already open.”
“This Walter…do you trust him?”
Julia looked outside. Dr. Forrest usually kept the shades drawn during their sessions, but today was so glorious that it invited cheerful thoughts. The sun splashing the red and golden trees, the sky a soft shade of blue, the clouds spread thin and wispy above the mountains. A day for hoping, a day full of optimism, the promise of coming winter’s decay carefully hidden beneath the vibrant splendor.
“I don’t know him very well,” she finally said.
“Stay away from him. He’s not conducive to your healing.”
“But he was nice to me. Besides you, he’s the only one that hasn’t hurt me.”
“It’s only natural for you to feel vulnerable. After what happened with Mitchell–”
“You said we didn’t have to talk about that anymore.”
“Of course. We’ll have to deal with it eventually, but today, let’s work on the note.”
“It’s from one of the bad people,” Julia said decisively. “They’re back. They followed me here.”
“Now, Julia, just because you found out that this Snead person moved to Elkwood is no indication of a conspiracy. The past is real, the abuse occurred, and you suffered tremendously. But we need to realize that the past is over, or we’ll never heal.”
Julia squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re the one who says that I need to bring the past alive.”
Dr. Forrest stood and walked to the window. “Why are you angry with me, Julia?”
“Angry?”
“Is it because I wasn’t there when you needed me? That you’ve made these discoveries of self and suffered the panic attacks without my being able to help you?”
Julia gnawed at the end of her thumb, a new habit. “No, that’s not it at all.”
“Are you blaming me, Julia?”
Julia fought the urge to rise, to go to Dr. Forrest and kneel, to beg forgiveness. “It’s not your fault. None of it. If I didn’t have you–”
Dr. Forrest turned, a smile dying on her lips. The therapist was trying so hard to be pleasant even though Julia was acting like a spoiled child. Julia was being unfair, and she knew it. Yet she couldn’t help herself. Sometimes Julia thought Dr. Forrest carried more of her emotional baggage than she herself did.
If only I had your strength.
“You’re the only thing that’s kept me from going off the deep end,” Julia finished.
Dr. Forrest returned to her chair and scooted it close to Julia’s. She held her patient’s hand. “Let’s stop this talk of going crazy, Julia. You are not crazy. Your scars are not the product of your imagination. Mitchell’s attack wasn’t a dream. The man peeping through your window wasn’t made up. The note is a fact, it exists, it’s real.”
Julia looked at her purse where the paper was carefully folded. She should have taken it to the police. But the thought of meeting Snead, or having him assigned to the case, frightened her more than a thousand creepy notes. This mythic Snead was gaining power in her mind. Soon he would be twelve feet tall, sprouting horns and breathing fire.
The wooden box containing the ring was also in her purse, next to the note. She didn’t like carrying it around, and its proximity filled her with worry. Yet she didn’t want to leave the box at the house which seemed so easy to invade. And its proximity provided a perverse comfort, an anchor to an insubstantial past.
“It’s all real, Julia.” Dr. Forrest continued. “And you know what else is real, don’t you?”
Julia nodded. “The bad people. The ritual. The abuse.”
“The memory lives in your body, doesn’t it?”
Her scars throbbed. A sharp pain raced between her legs.
“They did it to you, didn’t they?”
Julia shrank back in her chair, tossed her hair from side to side.
“Don’t deny it, Julia. We’ve gone this far. You’re ready to take the last step.”
“No,” Julia moaned.
“We can heal these new injuries. But the key is to beat this old one first. We have to bring it out. It’s the only thing holding you back, the only thing keeping you from becoming the new Julia Stone.”
Silence. A truck passed on the road outside.
“You know who left the note, don’t you?” Dr. Forrest said, voice lower.
The panic scrambled in from the corners of the room, on quick black legs. Why was Dr. Forrest doing this?
“You know, Julia. Share with me.”
She didn’t know. She twisted in her chair but had nowhere to run. Blind alleys in every direction, the nightmare edges of cliffs, the cold walls of deep cellars.
“The same one who held the knife.” Dr. Forrest rubbed Julia’s fingers.
“You–you said it was all in the past.”
Dr. Forrest leaned close, her voice smooth, as seductive as that of Eden’s serpent. “But the past informs the present, Julia. We are who they have made us.”
Julia didn’t understand, and her thoughts were racing too much to concentrate. The panic swirled, its black talons tickling paths across her skin. Why didn’t Dr. Forrest help her?
“It’s coming,” Julia gasped. “Can we do a relaxation?”
“Soon, Julia. First, we need to approach this. We need to uncover the entire memory. Because part of it is still buried, and we can’t go forward until we’ve completely exposed the past.”
Dr. Forrest’s hand clasped Julia’s, squeezing reassuringly. The doctor continued, her breath on Julia’s cheek. “Don’t hold it back, Julia. Or should I say, ‘Jooolia’?”
Julia tensed, her spine as brittle as chalk, her muscles aching.
“Who held the knife, Julia?”
The panic had its hands around her throat, constricting her windpipe. Blood pooled in her head, she felt faint and dizzy, but there was nowhere to fall.
“Who did it, Julia?”
“He did,” she whispered.
“He gave you away, didn’t he? He betrayed you.”
Julia gave a frantic nod.
“Say it, Julia.”
She wanted to tear her hair out, to rip her eyes from their sockets, to slice her flesh with sharp blades. Anything but to deal with this. Anything besides facing the most terrible Creep of all.
“Say it, Julia,” Dr. Forrest commanded, clamping Julia’s hand so tightly that it hurt.
Julia sought escape in the rooms of her head, scrambled for the attic. Dr. Forrest was inside the house with her, slowly climbing up the stairs. No locks could keep the doctor out.
Just as no locks could keep out the truth.
“SAY IT.”
“Daddy,” she tried to say, though she didn’t think any air passed over her larynx.
“Say it, Julia. Bring him out. Don’t protect him. You don’t owe him any loyalty, not after what he did to you.”
“Daddy,” she whispered.
“He gave you away, didn’t he, Julia? He
’s one of them. He loved them more than he loved you. He loved Satan more than he loved you.”
She had reached the mental attic, was cradled by its dusty corners. If only there were a window from which she could jump. Behind her came Dr. Forrest’s footsteps on the stairs, and the soft, insistent voice.
“Go back to that night, Julia.”
No. Not that night. Not ever again.
“Go back.”
And she was suddenly years away, without hypnosis, without undergoing the slow countdown. As if yesterday and today were really not separate things. The rooms of the past resided in the same house as the rooms of the present, always only a door away.
And Julia stood frozen in the doorway, four years old and scared.
The bad people in the hoods gathered around Daddy. They were yelling at him. They were going to hurt him.
Daddy looked over at her, standing in her pajamas, Chester Bear dangling by her side. Why was Daddy crying?
Then the bad people saw her.
“She belongs to him, not to you,” said one of the bad people, the tall one. He held his fist near Daddy’s face. “All things belong to him. The money and the flesh.”
Daddy shook his head. He was wearing a dark robe, just like the others. Except his hood was down. She couldn’t see the faces of the other bad people. She was so afraid she almost wet her pajamas, and she hadn’t done that in a long time. She was Daddy’s good girl who made him proud.
“You can’t have her, Lucius,” Daddy said to the bad man.
“It’s not for me,” he said, shaking his fist, his voice growing deeper, scarier. “The Master has ordered it.”
“No,” Daddy said. “I’m done with it. I want out.”
“No one gets out,” the bad man said. “You signed in blood. He owns you now, just as he owns this whore Judas Stone.”
The other people in hoods moved closer to Daddy.
“Daddy!” Julia shrieked.
“It’s okay, honey,” Daddy said. Then he pulled his hood over his head. She couldn’t see his face, and his eyes glowed like the glass eyes of a stuffed animal.
Daddy held out his hands, the sleeves of the robe drooping, full of shadows. “We won’t hurt you. I’ll take care of you.”
She hesitated, afraid to leave her room. Darkness behind her like a long curtain.
“Come on, Jooolia,” he cooed, just as he did at play, happy times of crayons and the blue pool in the yard and dolls making dinner and cars and trucks and wooden blocks on the living room floor. Just like normal.
She took a small step forward. Why was Daddy wearing the hood? Didn’t he know how scary he looked?
“It’s just a little game we play,” Daddy said, coming toward her, his hands out. Like he wanted to hug her.
“What’s he doing?” came Dr. Forrest’s voice, as if from behind a wall. Dr. Forrest didn’t belong here. Dr. Forrest belonged back there.
But Dr. Forrest was her friend. Dr. Forrest wanted to help her. Dr. Forrest wouldn’t let the bad people get her.
“It’s just a little game we play,” Julia said.
“And he’s holding your hand, taking you with the bad people,” Dr. Forrest said. “What’s happening?”
“Daddy’s carrying me. It’s nighttime because it’s dark and I see stars and it’s cold and I’m scared. I dropped Chester Bear somewhere. I smell the wet grass.”
“You’re in the barn, aren’t you?” asked Dr. Forrest. Such a nice lady.
“There are more bad people here, and some smoke that smells funny. Stuff is burning in little pots. There’s a big gray rock on the dirt. I can’t see the stars anymore.”
“Daddy puts you on the rock, doesn’t he?”
Julia nodded, confused. She was supposed to be remembering, but she didn’t want to.
Because this isn’t happening. If you close your eyes, it goes away.
“Don’t shut the door, Julia,” came Dr. Forrest’s voice again. “You’re close.”
Close. The bad man’s breath is on her skin. Somebody takes her pajamas, and she’s naked and cold. She tries to move, but she can’t. The rock is hard under her back.
The man in the hood bends over her. He has a knife. It glows in the fire, candles all around, something stinks, why are there so many bad people? They all have hoods. Which one is Daddy?
They’re singing now, a song that doesn’t sound happy at all. She looks up to the other end of the rock, trying not to see the bad man. She sees the goat’s head, the ragged threads of the neck dripping blood. She screams.
“That’s it, Julia,” said Dr. Forrest. “Let it out. Don’t let the memory keep you chained anymore.”
Something hurts inside her belly, she’s crying but none of the bad people seem to notice, they just keep saying the scary words over and over.
Just the way she remembers it.
Just the way Dr. Forrest told her it happened.
And then the rest of it. She can’t breathe, why is Daddy letting them do this to her? This isn’t just a little game. Because games are fun, and this isn’t fun.
Now the bad man has a knife, holding it over his head. The knife flashes like the skull ring.
“What does he say?” Dr. Forrest asked.
“You know,” Julia murmured.
“Yes, I know, but you need to know. Say it out loud, and you’ll kill its magic. It will have no power over you.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know you’re scared, Julia. I know this is hard for you. But the only way to get better is to stare down your fears.” Dr. Forrest sounded as if she were near tears herself, voice harsh and choked.
Julia recited the words, imitating the chant of the hooded man:
“Highness of Darkness, Satan, Master of the World, accept this offering from your loyal and humble slaves, that you may continue to make us free. So mote it be.”
“And the rest of it,” Dr. Forrest said, excited.
They said in unison, the bad people, Julia, Dr. Forrest, all combined in one chilling voice, “Lord Master Satan, we offer you this blood in your cursed name, that you may smile upon us and bless us. That you may–”
Julia stopped, caught in the doorway, not sure if she were in the past or the present. She opened her eyes, Dr. Forrest loomed over her, hands holding hers, face rapt, eyes closed.
Dr. Forrest completed the chant. “–that you may take as your bride, this whore Judas Stone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Julia shivered, more frightened than she had ever been. She was on the precipice of a great gulf, it yawned out black and endless and inviting, a total madness.
“He cut you, didn’t he, Julia?”
Dr. Forrest was her only link to reality, the therapist’s grip the only thing preventing her from slipping into the abyss.
“He took your blood, and the eyes glowed.” Dr. Forrest seemed nearly as faraway and lost as Julia. Even with the warm sunshine breaking through the office window, with the mountains spread bright and golden outside, with the reality of the chair and the floor and ceiling and walls, all the solid things of the world seemed as if they were melting away, swirling down some hidden drain into oblivion.
“The skull ring. You remember,” Dr. Forrest said.
Julia couldn’t suck any oxygen into her lungs.
“He did it.”
Words like nails.
Julia stared into the therapist’s rigid, twisted face. Suddenly Dr. Forrest’s eyes snapped open, shining like candle fire, flickering.
“Say it, Julia. Don’t let him have this last victory.”
“He….”
“Say what he did.”
“He let them–”
Dr. Forrest’s lips curled in triumph. “Yes, he did. He had the power. All the power that Satan could offer. How could he resist?”
Julia jerked up from her chair, pulling free from Dr. Forrest. “He gave me to that Creep.”
Julia wrapped her arms around her chest, sobbing, her shoulders quive
ring. She collapsed back into the chair. She turned to look outside, to escape from the office, but the world was only a larger prison. Wherever she might flee, her mind would follow.
“I told you so,” Dr. Forrest said, calmed by Julia’s acceptance. “Now you know. Now we can deal with it.”
“No,” Julia sobbed. “It didn’t happen.”
“Julia, your denial has been holding you back.”
“Not him.”
“Julia, incest is common. So many of our sisters have suffered the same cruelty. And ritual abuse. Would you be surprised if I told you half of my female patients recover memories of Satanic masses?”
Half.
“I share your pain, Julia. I bleed with you.”
“You don’t understand,” Julia said.
“Of course I do. I’ve been here with you. I’ve….been there before you.”
Been there?
“I’m a survivor, Julia. Just as you will be.”
“Survivor?”
Dr. Forrest stood, unfastened the bottom two buttons on her blouse. She showed her belly, the raised welts purple against her pale flesh. On Dr. Forrest, the work had been completed, the pentagram fully etched, the horror plainly written onto the page of her body.
“You?” Julia didn’t know what to say. What use were words?
Dr. Forrest buttoned her blouse with quick, efficient movements. She smiled, but her eyes were distant, unfocused. Perhaps she was looking through the rooms of her own house, rummaging in secret cellars.
Julia glanced at the wall clock. Two hours had passed. She had given herself away, ripped open her skull and handed her brain to Dr. Forrest. And her spirit had slipped out through the wound, merged with the shadows and was lost.
“We can defeat it, Julia. Now we move forward.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Forrest. I’m sorry it happened to you.”
“Don’t be sorry. Sorrow is for the weak, the emotionally crippled, those who don’t seize what lies before them. We should strive for balance, Julia.”
Julia stared with wonder at the wise therapist’s face. Dr. Forrest had exposed herself, had opened up her own dark rooms, and now was as calm as if she had commented on the pansies in the window planter.
If this woman, who has endured terror beyond imagining, could become strong enough to help others, it’s time I stopped feeling sorry for myself.
Mystery Dance: Three Novels Page 48