Unlocked

by Margo Kelly

  “How?”

  “For starters, a shower and clean clothes will help refresh you.”

  “No way. The shower seems to be a favorite haunting place for the malevolent spirits.” I closed my eyes and buried my face in my knees. “I can’t get into a shower.”

  “Don’t make me force you,” a man’s deep voice said.

  I jerked my head up and yanked away from Plug.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “A shower and clean clothes will help refresh you.”

  I rubbed my face. It wasn’t Plug’s voice that had threatened me.

  “Hannah,” Plug said, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  He rose and extended a hand down to me. I accepted it and stood.

  “I’ll change,” I said.

  I opened a dresser drawer and found underwear and socks. Another drawer had folded jeans and shorts. I checked the sizes. Kyla and I were nearly the same. My fingers hovered over the shorts. I was tired of wearing so many layers in this stifling summer heat, but I grabbed a pair of jeans instead.

  Plug lifted out a couple of shirts from the closet, and I chose one. He hung the other one back up.

  “Out,” I said and pointed to the door.

  “I’ll be in the hall if you need me,” he said.

  The back of Kyla’s door had a full-length mirror. I dropped everything, leaned in, and pressed my forehead to the mirror.

  A knock on the door startled me, and I shrieked.

  “It’s just me,” Plug said.

  I opened the door, and Plug gave me a paper grocery sack.

  “For your dirty clothes and shoes. We shouldn’t leave them here.”

  I took the sack, closed the door, and then scrutinized my unkempt appearance in the mirror.

  “No visitors during your first forty-eight hours,” a man’s voice said behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around. I saw from the reflection that I was alone in the room.

  “You can do this,” I whispered to myself.

  I focused on my features. Plug had said green eyes belonged to strong, courageous women. If he was right, I could do this. I could manage my own thoughts. My hair was greasy at the roots, darkness circled my eyes, and dirt lurked beneath my fingernails. I yanked the zipper of the hoodie, pulled the fabric off my shoulders, and dropped it to the floor. I reached behind me, unfastened the bra, and slipped it off. I shoved the bra and hoodie into the sack. I angled away from the mirror and kept my mind focused on the next task. I pulled the pink shirt over my head, kicked off the tennis shoes, and unzipped my jeans.

  Deep breath.

  I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the yoga pants and tugged them off at the same time with the jeans. I shoved them into the paper sack and caught a glimpse in the mirror.

  “Everything goes in the bag,” the deep voice said.

  “I’m alone.” I chewed on my lip. The voices had to be the freaking spirits taunting me. I did not want to be their plaything anymore. I would not let them win.

  Don’t cry.

  Don’t look in the mirror.

  Don’t be weak.

  I still remembered the hairy hands of the hypnotist on my body and the reflection in my bathroom mirror at home. I hadn’t been naked since then.

  I fought the panic and faced the wall. I tugged off my socks and shoved them into the bag. I rubbed my eyelids to block the images flooding my mind.

  The hypnotist had been in my bedroom. He showed me the naked sculpture in the art book. His bulky fingers wedged the tiger-eye stone into the gutter of the book, marking the page. His voice compared the sculpture to my body . . . but not mine . . . he called me Beth. He traced the line of muscles from my shoulders to my waist—just as he had with Rodin’s sculpture in the art book. Heat spread throughout my body. I wanted to scream, but the cadence of the hypnotist’s voice told me to relax and feel peace. The thoughts were contradictory. My mind gave in to him when I wanted to fight back and defend myself. A moan escaped his lips while I screamed inside. His laughter reverberated off the walls. I clawed at his hands and dug my nails into his flesh.

  “Stop!” I yelled.

  Plug pounded the door. “I’m coming in!” he yelled, but I had wedged myself against the door, lost in my own horror. He shoved the door and pushed me backward with it.

  “Hannah!” Plug reached around to me. He pushed more and had enough space to squeeze through. He snatched the lavender comforter from Kyla’s bed and draped it around me. And then he rocked me in his arms.

  “I remembered.”

  “What?” he asked.

  I grabbed the paper sack and threw up.

  Plug plucked a clean sock off the floor and wiped my lips.

  “I remembered what happened Tuesday—the video we were about to watch with Kyla and Nick. I remembered what happened.”

  Plug stroked my head.

  A tear slipped down my cheek. “He’s changed me, forever.”

  “Don’t accept the version he’s created. You can reclaim yourself. Or reinvent yourself.”

  “I hope so.” I let Plug hold me for a few more minutes in silence. The clean fragrance from Kyla’s comforter masked my body odor. I breathed deeply and considered our next move.

  “If we go to the police,” I said, “they’ll admit me for psychiatric evaluation.”

  “Yup,” Plug said.

  “If we go to my mom—”

  “Same thing. She’s bought what Dr. James is selling.”

  “We can’t go back to the tattoo studio.”

  “The police are probably watching it,” Plug said.

  “We could search Chelsea’s apartment,” I said.

  “She should still be at school.”

  “We could find evidence against Harrison,” I said.

  “What if he’s there?”

  “We lure him away first.” I said. “Let’s finish here and be ready to leave, but turn my phone back on and wait for him to call. He’s called how many times already today? He’ll call again. He’ll ask me where I am. I’ll tell him, and he’ll come here for me. But we’ll be gone.”

  “No.” Plug got to his feet. “A million things could go wrong with that plan.”

  “What’s the worst that will happen?” I asked. “He tells me to do something I don’t want to do. If that happens, end the call and remove the cell’s battery.”

  “And how am I supposed to get you out of the trance if I hang up on the hypnotist?”

  “You’ve heard him multiple times—how he counts backward to pull me out.”

  “It’s not something an average Joe can just mess with,” Plug said. “There’s the tone of voice, the rhythm, the word choices, the pauses—”

  “You can do it.”

  “No, Hannah,” Plug said. “You’ve seen me pick locks. Does that make you capable of doing the same thing? Watching is not learning the intricacies of the skill.” He leaned in closer to me. “I could screw up your mind.”

  “It’s already screwed up.” I smiled, but he frowned. “You might not even need to do anything. But we need solid evidence against him.” I clutched the comforter around my neck and stood next to him. “Please, Plug, help me do this.”

  He pressed his forehead to mine. “How much time do you need to get ready?”

  “Two minutes.”

  “Okay.” He wrapped his arms around me, and I never wanted him to let go. But he did, and he stepped out into the hall. I left the door ajar and threw the comforter back on Kyla’s bed. I glared at the clean bra.

  “You can do this, Hannah O’Leary,” I said. “Master Gira will not win.”

  I fastened the bra around me and slipped the straps over my shoulders. I stepped into the underwear and pulled it up. I reached for the jeans but paused. I had to do more than just stand up to the hypnotist. I needed to defeat him. In order to do that, I had to make my own choices.

  I moved to the dresser and selected Kyla’s cut
est pair of plaid shorts and stepped into them. I chose a different top from her closet, a sleeveless pale green blouse with a fringed collar. I slipped my feet into a pair of rhinestone flip-flops and swung the door open.

  Plug’s eyes widened.

  “I’m not done, yet.” I walked down the hall to the bathroom and rummaged through the drawers for a washcloth. I wiped my face and my armpits, found some deodorant and used that, too. I even brushed out my hair and pulled it back into a fresh ponytail. Not perfect, but at least I smelled better.

  “Now I’m ready,” I said to Plug in the hallway.

  “Yes, you are,” he said. We walked down the stairs and paused in front of the ornate display case. Plug lifted my hand, and on my palm he wrote Kyla’s street address. “So you can tell the hypnotist where you are.”

  We peeked out the windows for any sign of police, but spotted no one.

  Plug snapped the battery back into my phone and turned it on.

  “I’ll be in the garage, but if you need me, yell,” Plug said. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to tell him you’re alone. If he doesn’t call within fifteen minutes, we’re leaving anyhow. I don’t know how the GPS tracking works, and I don’t want to be trapped here if the cops show up again.”

  “Agreed.” But we didn’t have to wait. The phone rang before we reached the kitchen.

  “It’s him,” Plug said. “Convince yourself that you’re alone.”

  “Got it.” My heart beat faster. He gave me the phone. Then he stepped into the garage and left me by myself in the kitchen.

  • • •

  Plug threw me over his shoulder, and I beat my fists against his back.

  “Put me down!” I tore at his shirt and scratched at his skin.

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” Plug said and hauled me from the kitchen to the garage. I screamed louder and kicked harder. Plug set me down next to Kyla’s Mini Cooper and covered my mouth.

  “Stop, Hannah.”

  I kicked him in the shin and bit his hand. He pinned me alongside Kyla’s car.

  “Hannah!” He glanced away, but kept his grip on my mouth. When he faced me, his lip was bleeding. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “but I’ll gag and tie you if I have to.”

  He removed his hand, and I let out a little hiss. His body weight pressed against mine, and his forehead was coated with perspiration. Plug reached behind me, and then he shifted my stance with his legs so he could open the car door.

  “Get in,” he said.

  “I can’t leave,” I said.

  “Get in the car!”

  He pushed me toward the seat, but I clutched the frame and braced myself.

  “Please, Hannah. If you’ve ever trusted me, do this, now.”

  My chest tightened. “I don’t trust you. Leave without me.” My gaze darted around the garage and toward the interior door to the house. I had to get past Plug. He was stronger than me, but I needed to stay at Kyla’s house. I needed to wait . . . for something.

  Plug cupped my face. I twisted my head away from him.

  “Hannah, you’re stronger than this. Have faith in yourself. Trust yourself and fight him.”

  “Who?” I jerked my head back in the other direction, but Plug kept his hands on my cheeks.

  “The hypnotist. Use your mind. Act for yourself. What is the last thing you remember?”

  My thoughts were jumbled. I couldn’t remember. Why did Plug throw me over his shoulder? I went back further. Upstairs. I had changed my clothes.

  “We walked down the staircase. My phone rang”—I gasped and let go of the car. Plug stepped back and gave me space. “Oh no. What happened? I can’t remember anything the hypnotist said.”

  “He told you to stay here and wait for him.” Plug’s hands found mine. “He left you in the trance. I tried to wake you up from it, but nothing I said worked. I don’t know how to unlock your mind, Hannah. I need your help. You’ve been fighting me for the past ten minutes. We have to get out of here. He will show up any second. Please, Hannah, get in the car and let me walk around to the driver’s side.”

  I sat down, but instinct told me to jump and run. I waited for Plug to sit in the driver’s seat. He started the engine and pushed the button on the garage door opener that was clipped to the visor. Plug watched in the rearview mirror as the garage door rolled up, and I bolted from the car. I ran for the house door and slammed it behind me. I flipped the lock and paced the kitchen.

  Plug pounded on the door.

  Then he stopped.

  Everything was quiet, and I froze. I was a fool. Plug was an expert at picking locks. He threw the door open and lunged toward me. I ran for the stairs, but he tackled me at the base.

  “Hannah, I don’t want to hurt you, but we can’t stay here. That man has sunk his claws deep into your mind.” He loosened his grasp on me, and I rolled over to face him. A tear ran down his face, and blood trailed down his chin. “Please, Hannah, I love you. But I need you to fight this guy. He told you not to trust your friends. He told you to wait here for him. He left you in a hypnotic trance. I don’t know how to get you to wake up. Please let me take you away before he gets here. I can’t stand the idea of him touching you. It rips out my insides. Wake up, Hannah. Use the guided imagery Rose taught us. Take back your mind. Please, Hannah.”

  My stomach twisted. Every fiber of my body told me to distrust Plug. But that was absurd. Plug had been by my side throughout this horrible journey. He’d never hurt me. But what if I was wrong? What if my feelings toward Plug weren’t real? Maybe my attraction to him was merely a planted suggestion. How was I supposed to tell the difference?

  “I’m so confused,” I whispered.

  Plug caressed my cheek. “That’s a step in the right direction. Fight, Hannah, fight for your own free will.”

  “Yes, Hannah,” a deep voice said, “fight for your own free will. That will be entertaining.”

  The voice wasn’t a demon or my imagination this time.

  Master Gira—John Harrison—stood behind Plug.

  My heart beat in my throat, and I struggled to take a breath. This couldn’t be happening. I had been unsure in the hotel lounge, but now I knew beyond any doubt this was the same man I’d met on the stage at the fair.

  “Go to your safe place in your mind,” Plug whispered. Then he hopped up and positioned himself between me and the hypnotist.

  Harrison puffed out his chest. The same glimmer in his eyes. The same bushy eyebrows. The same hands. I gagged and twisted to the side to wretch, but produced only dry heaves. The sour flavor of bile still filled my mouth. Pressure throbbed inside my ears.

  Plug’s feet moved. He shifted his weight to his back leg and kicked with his front. He landed a blow to Harrison’s chest and smashed him into the display case. Broken glass flew everywhere and clattered against the wall. Harrison snatched a large shard and flung it at Plug. It sliced Plug’s wrist as he tried to dodge out of the way. Harrison leaped and swung with another piece of glass, but Plug blocked him with his forearm. Plug struck Harrison in the neck, sending him down. Harrison tried to shake it off and lift himself up, but he slipped on glass and fell back to the floor.

  Plug glanced at me and pulled out his phone.

  “Plug!” I shot forward to help, but I was too slow. Harrison came at Plug on his blind side, his swollen eye useless. Harrison clubbed Plug with a bronze sculpture from the display case. Plug collapsed, his phone cast aside. Harrison hammered his skull over and over.

  “No!” I grabbed Harrison’s arm, but he flung me away like a waif.

  Plug lay limp on the floor. Blood glistened along his hairline and oozed onto the beige carpet. I reached for the phone—the display showed that he’d dialed 9-1- before he dropped it. Harrison stepped on my hand. The rubber tread of his powder-blue sneakers pressed my fingers deep into the soft fibers of the carpet. He picked up the phone and shattered it against the wall.

  “Welcome to my Mystical Madness!” Harrison swung his arm wide
and dropped the sculpture. It whacked my bare knee and thudded to the floor.

  Harrison reached down and clutched my wrist. I yanked away, but he was stronger. He locked eyes with me and hauled me to my feet. His jeans brushed my exposed legs.

  “Who seems foolish now?” he asked.

  My chin quivered. I squinted and tried to think, but the room was spinning. The lights grew brighter, and my ears buzzed.

  Harrison pushed me against the wall. He still held my wrist with one hand, and with the other he stroked my naked arm. Goose bumps erupted along my skin. I focused on the blacks of his pupils. I had to get away from him. I tried to shrug out from beneath his grip, but he slammed me back to the wall and wedged his forearm against my throat.

  “You said you were alone.” His rancid cigarette breath hit me in the face.

  “I. Was.” Each word hurt as he pushed harder. I strained my eyes to get a glimpse of Plug. He hadn’t moved. The puddle of blood on the carpet had grown. Shapes and silhouettes crept along the base of the wall. They grew and began to churn near him.

  “Plug!”

  “He’s dead,” Harrison said.

  Harrison stroked my face. Those large, hairy hands that I’d feared in my delusions touched me. I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, but I had to save myself, and I needed to get help for Plug.

  I gasped for a breath and then choked out more words. “Why. Are you. Doing this?”

  Harrison drew his fingertip along my lips. “You should still be in a hypnotic state from our phone conversation.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

  “I never. Did anything. To you.”

  Darkness swirled at the edges of my vision. I closed my eyes and struggled for air. Harrison caressed my eyelids, and I jerked them open. The sun must have gone behind a cloud, because the house grew darker. I pushed against Harrison with all my might, and I dug my fingernails into the side of his face. But then he wrenched my arm behind my back.

  “You are my greatest victory,” he said. “I’ve achieved more with you than I ever dreamed possible. I’ve stirred your inner conflicts and heightened your emotions.” He pressed his body against mine. “You know . . . you look like your mother did back in New Jersey. The same jawline. The same lips.” He drew the tip of his nose along my cheek and inhaled deeply.