“It was you. You’re the substitute that helped me that day Kyle stabbed Brandon in Madame Primm’s classroom. You helped calm everyone down. I’ve never seen you at school before that day. What were you doing there anyway, Mr…?”
“Evans. And it’s Dr. actually. Dr. Richard Evans. I was at your school, young lady, giving a presentation on Forensics Psychology. I was on my way out when I heard the commotion and offered my services. I think it’s best that we talk inside.”
Dr. Evans steps back from the door, giving us plenty of room to enter the small log cabin. As I walk in, my eyes immediately go to the quaint fireplace that dominates the large room that makes up the one story cabin. There are no walls to separate rooms, just furniture laid out in such a fashion that it makes the room seem like it’s in sections. There’s no TV, just a few very comfy chairs and a large brown leather couch that make up the living room. To the right of the makeshift living room is the small dining table with only two chairs and a small kitchen beside that. Dr. Evans has all top-notch appliances in the small kitchen, but it’s apparent he doesn’t need much in the way of material possessions. I walk further into the cabin and make my way to the couch. That’s when I see it. A large table pushed back to the far wall. It’s filled with all sorts of papers spread out, books of all different sizes open to various pages. It looks a lot like a mad scientist lab, but without the chemistry stuff.
I sit down on the couch and put my hands under my legs. Even with gloves on, you can’t be too careful. Seconds later, I move a bit to the right as Brett sits down next to me. He leaves plenty of room between us, so there’s little chance of touching, but I’m still very wary of him.
Dr. Evans sits down on the oversized brown leather seat adjacent to the couch and places his book on the small table next to the chair. I notice there’s a half-empty wine glass next to a lamp on the table. No pictures of family, no knick-knacks to commemorate life. Nothing but empty space all around. It’s unnerving, and a little bit creepy.
Dr. Evans settles into his chair like older people do: he crosses his legs and places his hands upon his knees. If that isn’t a therapist’s position, I don’t know what is. I know that firsthand from a short stint in therapy, a time long before I realized I was cursed, rather than insane. Dr. Evans clears his throat, a clear sign he is ready for us to begin. His blue eyes study mine, his stare intense and focused, like he can see my every thought and intention shine out through my blue orbs. Again, I’m hit with a creepy vibe.
“So, Ms. Richardson, I assume you’re here because you’ve lost your friends to insanity and you’re unable to separate them from their delusions. Am I warm?”
Nope, freaking hot.
He remembered my name. Moreover, somewhere along the way, learned my last name as well as schooled himself on what’s been going on in my school. Nope, not creepy at all. To my right, Brett’s all kinds of edgy. He’s tapping his foot on the hardwood floor and biting his nails. Clearly, he’s uncomfortable being around Dr. Evans so I decide to move on with the conversation in the hopes that it gets us out of here as fast as possible.
“Yes, sir. That’s actually exactly what’s happening. But I’m confused as to how you know what’s going on? Other than the incident with Kyle, I haven’t seen you around at all when students have gone delusional.”
“I’m a psychiatrist who specializes in forensic pathology my dear. The police have already contacted me to consult, and I’ve seen every case file they have on the people currently calling the Anchor Mental Hospital home. You’d be surprised how many friends I have, Ms. Richardson,” says Evans, looking pointedly at Brett.
What is their deal anyway? Why is Brett so uncomfortable around this guy? More to the point, what does Evans have on Brett that makes him so nervous? Though I’d really like answers to the mystery of this odd relationship, I simply don’t have time to care.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re up to date, 'cause that saves us time. This nervous wreck beside me says that you can help. I sure hope you can because I’ve tried and failed twice. I just don’t know what else to do. But I’m willing to do anything to get my friends back.”
Dr. Evans looks at me fixedly as he plays with the mustache dominating his round face. His hands are calm as they caress his facial hair, his eyes doing their best to decide if I’m worthy of helping. After a bit, he sighs and uncrosses his legs. He scoots up in his chair as he places his elbows on his knees in a serious stance. As he moves closer to me, I slink back into the cushions of the couch, doing my best to put as much distance as I can between us. A psychiatrist has to have heard some seriously messed up crap over the years and I don’t need any more of that in my head. Evans takes a deep breath as he interlocks his fingers. Whatever he’s going to say, it can’t be good.
“Are you sure, Aimee? Are you truly ready to do anything to save your friends? Even if it means losing yourself in the process? I know everything, including what you can do. If we go through with this, it will most certainly change you. And in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”
Cryptic much, dude? Wow, this guy just keeps getting creepier. I’m not sure exactly what he means by losing myself, but the fact is I’m lost anyway without Mary, Logan and Dejana. I can’t live without them. Or more to the point, I don’t want to. I’ve lived the life of someone alone and scared for sixteen years. I’ve had enough.
“Yes, I’m ready to do whatever it takes to give them back their sanity. Even if it means losing mine in the process.”
Smiling, Dr. Evans leans back in his seat and nods approvingly. “Then we’d better get started.” He hops out of his seat and walks to the table filled with books and papers.
I sit there, stunned, as the air returns to my lungs. I had no idea I was even holding my breath until Dr. Evans agreed to help us. I feel lighter than I have in days, my heart hopeful that this psychiatrist is the answer to all of my problems.
Evans walks quickly over to the table and begins to rummage through the papers and books, looking for something. Brett and I look on as he madly searches for whatever, both of us wondering what in the world he’s searching for. Finally, we hear an “ah ha” confirming that he’d found it. He saunters back over to his oversized leather chair and plops down into it. He opens the book and flips through it, searching for a specific page. Dang, I’m holding my breath again.
Finally, he finds the page and reads aloud to us. “Freud believed that the manifest content of a dream, or the actual imagery and events of the dream, serve to disguise the latent content, or the unconscious wishes, of the dreamer. The mind subconsciously tries to reorganize elements to enable us to comprehend what we envisioned. But, in the case of your friends, these thoughts or visions forced them into comas because their minds couldn’t understand what they were seeing. They weren’t repressed ideas or emotional displacements. They were horrific, evil visions forced upon their normal psyche, rendering it incapable of evaluating them.”
Brett and I share a look of confusion. “Um, what?” I ask, feeling stupid. This information is clearly above my pay grade.
Evans answers, not even looking up from his book. “Your friends and your adopted mother carry memories that don’t belong to them. Memories that are so horrific, their brains can’t process them, so it shuts down. The answer is simple: those memories have to be removed. And soon, before any permanent damage is done.”
“Well, that’s great and all, Dr. Evans, but therein lies the problem. I have no idea how to remove them.”
“Ah,” he responds, clearly not put off by this huge feat. “It’s a simple enough thing to do with training my dear. Your gift should allow you not only to absorb the unwanted memories, but rescind them so they can be eliminated.”
Again, I’m flabbergasted; I freaking hate surprises. How in the hell does this old man know about my curse? I guess my curse isn’t as secret as I had hoped. And he must not completely understand it or he would never have called it a gift.
“Okay. Putting
aside how casually you just mentioned my curse, as if it’s as commonplace as leftovers, all the while not batting an eye I might add, how can I take specific memories and eliminate them? All I’ve ever been able to do is copy them, know what that person knows. I’ve never been able to take those memories from them so that they aren’t in their head anymore. That’s impossible. And furthermore, how the hell do you know about how all of this curse stuff works?”
“My knowledge of your gift will be explained in due time. Have patience, my dear. What I can tell you, is that impossible is merely a starting point. I know it can be done. But you’ll need to practice first. And I’ll need to teach you some things. I’ll warn you though, it won’t be easy.”
I sigh, more to myself than for anyone else to hear. “Nothing ever is, sir.”
Chapter Fifteen
~ Hard Doesn’t Even Begin To Cover It ~
The drive home from the cabin is quiet. Neither Brett nor I speak, both of us caught up in our own thoughts. Before leaving, Dr. Evans told us when and where to meet in the morning. School is all but forgotten. If there are any more violent episodes, I don’t hear about them. Since Brett agreed to go with me tomorrow to meet Dr. Evans, I assume he doesn’t want to return to school either. Though he’s done essentially helping me, he doesn’t feel the need to return any more than I do. Dejana and Logan are his friends too.
Though Brett is visibly less agitated than he was at the cabin, his pensive mood tells me that something is still bothering him. Even though I’m grateful for his help, I’m scared to death of what’s to come. How in the world am I going to ever be able to do what Dr. Evans says needs to be done to heal everyone? It was hard enough facing those images in their minds. Actively pulling them out and trying to do something with them seems so impossible, I can’t even think of where to begin.
I wish Logan were here. He’d take my hand so I wouldn’t be alone in this, and he’d tell me I could do it, and I would believe him. My resolve returns as I think of Logan, my desperation driving me to succeed. I need him and Dejana back for the purely selfish reason that I don’t want to live alone anymore.
After Brett drops me off at my dark, cold house, I spend the night tossing and turning. It’s ironic how the silence bothers me now, when only a few short months ago I reveled in it. I finally stop trying to sleep sometime before dawn, and get showered and dressed, so that I’m ready when Brett comes to pick me up. For some stupid reason, he feels he has to drive me everywhere I go. Since Evans agreed with him on some silly premise that I shouldn’t drive after our practice session, I didn’t fight it.
Brett arrives on time at seven a.m. I climb into his truck and am surprised to find he’s brought me my favorite breakfast: a steak biscuit and sweet tea. How in the world does he know what I like to eat? I start to ask him, but then discard the notion. He must have heard it from Logan. I thank him shyly and devour the biscuit, starving since I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. After a short ride, I find myself back at the place that scares the hell out of me: Anchor Hospital.
As we enter the hospital, Dr. Evans is waiting for us, white lab coat and patient file in hand, ready to train—whatever that means. The stark white walls still give me the creeps, and that familiar old lady from the first time I came here is manning the entrance to the ward. I smile and wave at her, just to be annoying, and she grimaces back at me.
Dr. Evans leads us through the main doors with his code, reminding me that he works with the patients here. He leads us down a few corridors, but not as far into the web like maze as I had gone on my first visit here. We stop at room 205, which houses a woman named Julia Dunfey. I peek inside the little window and see a beautiful blonde haired girl, a teenager like us, lying on the bed, still as a statue. Her hair is brushed so that it fans out on the pillow and her nails are painted bright pink. The sheet is perfectly fitted around her and there are flowers all over her room. It’s clear she is well taken care of and very loved.
“Shouldn’t we come back another time, Doctor? She’s sleeping now and I don’t want to disturb her,” I point out.
Dr. Evans just laughs, a joke I’m not privy to apparently. “She isn’t asleep, my dear. She’s in a coma. Four months ago, she was in a car accident. She hit her head after being ejected from the car and had to have brain surgery to relieve the swelling. She’s been in a coma ever since. The family believes she will come out of it, but her doctors feel…differently. This is who you’re going to practice on, Aimee. This young lady was involved in a horrific crash that took the life of not only her boyfriend, but her best friend as well. When the police found the vehicle all occupants were dead, save her.”
Stunned, I’m not sure at first what to say or why in the world Dr. Evans would want me to try to take away memories of those she loved. The last memories she has of her boyfriend and her best friend alive and happy. Then the confusion clears, and I understand with frightening clarity why he chose her. “She was driving the car, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was. Now, it’s up to you to make her forget that part. Help her remember the time before the crash. Let her savor the moments of fun as they rode down the street in a convertible Mercedes, happy and without a care in the world. Begin elimination with the memory of the text that came in just before the crash. This was the text she was answering before she swerved to avoid the median, and in doing so, ran off the road, only to stare down a thirty-foot cliff.” Dr. Evan’s pauses to take a breath before continuing, the recounting of this poor girl’s last moments clearly disturb him. “She caused great pain and suffering with one mistake. She wasn’t evil, she wasn’t even inconsiderate, she simply made a horrible decision. With that mistake, comes true horror. It’s up to you to erase it. It’s not just practice for you, it’s also the only way this young lady will ever be able to live with herself when she wakes up. Forgiveness is hard enough when faced with another person’s mistake. When faced with forgiving yourself, the path to salvation tends to curve and end at self-destruction.”
Wow. Way to start me off easy, Doc. I stand beside Julia’s hospital bed, feeling sorry for the hardships this beautiful girl lying comatose in front of me will face. It only took seconds for her life and others to be destroyed. My hands shake and my mouth is dry. I remove the glove from my right hand, but make no move closer to Julia. I look at Dr. Evans for guidance; his brown eyes are sympathetic and comforting as he observes me. He hasn’t yet explained how I’m to eliminate those memories, yet he stands there staring at me as if I already know. What’s he waiting for?
“So, Doc, once I get in there, how am I supposed to pull the memory out?”
“My research thus far has revealed that when a person is unconscious, you should be able to not only experience their memory, but interact with them. Is that the case, Ms. Richardson?”
I swallow hard, visions of Dejana and Logan, happy and healthy, but beyond my reach, swim in my tear filled eyes. “Yes,” I respond, my voice cracking.
“Excellent. What you must do is insert yourself inside Julia’s memory. In essence, you must become Julia as the memory progresses. From there, you experience them first hand, and in doing so, take the memory into yourself permanently.”
“But how is that possible when up until now, all I can do is experience the memory? You can’t change them, that’s impossible. They already happened.”
“True. But memories that envelop you after you touch a person are simply echoes of what came before. The true memory still resides within the person you touched. Theoretically, if you were to become Julia seconds before the crash, then you would own her memory and be able to take it with you. Owning the memory is the easy part. Taking it with you is the real challenge.”
“So basically, touching them in real time sends me into their memories. Once in there, I have to touch them again to eliminate it. That doesn't seem too hard.”
Dr. Evans snickers. “Entering the memory is not the hard part, Aimee, it's leaving. Memories you absorbed from conscio
us people are as I said before, weak echoes. The real ones remain inside the person’s head. Experiencing a memory while in the mind of that person is more potent and infinitely stronger. There's a great danger of losing yourself. If you can't hold onto yourself and your purpose while experiencing the memory, then you could end up just like her, in a coma, believing the memory you experienced was real. If you are to return to us as Aimee, you have to release yourself from the memory and touch her while still within its grasps. Though after you touch her, it’s anybody’s guess as to what might happen.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” I mumble remembering what happened when I touched the crazy girl in Logan’s memory.
“What was that?” asks Dr. Evans.
“Nothing,” I say, unwilling to explain what happened in Logan’s memory to a virtual stranger. Two actually, if you count Brett. “I’m not going to ask how you know all of this, Doc. Because honestly, as long as it helps me get the people I love back to me, I’m willing to wait for you to explain. But you better not be playing me,” I say, the anger at the situation coming out in my words. “Or I’ll find both of you one night in your sleep, and every secret you’ve ever had will be mine to do what I want with.”
Evans and Brett share a pointed look, but neither says a word as the threat lies stale in the air between them. Brett stands there idly with his hands in his pockets, a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation. Evans simply folds his hands in front of him as he holds Julia’s medical file in his grasp. His face is a mask, no emotion whatsoever. That must be the first thing they teach you in psychiatrist school.
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