As they struggled, Sarah heard Ben’s voice, impossibly calm.
Driven by passion and madness. Just as Zola said.
In her shock, she looked over at Ben standing there motionless. The voice had been in her head.
Or were his lips moving?
Seizing the opportunity, Dr. Robin grabbed her by the throat and rolled on top of her; her face red with frenzy. She banged Sarah’s head against the ground and Sarah saw stars. The doctor’s weight pressed down, and she felt her consciousness giving way as the grip around her throat tightened.
Just as she shut her eyes, a gunshot exploded—and the world went silent.
The doctor’s fingers loosened, and her body slumped across Sarah’s chest.
Sarah screamed; the sound muffled under the ringing in her ears.
“Police!”
The shout had come from the driveway. Sarah writhed under the doctor’s limp body, trying to free herself from its horrible weight. Ben stood above her, he put his hands up, letting a Swiss Army knife fall from his fingers. He had stabbed Dr. Robin to save Sarah.
“I trusted her; I thought she was helping me and helping you, I really did,” Ben said to Sarah.
Sarah felt sorry for him. He had been just as lost as she had been.
He backed away, his breath ragged. The police approached cautiously, their shouts barely intelligible. Sarah turned to see Dr. Robin lying unconscious next to her. The face that had once calmed Sarah, now a terrifying mask.
In the flashing blue-and-red lights of the police cruiser, Sarah caught a glimpse of another figure running toward them: a woman, someone she knew.
The noise and lights overwhelmed her, and she collapsed. In the closing darkness, she saw her husband smiling at her. The cold air blew harder on her face, and the weight on her chest lifted; she was running to meet him.
Eric. I’m coming.
She opened her eyes.
She had to blink a few times to focus her vision. The walls were white, bare, and cold; the air was metallic and smelled like cleanser. Where was she? White, bare—let it not be Dr. Robin’s office, she pleaded silently, feeling her stomach cramp.
She tried to sit up and a pain dug into her shoulder. She slumped back in the bed.
She was in bed? What bed?
She closed her eyes. Perhaps she was dreaming. Then she felt a sharp ache in her side and clenched her teeth. No, this was real.
She felt someone touch her arm gently.
“Sarah, just rest.” The voice was kind. “It’s all over.”
She opened her eyes and looked to one side. Laura was there.
Sarah looked around again. The bed had a metal frame; there were wires and monitors nearby. Hospital.
She lay back down, relieved. But—where was Ben? The image of Dr. Robin’s lifeless body shot into her mind and she winced.
Laura spoke again. “I saw him, Sarah,” she said. “With you that day by the reservoir. I pretended not to, but I saw that you were happy, and I thought you would tell me when you were ready.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “It was so heartbreaking after Eric died. No one knew what to say or do. I’m sorry.”
Sarah tried to smile at her, still confused. “Dr.—” she began. “Is she dead?”
“No, but it’s over,” Laura continued. “They are with the police. I told them everything I knew. They realized Ben had lied about knowing you. I didn’t say anything about him earlier, but then I read about the missing woman and saw his picture—I’m so sorry, Sarah. I should have been a better friend. I tried calling you last night and so did Frank. But we couldn’t find you. I had a hunch we should come here with the police.”
“Ben—Lawrence—” Sarah’s voice faltered.
“The police are dealing with it—he won’t hurt you anymore,” Laura said quietly. “Frank told the police about the surveillance video from that bookstore. You were right, Sarah.”
Sarah’s eyes welled up. She was vindicated—but at what cost?
“Just rest now, Sarah. Everything’s going to be all right.”
There was a stirring in the room. Behind Laura she saw Eric. He was smiling at her, pride mingled with sadness in his eyes. She smiled back, seeing Laura’s face light up in response. Eric reached for her hand, and she reached for his. When Laura took it, it was his fingers she felt.
Sarah closed her eyes.
EPILOGUE
FIFTEEN MONTHS LATER
Winter had descended. The icy snow dusted the park, and the tree outside her window was covered in white. In just a few months, the magnolia tree would be in bloom, its delicate yet strong flowers already budding, white-and-pink, silk-smooth petals sprouting from branches that now seemed dead. She, too, knew it was time to begin again.
It was all she could do.
Crisp air, bright sunshine, a light dusting of snow alongside the road upstate: it was the perfect winter day for a drive to the country. But for Sarah, it wasn’t so simple.
She felt right about the sale of the house, but it wasn’t going to be easy. She would miss the trees, the pond, the swans with their mysterious, placid lives. She thought of the things that she would collect from the house that day: baby shoes, locks of hair, little prizes and medals, photos and artwork. Mementos of their lives there, keepsakes for her children to have someday. Jason and Darcy would have their own opportunity to collect the things they loved that had fostered their early lives; for now, she would take the things she knew she wanted to hold onto herself. Above all, she would give away Eric’s clothes and shoes; those reminders she had kept for too long.
The drive was difficult for other reasons, too. Her body remembered the road, the time she’d been here last. A few times she started breathing heavily, her arms and legs losing strength as she drove. She felt the familiar urge to get out and run in the opposite direction, to disappear. But times were different now, and in those moments she focused on her breathing, reminding herself that she and her demons were on better terms these days.
“Breathe in, breathe out,” she repeated to herself. The world’s first mantra as Dr. Benz liked to say.
It had taken her a long time to find a new therapist after all she had gone through. It was hard for her to trust anybody. She had finally found Dr. Benz after trying several other doctors. She had felt the most secure when she stepped into his office, it had a calming aura. If he’d set out to make his office an environment completely the opposite of Dr. Robin’s, he couldn’t have done better. It felt lived in, warm and personal, like a favorite sweater. The furniture was done in tasteful patterns and antique leather; pictures and books lined the walls. Dr. Benz was equally personable, and though they didn’t talk much about his life, he was never reticent to discuss it: late fifties, two kids and a golden retriever. Having learned these details, Sarah rarely asked him for more; knowing he was open to sharing was enough.
Dr. Robin and her past had always been a mystery. Sarah learned from the newspapers that Helena Robin had been an orphan as well and then gone from foster home to foster home and was adopted by a psychiatrist who Sarah felt certain had experimented on Helena as a child. Orphans were the best subjects, she would say, because they were the most vulnerable. Sarah was saddened by all of it, but technically she wasn’t an orphan herself. Her father, although he had abandoned her, was still alive. And after all that had happened, he reached out to her after reading the story in the paper. He explained to Sarah that he had tried seeing her during all of those years, but her grandparents wouldn’t allow it, so he stopped trying. Sarah was taking it slow with him, but she did forgive him and was open to the possibility of having him in her life again.
Dr. Benz agreed that it could help her deal with her past. He also seemed enthusiastic about her idea to sell the country house. Her motivations were the right ones, he said, and he felt it would help to bring her a sense of closure. He had put her visions of Eric into context, too, and even kept the word delusions out of his explanations. The condition, which he referred to
by the much more neutral-sounding name of Post-Bereavement Hallucinatory Experiences, was not at all unusual among people who had lost a loved one. It was generally understood that seeing and hearing such spectral entities helped people cope with losses they couldn’t otherwise handle. In Sarah’s case, the sense of loss, and the hallucinatory experiences that accompanied it, were essentially the same thing, but much more markedly pronounced. It was possible she would experience some form of PBHE for the rest of her life, he admitted—but with work such occurrences would never again control her or confuse her.
On her way up, without any purpose, Sarah stopped at the hardware store, McNally’s. Despite her sadness at selling the country house and the horrible things that had led her to this point, it was soothing for her to visit this place again.
She entered the store and wandered through as she always had. Inside, the store was warm and organized; new things could be created here. An inspiration struck her: she would plant new flowers on the grounds before the place was sold. Not just reminders, but renewals.
Among the potted plants she saw a star-shaped flower with long, dark-purple petals accentuated by many yellow stamens. The clerk smiled approvingly as she placed it on the counter.
“Nice choice,” he observed. “Clematis is such a beautiful flower. Keep it inside until the snow has melted. It’s a climbing vine—it likes to grow upwards, looking for the sun. Monarch butterflies love the leaves, too.”
“Monarchs,” said Sarah quietly, remembering the butterflies that had visited them every autumn on their way to warmer fields for the winter. “I love butterflies.”
“Beauty and transformation,” the clerk smiled. “Don’t eat the plant yourself—it can kill you.”
Sarah laughed, thinking of the other things that could have done that recently. “I won’t. I promise.”
“So many beautiful things are poisonous, aren’t they? You have dangerous taste.” The clerk gave her a wink.
“I’ve heard that before,” she smiled back at him.
She’d paid for the flowers and was on her way out the door when the clerk called to her.
“I almost forgot,” he said. “We just got some new Swiss Army knives, if you want to have a look?”
She stopped in her tracks.
“Swiss Army knives?” she asked.
He nodded.
“No,” she replied quickly. “Thanks, though.”
She headed back out to the car. Opening up the back, she placed the potted flower gently in one of the empty boxes she’d put in the backseat. She bent down to slide the box over and noticed a book on the floor beneath the passenger seat. It was Thérèse Raquin.
She smiled, not sure what to think about Thérèse. Was she villain or victim? It was impossible for Sarah to answer simply after everything that had happened; with minds like hers and Thérèse’s, perhaps those terms didn’t quite apply.
In any case, it was time for a new book.
NOTES, DR. AARON BENZ
Patient: Sarah Rock
Sarah was rather serene today. She has been proactive with her treatment and exercise and looks much happier than when we began. Her memories of the night of the incident are still fuzzy, but that’s understandable enough. Her nightmares have lessened, though she seems to be having fewer dreams altogether these days.
I am encouraged by her positivity; she seems to be adjusting well to the new state of things. She has considered putting her family’s country home on the market, which seems to me to be a step in the right direction. And her father has come back into her life, possibly healing some of the past pain.
She is still seeing things. I see progress with the hallucinations, especially in telling me about them, but there is still work to be done.
She has planned a trip to Europe with her children—to Florence. She looks forward to sharing aspects of her life with them that she hasn’t before: her time in Florence seems to be particularly symbolic of that for her.
Back in the city, Sarah left her building to go for a jog in the cold winter air. Having missed running while she was in recovery, she’d decided to train for the marathon, and it had become a ritual for her. Dr. Benz had encouraged the new passion. Besides, it allowed her to imbue the park with new associations completely her own. Together with her weekly meditation evenings at the yoga center, she was turning over a new leaf. Coming to the park with a purpose was different; even Jason and Darcy had noticed the change in her. Frank had, in his own chaotic way, become a bigger part of Sarah’s life. Some Friday nights, he showed up for dinner with the kids; it was a surprise and it gave her some comfort.
She had discovered the city in a new light. The avenue bustled with people, and she didn’t feel as alone as she once had. She explored new areas of the city, even venturing out to the waterfront in Brooklyn. Not far from her building, she saw a young woman on the corner. A jolt went through her as they recognized each other. The woman walked up to her, eager but visibly nervous.
“Juliette,” Sarah said softly. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“I’ve been trying to—” Juliette broke off, her dark, beautiful eyes apologetic. She smiled. “You look better,” she said.
“I am. Thank you.” Sarah took a deep breath. “Juliette, I’m sorry—about everything.”
The words seemed to release a floodgate in the other woman. “It was hard at first,” Juliette said, her eyes going to the ground. “I felt guilty. You weren’t wrong—I did fall in love with him. I even told him so.” Juliette’s brows knitted. “But he loved you so much—he wouldn’t have ever done anything to hurt you. I envied that—I envied you, and your perfect life.” She was tearing up. “It was wrong of me.”
Sarah was stunned. “It’s all right,” she said, tears coming to her eyes, too.
“He talked about you all the time,” continued the younger woman.
Sarah’s heart caught in her throat. “I loved him so much,” she whispered.
Juliette nodded. “I know you did. He knew it, too. You should know—” Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “The night before he died, he told me he’d found another job for me. He said he needed to work on the marriage and couldn’t work with me if I felt the way I did. It wasn’t fair to you.”
She burst into tears. Sarah would never have thought she could feel kinship with this woman.
“Thank you,” said Sarah. “Thank you for telling me. We’ve made mistakes, both of us—I’m sorry, too.”
They held each other in the street for a long moment, ignoring the passersby.
“I never had the courage to tell you,” Juliette admitted.
“I think it’s time we both moved on,” Sarah said, wiping tears from her eyes.
They said their goodbyes, and to her surprise it was bittersweet—another part of her past that she was letting go of.
Sarah ran on.
She passed by the playground area, contenting herself with a look inside. No more visits there. Running toward the reservoir, she picked up speed, feeling her heart beat fast, the heat building in her body. It was hard and good, and she pushed herself a bit farther than she had last time, feeling the rhythm in her feet.
After a full loop, she stopped to stretch. A younger man, fit and attractive, smiled at her from across the path where he’d slowed to check her out. Sarah smiled back at him.
“Hey, Sarah!” a woman’s voice called to her. She turned to see Laura running toward her. “Hey—sorry to keep you waiting,” Laura said.
“I already did a loop,” Sarah said. “I’m way ahead.”
Laura watched as the man and Sarah nodded to each other.
“Look at you!” she teased.
Sarah smiled mischievously. “You mean you can see him, too?”
Laura laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said, looking after the man. “He’s very real. You got time for a full run today?”
“Maybe,” Sarah said. “I’m dealing with the country house.”
“That’s right,” Laur
a said, her voice growing serious. “You okay?”
“It’s time.” Sarah smiled sadly. “I’ve got a lot of great memories there—but there are a few I wouldn’t mind letting go of, too.”
“That’s an understatement,” Laura sighed. “How about the kids?”
“They understand. They’re glad we’re all moving on. I am feeling better about them being away at school,” Sarah said.
“I’m glad,” Laura agreed. “It sounds like the right thing at the right time for you.”
Sarah nodded. “I think it is,” she said. “You ready to go?”
They ran off together, chatting as they fell into stride.
Around the next bend, behind a tree, Sarah glimpsed a man and she felt faint. The blood drained from her face, and her running slowed down as she caught her breath. The man looked just like Lawrence. But it couldn’t be, could it? She closed her eyes briefly and shook the image away. From time to time, she wondered what had happened to him and his children and if he had ever finished the novel he said he was writing. Laura was still chatting, thankfully oblivious to what was going on in Sarah’s mind.
Sarah opened her eyes and quickly scanned the tree that now stood lonely in the winter wind. She would have to mention it to Dr. Benz. She kept on running, the steady pounding of her feet on the icy path bringing her back to the present. No more Thérèse. The journey ahead was still long and winding, but from now on, she would look within and live her own life. She took a deep breath and exhaled like a fire-breathing dragon, filling the cold air with smoke.
Dr. Robin’s Journal Entry
It has been a few months since I arrived at the psychiatric ward. My lawyer is still getting calls from networks that want to do a movie. He believes that I have a chance at an appeal, but I’m not interested. I told him not to rush.
Being here, amongst hundreds of subjects, many who are like Sarah or worse, has been a true blessing. There is one particular patient, Katie, who reminds me of Sarah. Katie is petite and soft-spoken. She suffers from a multitude of disorders. Delusional disorder being just one of them. Katie is here for killing her husband. She has convinced herself that he never existed. I have watched her as she flirts with one of the guards, Daniel. He is handsome and seems more sensitive than the others. She is convinced he’s in love with her. I have to allow her to believe that it’s true. I have had two sessions with Katie. So far, she trusts me.
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