You, Dad, you’re just thinking about your career and, Mom, you always so worried about fighting for some cause and your high-society friends. What about me? What about your daughter? You ruin everything for me and somehow this is for me? How is this for my good? I can’t believe how self-centered you both are. You didn’t even think about how this would affect my life. It’s always about you! You are the most selfish parents in the world!”
“Abi, please...” my mom pleaded as she tried to take my hand. I pulled it away.
“Such hypocrites! I can’t wait till I’m eighteen so I can live my own life. I’ll be rid of you then! I hate you! I hate you!” It ripped my insides to hear the last words I spoke to the two people who I love and who loved me the most that I couldn’t say again, not now. I couldn’t repeat those words aloud even knowing this was just a memory.
I stared at that scene for a long as I could while my body seemed to float in a nebulous haze of memories between this and the crashing plane. Maybe by my own will, my mind started to float back towards the time of the crash, sucked back into the body plummeting to the ground.
My tears formed into little icicles. My vision blurred. My fingers no longer felt anything but I didn’t care. I couldn’t live one more moment knowing those were the last words I said to my father and my mother. I heard the faint voice of the doctor one more time. “Abigail, come back to me. Abigail Montserrat, come back to me. You will awake...four... at the count of one you will wake up refreshed as if from a good night’s sleep...three...you will not remember what you saw today...two...one...you are awake!”
I woke on the couch in the office to see Dr. McGrath sitting on the chair right next to me. My uncle was sitting on a stool close by me, visibly shaken by whatever he saw or heard. I was drained of energy. My palms were wet. My eyes were sore from crying and my throat was completely parched.
“I... could I have a glass of water please?” I asked in a rasping, halting voice.
“Sure.” The doctor got up and left the room.
“Welcome back, kiddo,” Uncle Jake said while wiping tears from his eyes.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Progress! If you keep this up, you will be able to remember everything in no time,” Dr. McGrath said as she handed me the glass. I drank some water, thinking they would discuss what I said and what “progress” we made. But both were quiet.
My uncle seemed excited but at the same time apprehensive. I wanted to stand from the couch but he said to take a few more minutes to get reoriented with my body. “What did you find out?” I asked.
“I need to review the recording before I can make any proper assessment but it was a definite progress. You did very well,” Dr. McGrath said, smiling.
My uncle regarded me for a minute, convinced I was now steady on my feet, and said, “Will you wait for me at the car? I need to pay Dr. McGrath and get you your next appointment.”
“Okay, see you there. Thank you, Dr. McGrath,” I said.
“You’re welcome. Vanessa, please. I have a feeling we will be good friends.” She smiled at me with those perfect teeth and took the glass from me.
I surprised myself as to how much I detested the idea but I couldn’t show that. I nodded and shakily I worked my way back to the foyer. I didn’t know what compelled me to stay but I decided to hang back and listen in on their conversation.
“Jake, I can replay the recording for you again but it seems like she is saying, “Mom, Dad, let go, I’m sorry?” There must be something more about the fight but she has blocked it so completely that we can’t get to that memory. She won’t even let herself repeat it. Whatever it was, she sounded remorseful for whatever she did to them during the flight. Listen, the fight with her parents can be very damning if it is heard in court. People may not understand it from her point of view. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but she looks guilty based on these findings.”
“Dr. McGrath, I’m happy we made a leap in recovering her memory today, but you’re absolutely correct. If I could ask you to please hold on that recording as a favor, until we know for sure. We don’t have the full picture. Even if we can assume they were on the plane, we still don’t really know what happened after. Not to mention the legal system really frowns upon memory retrieved through hypnosis. I’m afraid it will just be fodder for the tabloids.”
“Of course. I understand,” Dr. McGrath said. “But we should continue since she seems to be reacting well to the process.”
‘Reacting well’ is an understatement. I can still feel the hate those spiteful words carried and the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing how they brought tears to my mother’s eyes. Even if I wasn’t guilty of murder, I deserve punishment for what I did. But I can not tell anyone. It will be a secret I need to keep for the rest of my life.
“I think you should let me work with Abi more. Maybe we can get a better picture of what happened if she recalls more memories,” Dr. McGrath said. I decided I’d heard enough. I tiptoed back down the foyer, out the door, and went to the car. I didn’t hear what my uncle’s response was, but I guessed he agreed.
Uncle Jake got back into the car without saying a word. He pulled out of the driveway and drove into the open road. I could tell he was thinking hard because the knuckles of his hands were white on the steering wheel and his eyes were far too focused on the road.
“Uncle Jake, what was that box?” I asked tentatively.
When he answered me, he spoke in an even serious tone, “I’m not supposed to let you know until you turn eighteen, but the Trust only has one thing in it: that box. Of course, since you are the only heir and if they are dead, the house and money will go to you. But the Trust was made specifically to ensure that you get that box.”
I turned to my uncle and without thinking, pulled on his right arm. “What the... Why would they leave me a box? Where’s the key?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t have a key. At least I didn’t get one. Look, they didn’t explain. But whatever is in that box, the Trifama is also after it. So be careful.”
“Trifama? Who, the mob? Do you think they had my parents—”
“Let’s not speculate about things we don’t know,” he said sternly.
We drove home in silence but my mind cried out for explanations.
CHAPTER 4
Down Memory Lane
My sessions with Dr. McGrath have become a daily appointment since that day at her house. It had also been moved to her downtown office that, by coincidence, was located across the street from Thurgood Prep. Knowing what she said to my uncle Jake, it was hard for me to regain my initial trust of her. Looking back at the last three weeks, I must comment that her techniques gained me a lot of memories I thought were completely lost. However, I learned quickly that those same memories can be harmful to me. In the interest of self-preservation, I started hiding things from her. I started a literal journal, except it was getting harder and harder to hide the growing list of secrets I was keeping. The stress of the conflict took its toll and our relationship went from uncomfortable to downright prickly.
My distrust deepened starting with our session two weeks ago...August 2nd.
“What do you mean by you see shimmers around people?” the doctor asked.
“I see shimmering colors around some people. Some are very faint but some so bright, it blinds me,” I said although my mind was suffused with the strong, sweet smell of that white sampaguita flower.
She stared at me for a minute and asked, “Do you see one on me now?”
“No, no I don’t,” I responded truthfully. What I didn’t add was the fact I noticed she only had the shimmers when she was not wearing her green necklace. For some reason, I thought I should keep that to myself.
“What about your friends?” Do you see shimmers or halos around them?”
“I... have not had contact with my friends. I ju
st don’t think it’s a good idea for me to hang around with them right now.”
Something about the way she was asking about the shimmers bothered me but the session ended uneventfully.
As I stood to go, I asked, “Dr., what perfume do you use?”
“I don’t use anything. It’s a personal rule of mine. You never know what certain scents can a trigger in a patient.”
“Oh! But...” I started to argue but refrained from it and said, “Have a good day!” instead. As I was closing her office door, I heard her starting to review her recording of the session. Without thinking, I ducked behind a plant right outside her office and listened.
After fast forwarding to certain sections of the recording, she got to the end and pressed Record.
“Abigail is making progress in gaining her memory of the night but not enough. Still unable to recover any clues to what happened to her parents and where their bodies could be hidden. However, the patient is reporting shimmers around people and certain olfactory observations. She has also exhibited fainting spells in the past. These are known to be symptoms of schizophrenic tendencies combined with epilepsy seizures.”
I couldn’t bear to hear anymore and left. I made a mental note not to tell her anymore to add to her list of evidence that I was becoming unhinged.
After that session, I decided that I needed to guard what I say to her. I needed her to believe I was just as normal as the next seventeen-year-old kid; no more halos, no more scents of strange flowers, no more strange things; just a plain old self-conscious teenage angst over the first day of school starting, too embarrassed to see my ex-BF, don’t know if my friends will still accept me.
But she changed our focus during the next appointments. She was adamant we try to open the box. I had to admit, I was intrigued by the idea because I wanted to find out my parents’ legacy. But there was a catch. She will also know.
I will not be fooled into telling her anything anymore. Every time I go into these sessions I tell myself that I will learn what I need to know but she will not get anything out of me. It’s already August 9th. I just have two more weeks before school starts. Maybe I can use that as an excuse to stop seeing her, I thought.
She had the box on the top of the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Abi, why don’t you sit on the couch, make yourself comfortable,” she said.
I sat down. The box was right in front of me. I looked at the box, but not too closely. I blacked out the last time I stared at this box. I still remember when I first met the doctor at her house. I also remember that it triggered the most dreadful memories.
“Look, can we do this some other time? I don’t think I’m ready,” I said.
Despite my distrust of her, I believed she was right about the box. But there was a sinister darkness about it that I didn’t want to be part of. Never mind the headaches from seeing the slithering snake-like woodcarvings and the writhing letters that made my head swim and my stomach turn.
“Abi, we need to get to the bottom of things. You can not keep running from this,” she said.
“I don’t think I can do this. I mean, I fainted the last time, remember?” I said, anger brewing just beneath the surface.
“Abi...”
I could still hear her voice but as if she had suddenly moved to another room. The smell of the flower filled my senses. Her muffled voice only served to put me in a suggestible state.
I tried to resist looking at the box.
Yet it called to me. I felt its draw; I felt the air focus itself and the energy around me condense and beckon me towards the box. I paused, gave the ominous black box a guarded side glance, and rushed out of the room before any of the carvings could start to move.
“Abi! Come back! Come back!” I heard the doctor’s voice behind me. I slammed the door, bent over, and took several gasps of air.
“...the subject is exhibiting delusional tendencies. She continues to see things from common objects, describing writhing and slithering of static wooden carvings. She has also left the session severely agitated showing profound distress and paranoia...” the doctor’s voice trailed off as I ran out to the open air.
I woke up with a splitting headache. I tried to look around but a strange and eerie bright light blinded me. It was shining in and around the plane. It was preventing me from seeing much of anything but the gush of wind to my side told me that the plane’s emergency door was open. I felt the bag had fallen down in between my feet. Without thinking, I pressed it with both my ankles to secure it from moving around.
I thought maybe we landed at the airport but I noticed that the plane was still airborne and leaning angled slightly towards the ground.
“Dad! Dad! Mom!” I tried to shout but nothing came out of my mouth. Maybe I was still asleep and dreaming. But no. I knew was awake. I saw three figures in dark hooded robes outside the door. One entered the cabin and put sacks over my parents’ heads. I tried to scream to wake them but they weren’t moving. The men left the cabin and I could have sworn they floated outside the cabin door. Then the limp and lifeless bodies of my mom and dad floated out of the cabin following them.
“No! No!” Still nothing. No sound.
I was completely paralyzed. Then, they put a sack over my head. I tried to struggle but to no avail. I felt the whoosh of air as my body floated past the cabin door into the darkened sky. By some lucky coincidence, the plane banked right, touching my feet, which had not cleared the plane completely. Somehow, the touch was enough to free my body from the invisible bind. I reached out to my mom’s body still floating ahead of mine.
“Mom! Dad! Don’t let go!” But I couldn’t reach her. The light was blinding me. I closed my eyes tight to adjust to the light but in the short moment, they were both gone. I opened my eyes and there was just darkness.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
The only company I had was the palpable realization I was floating outside the plane without a parachute. The plane continued its arch and I had no choice but to accelerate my decent to move away from the pilotless mass of steel, praying and hoping against all hope to survive.
I began to hyperventilate. Then the voice behind my head said, “Abigail Montserrat, calm yourself. You are safe. This is just a memory.” But I couldn’t calm myself. I was plummeting. The voice returned again, more forceful now. “Abigail Montserrat, listen to my voice, you will awake in three, two...”
I rose from the sofa gasping for air. I saw it all. I know what happened. But she must not know. I had a vague recollection of coming in for my session and sitting at the sofa, other than that, I didn’t know what else happened.
“You fainted,” the doctor said and handed me a glass of water.
“Oh, I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry about that,” I said while holding the iced glass against my forehead to cool off. I took a few sips of water. As I did so, I couldn’t dispel the suffocating aroma of that white flower, Sampaguita. I placed the glass on the coffee table and noticed the box was there. A small spark of anger erupted within me. She used the box to put me under. I know for certain I did not give her permission to do that. It didn’t matter that I didn’t recall how she did it. I knew she tried to invade my innermost thoughts without my permission. The distrust intensified even more.
As before, I hid behind the overgrown ficus plant in the waiting area of her office to spy on her. She immediately replayed the recording of the session. I heard the grunting and thrashing as I tried to speak under hypnosis but I soon realized that when I was unable to speak in the memory, I also couldn’t in real life. Only after I was out of the bind did the words came out.
When she heard, “Mom! Dad! Don’t let go! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she pressed the recorder stop button and stared at the recorder for a few minutes. She picked it up and threw it across the room in frustration. I left feeling safer knowing I did not rev
eal my biggest secret yet.
What was not in that recording is that someone did save me from my free fall to certain death; three men in hooded robes. I saw them, floating in the air, plucking me out of the darkness and gently laying me down on the foot of a tree. Why save me? I have no explanation. To divulge this knowledge to the doctor or the police would just confirm what they already believe: that I either had them killed or I worked with their assassins for my own gain.
CHAPTER 5
Welcome
To The First Day Of School
August twenty-third was the first day of school. That day was also my birthday. I’d been trying to decide whether I would keep my sessions with the doctor or not. I decided it would depend on what I learned in that day’s session.
I got there early, hoping for an early session so I would be on time for the first day of school and maybe celebrate my birthday with my uncle that evening. I was waiting at the empty reception area when the door of her office opened and a man with silver hair emerged from within. He was still speaking with her as he walked out the door.
“Please let us know as soon as possible. We are very interested in those memories. I can’t express enough the gravity of the situation. And, don’t lose the box,” he said.
I know he didn’t mention my name but I had a strong hunch it was about me. I quickly hid behind the ficus tree beside the couch.
“Of course, Simon. I wouldn’t think of letting the Trifama down,” Dr. McGrath answered from within her office.
With that, he left the office. I came out of my hiding place and tried to decide whether I should leave or go through with the session.
The Trifama knows Dr. McGrath? And what is it exactly they think I know? What is in that box? For that matter, why not just take the box?
The Obsidian Crown of the Lost Dominion Page 3