The Door at the Top of the Stairs (30 page)

Morgan nodded. “Maybe not, but it means a lot to me.” The sheriff started out the door, then turned back. “By the way, someone in town has been asking around about you, Jesse.

Any idea who that might be?”

Jesse raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. A man or woman?”

“A man. I haven’t seen him yet; I’ve just been hearing things.

Anyway, ladies.” He tipped his hat and walked out the door.

Morgan followed him out to his car, then returned to the kitchen rubbing her right fist. “I'd forgotten how much it hurts to punch somebody that many times." She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. “Well, considering it's five o'clock, we'd better get down and feed everybody." Jesse stood up to join her and the two of them walked back to the barn. Morgan stopped her before she stepped through the barn door. "Hey, you saved my animals and my farm. I'll be indebted to you for the rest of my life. Thank you."

Jesse hesitated. “After all you and Ryland have done for me, I think we can call it even." She turned and walked into the barn, and for the first time, actually felt like she was home.

Chapter Thirty

At dinner the next night, Ryland realized Jesse was moody and upset about something. Her answers were short and clipped, and she'd been trying to push Morgan into a fight all evening. Morgan hadn't taken the bait, and that served to make Jesse even more temperamental. They hadn't had a session that afternoon because of all the drama the previous morning, and Ryland wondered what was going on in Jesse's head.

"Something's bothering you, Jesse. What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

Ryland reached over and tapped the back of Jesse’s hand.

"'Nothing' sure has you upset. I'd like to know what it is."

Jesse gathered her dishes and took them to the sink. Washing dishes was something she actually enjoyed, and she plugged the drain and began to fill the sink with soapy water. The other two were finished with their meal, and she carried the rest of the dishes over and set them in the water.

Ryland turned her chair to face the sink. “Jesse, what is it?

Right now, you don't have the luxury to ignore your feelings and stuff them back in. Now, tell me—what's bothering you?"

Jesse began washing the dishes and rinsing them, placing them on the counter to await drying. “Why couldn't I see the scars? I see blood covering my face, and it's not really there, and I see un-scarred flesh where there are scars. Where else do I have scars that I don't know about, that the rest of the world can see? What kind of a freak
am
I?" She threw the sponge into the water and walked out the back door, down the porch stairs and out to the road. She wasn't sure where she was going, she just was.

The door pushed open behind her. Morgan walked up on her left, Ryland on her right. They walked in silence for about a quarter-mile, until Morgan said, “I'd really rather walk in the pasture; it's a hell of a lot prettier."

Jesse stopped, fuming. “I don't remember asking you to come along." She turned off the road and climbed the fence into one of Morgan's pastures, the other two following behind.

Morgan caught up and fell in beside her again. "I don't remember needing your permission to go for a walk." Ryland joined them and interlaced her fingers with Morgan's, deciding to take advantage of a beautiful stroll in the moonlight.

Jesse’s hands were stuffed deep in her pockets and she was kicking rocks in front of her as she went. "He whipped me, didn't he?"

Ryland shrugged. “I don't know. Did he?"

Jesse picked up a rock and threw it as far as she could. "You know."

"I wasn't there, Jesse. How could I know? Do you remember being whipped?"

"No."

"Then why do you say he whipped you?"

"Because there are lines on my back. I saw them last night.

And because of that second passage in the book. I don't know."

She picked up another rock and threw it.

Ryland noticed Jesse's face go red. "What is it, Jesse?"

Jesse shook her head and angled away from them. When they came up beside her, she stopped and shouted, “Why can't you leave me alone?"

Ryland reached up and put her free hand to Jesse's cheek.

"Jesse, there are no scars on your face that are hidden from you.

No blood, nothing. People can't see what happened to you."

Jesse jerked away from Ryland's hand and started walking again. After a minute, she stopped and turned so abruptly that the two women almost bumped into her. Her eyes locked onto Morgan's. “Where else do I have scars that I don't know about?

What do people see that I don't?"

Morgan shrugged. “The parts I can see—your face, your arms

—nothing."

Jesse stripped off her shirt and jeans and stood with her arms out from her body. "Where else, Morgan? I need to know."

A purple bruise covered Jesse's stomach and Ryland reached out and rubbed it with the back of her fingers. "Is that from when Cody kicked you yesterday?"

Jesse pushed Ryland's hand away. “That's not what I'm talking about. Where else, Morgan?" She stepped away from Ryland so Morgan could see better.

Morgan slowly walked around her, trying to find scars they didn't know about. "There are some scars on the back of your right leg similar to the ones on your back."

Jesse twisted around to see the back of her thigh. She reached back and felt the scars Morgan was talking about and nodded.

"Where else?"

"I don't see anymore."

"My face?" Jesse blushed a deep shade of crimson again.

"Nothing."

"Swear on your mother's soul."

Morgan bent down, picked up Jesse's clothes and handed them to her. "I can't swear on my sainted mother's soul with you standing there in your underwear."

Jesse's mouth quirked up a little as she pulled on her clothes.

When she'd dressed, she stepped in front of Morgan, who said, “I swear on my sainted mother's soul there are no scars on your face."

Jesse scowled. “Your mother wasn't a saint."

"How do you know?"

"She had you, didn't she? That's probably gonna keep her out of heaven, let alone sainthood." Jesse slipped around behind Ryland before Morgan could grab her. The three of them drifted back to the house, Ryland between the other two, trying to keep them from playfully punching each other as they walked.

The next day at one o'clock, Jesse stepped onto the house porch and waited. She put her hand up to knock, then lowered it again and sat in a wooden rocker near the door. The rocking mirrored what was happening in her mind, which was absolutely nothing. When she tried to think of the room, she drew a blank.

Morgan came up the path from the kennels and stepped onto the first step. "Ryland thinks we're close to being done. Maybe today won't be so bad."

The slow rocking continued, and Morgan walked up and opened the door. “C'mon, Jess."

Jesse stood up and walked inside. Ryland wasn't in the living room, so she went to the kitchen to see whether she was doing something in there.

Ryland came down the hall from the office. “I'm right here. I couldn't get off the phone. Let’s sit down." She arranged the furniture the way she always had it during the sessions. The coffee table was pushed sideways, Ryland's chair was where the table usually rested, and Jesse and Morgan sat on the couch. Everyone took their places, and Ryland put her hands around one knee and leaned back. "You haven't had many headaches the last two days have you?"

Jesse shook her head.

"Have you been awakened in the middle of the night by pain?"

"No."

"Nausea, cold sweats—anything?"

"No."

"What do you think of that?"

Jesse shrugged. “I think my brain's shutting down."

Ryland raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Very good. How did you figure that out?"

"Because my mind is blank. It's gone." Jesse's jaws clenched, concern written on her face.

Ryland studied her a minute. Unfortunately, she knew the pain would return ten-fold once they began opening more of the deeper memories today.

Jesse raised her eyes to Ryland's. “Maybe it's okay. Maybe just knowing he whipped me is all I need. I don't think I have to remember it—just know it happened, that's all."

"The problem with that, Jesse, is that the memories are there, buried, and we've been working for months now to chip away at your controls, to weaken them. Do you remember telling us sometimes your brain felt as though it was full of stones, ready to explode?"

"Yeah."

"Does it still feel that way?"

"It's...different."

"In what way?"

She shrugged. “Not always, but sometimes, it's more like a black pit. I don't know how to explain it."

"Just say what comes to your mind. If it's wrong, you'll know."

"Well, you remember I told you that guy you worked with, the guy from Vietnam, must have been terrified?"

Ryland nodded.

"It's...well, it's like the pit is full of terror...kind of boiling."

She hesitated. “No, that's not right." Boiling didn't explain what she saw, so she began spilling out words that described what was there. “Insane, incensed, demented, raging. It's all those things.

Shit, I'm not making sense." She stood up and went to the window.

"And you're trying to hold that in?"

"I have to hold it in."

"Come sit down, Jesse." Ryland waited until she sat. "Does the terror have a face?"

Jesse nodded.

"A human face?"

"No."

"Describe it."

Jesse blushed and looked away.

Ryland sat forward and put her hand on Jesse's leg. “Jesse, look at me a minute. You're going to have to listen and trust me on this one."

Jesse met Ryland's eyes and nodded slightly.

"There is no such thing as demon possession. There is no demon in your soul straining to break free. Do you know what that Terror Being is?"

Jesse shook her head.

"It's your very panicked subconscious pulling out all the stops to make sure you keep these last memories locked up." She sat back and leaned on the arm of her chair. "That's why just knowing it happened is not enough. You don't have a choice. You
have
to remember it, see it, and put it away where it belongs."

Jesse turned sideways, leaned her arm against the back of the couch and rested her head on her hand. She studied Morgan, who sat patiently and waited. Without looking away, she said, “If I let it out, I'll be dead. It's
that
black. It's what I see."

Ryland was pretty sure the flogging did almost kill her the first time. She guessed it was the way Richard had meant for her to die, but for some reason, she was sitting here in their living room, very much alive. Now was when she needed Jesse to believe in her own strength as well as Morgan's, because without the two combined, she didn't think Jesse would attempt to let the demon out. "You've been through a lot these last few months, and Morgan and I have been right here with you. Today, more than any other day, you have to believe Morgan can pull you back from the abyss, and you have to trust me that I know exactly what I'm doing."

Jesse held Morgan's eyes a very long time. "Can you do it?

Because I can't."

Morgan didn't answer immediately. She felt like Jesse was asking her to pull her from the gates of hell, and she didn't know how to do that.

"You're not sure, are you?"

Morgan looked away, then back into Jesse's eyes. “No, but I can promise you this: I'll go with you wherever you go, and I'll do everything in my power to bring you back. I give you my word on that."

Jesse listened and tried to ignore the fear telling her to run before it was too late. There couldn't have been a better answer.

Morgan was being completely honest, and she absolutely trusted Ryland.

"Damn." She eased to the edge of the couch. “Let's just get it over with."

Ryland had been waiting patiently, and she started right in before Jesse could change her mind. “Most of today, Jesse, will be on you. You need to let terror out of his pit. Release those last controls and let go."

Jesse choked back a paralyzing fear. "On me? What do you mean, on me? You've got to help me! I can't do it by myself!" It seemed as though there was a physical force drawing down on her heart, pulling on it until she was afraid it would detach and be sucked into the hole. "Ryland, I can't!"

Ryland had said what needed to be said, so she remained silent, waiting for Jesse to let go of the last controls she'd piled onto her conscious mind. Experience told her if she was patient enough, Jesse would bring the memories up on her own today.

"I can't do it, Ryland!" Her eyes jerked from Ryland to Morgan and back, hoping one of them would reach out and stop her, would realize that she couldn't release the demon.

Morgan wanted to stop Jesse, to protect her. Ryland was throwing the flood gates open, and she'd told her last night that when she'd done this with other patients, memories of the physical pain often came flooding out in giant waves. Morgan watched Jesse cross her arms and close up against Ryland. She sat back and made herself comfortable.

They sat quietly—five minutes, then ten—until Ryland saw what she'd been waiting for. Jesse shook her head and unconsciously glanced to her left. Ryland said, “Tell me."

Jesse's eyes came back to Ryland. She closed them and tried to catch what she'd just seen. When she opened them again, she said,

“It's gone. Nothing. Ryland, I can't do this by myself."

Ryland nodded and waited, still leaning back, hands clasped around one knee. The ticking of the grandfather clock sounded like a drum beating a steady rhythm into the silence.

Shadows clouded Jesse's mind. The demon clawed at her, straining against the chain that held him captive in the dark. Fear paralyzed her, and she knew she'd be Richard's prisoner the rest of her life if she couldn't face the festering memories that were locked so deep within her soul. She closed her eyes and forced herself to look into the pit.

Black spun in a vortex, dragging her in. Her heart convulsed and she jerked herself back and wrenched open her eyes, grunting with the effort it took to free herself. "I can't do this, Ryland! It's pulling me in! I thought it was supposed to come out. I
can't
go in!" She stood up, ready to run if she had to get away from Ryland's answer.