Unraveling You 02 Raveling You (19 page)

My brows furrow. “What kinds of experimental treatments?”

He pushes his feet against the floor, wheeling his chair back toward a printer. Then he collects a thin stack of papers and hands them to me.

“Shock treatment.” Words jump out at me from the pages. Ice cold water. Injections. Electricity.

“They’re risky procedures,” he explains, looking as though he doesn’t really want to be discussing this with me. “I honestly don’t believe it’s a great idea, but I want to give you the choice. I think that’s important. Just like I know it’s important to you to find out who killed your brother.” When I don’t respond, he sighs. “You can throw them away if you want to. I just want you to be informed. Since you’re still a minor, though, I can’t do anything without your parents’ consent, so you’ll have to talk to your parents.”

“I’ll be eighteen in a couple of weeks,” I tell him, even though I want to throw the papers away.

Some of the treatments are appalling. But as I think of my brother lying dead in his own blood outside that home that stripped us bare, I fold the papers up and stand up to leave.

“I better go. It’s getting late.”

“Ayden,” he calls out. I pause, twisting around. “Remember, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. Even when it’s not a session, you can always call me.”

I bob my head up and down then exit the office, pretending his words don’t affect me as much as they do. But the fact that I have people in my life who care about me still gets to me and makes me feel warm and cold inside. Warm, because it’s amazing to have people in your life rooting for you. And cold, because it’s terrifying having people in your life, putting themselves in harm’s way to help you.

My thoughts drift to my brother who probably had no one in his life. Who died all by himself.

“Why were you there?” I whisper to myself as I enter the crisp night. The moon is crescent in the dusky sky and a haze conceals most of the stars. “Was it because they had you against your will?”

A depressing thought occurs to me. I might never get the answer to those questions. I might never know what happened to my brother.

But I can still find out about my sister.  If I can find her.

On my way to the car, I check my email on my phone, hoping there’s a message from Rebel Tonic. Almost three weeks later and still no word from him, I’ve pretty much lost hope that he’ll ever get back to me. More than likely he played me, and like a sucker, I fell for it.

No new messages so I stuff the phone away and speed up across the vacant parking lot. The sole lamppost that usually lights up the area has burnt out so I can scarcely make out the outline of my black Mercedes. As I find my way through the dark and approach the vehicle, I pat my pocket for my keys but can’t find them. Wondering if I left them in the building, I flip around to head back inside. Mid turn I notice something in the trees lining the property. Movement? A figure moving? I can’t quite tell.

I dodge to the right and skitter for the door. It has to be a dog or something. No need to get paranoid. With everything that’s happened over the last couple of months, my mind’s just playing tricks on me.

Then I hear a bloodcurdling scream reverberate from nearby.

Fuck, dogs don’t scream.

Freezing, I scan the trees, the closed stores across the street, and the office building, but I can’t see anyone or anything around. I jog for the door, my boots thumping against the pavement. As I reach the curb, I hear another scream. This time the noise fractures my heart into a thousand pieces.

This time I recognize the scream.

“Sadie?” I frenziedly whirl around again. Branches snap and leaves rustle. I fumble for my phone as I inch toward the tree line, prepared to dial nine-one-one if needed. “Sadie, are you in there?” I call out as the tips of my boots reach the border of where the parking lot shifts to a shallow forest. I squint through the darkness, but it’s pitch black. Too fucking dark.

Darkness settles

a heavy quilt

suffocating.

I can’t breathe.

Whisper the words,

They say

Whisper them and we’ll free you.

Whisper.

Whisper.

Whisper,

that you worship us.

Belong to us.

That you’ll do anything for us.

We’re coming back for you.

I swipe my finger to unlock my phone and illuminate the screen. Then I aim the light toward the forest.  A screech echoes from amongst the thick leaves then a figure zips from the trees at me. I stumble back, clumsily drop the phone, and darkness smothers me.

Find the fucking phone.

Footsteps rush around in soft pitter-patters.

I collapse to my knees.

Find the fucking phone.

“Ayden, Ayden, Ayden,” a low chant echoes around me. “You think we’d let you get away that easy?”

Ayden, Ayden, Ayden,

do you hear us calling your name?

Feel the cuffs around your wrists.

We own you now, Ayden,

there’s no getting out, even when you leave these walls.

Ayden, Ayden, Ayden,

Do you see what we can do?

Do you see the blood that stains the ground?

If you leave, we’ll come after you.

“Ayden, Ayden, Ayden.” Whispers mix with the wind. “We have her. Your sister. And we’re coming for you.”

“It’s just your imagination.” I cover my hands with my ears. “You’re just remembering again. Nothing is happening… Nothing… There’s nothing out there.”

I feel a tug on my hair, strands getting ripped out, then nothing. With a deep breath, I lift open my eyelids. Nothing but darkness and trees and I lower my hands from my ears.

“Ayden.” A voice slams up from behind me.

I stagger to my feet and spin around, only to find Dr. Gardingdale standing there with shock frozen on his face. “Where did you…” I reel back around. The area is silent. The trees still. As if nothing happened.  “I don’t…” My mind races a million miles a minute.

What the hell just happened?

Did I just imagine it?

Or was it real?

They said they’re coming back for you, like they did when you were pulled out of that house. Is this it? Are they returning to me? But then, why taunt me instead of taking me? Why scare me, rip out a chunk of my hair, and break into my house to take my knife? Is this part of the ritual? And what is the ritual for?

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he surveys the parking lot then the forest. “Did you see something out there?”

I face him and shift my weight so the trees are in my peripheral vision. Then I give the doctor a recap of what I think I just saw, trying to explain to him the best that I can.

“It could have been a homeless person or some kids messing around.” He scratches his balding head as he stares at the trees and shrubbery. “Both have caused commotions around here before.”

“But they said my name.” I lower myself onto the curb and drop my head in my hands. “Or at least I think they did… Maybe that was just part of the surfacing memory. Maybe the amnesia therapy was delayed or something.” I grip the back of my neck. “I don’t know though.. I thought they pulled my hair. And it actually hurts right now.”

“Pulled your hair?” A pucker forms at his brow. “I think we should at least report the incident to the police, just to be on the cautious side.” He sits down on the curb next to me. “I wish you’d have told me how bad the memories were—that you were having a hard time grasping reality while they are happening.”

“It’s never been that bad before.” I raise my head and stare out at the cars on the road ahead of us.

“It might be wise if I prescribe you something,” he suggests. “Just until you get a better grappling with remembering.”

“I’m not taking drugs,” I reply in a clipped tone. But after seeing my mother turn into a monster when she was doped up, I made a vow never to use drugs of any kind.

“It’s just a mild sedative that you can take if you have another episode.” He pushes to his feet and cautiously moves toward the trees. “You don’t have to take it all the time, only when needed.” He bends over and scoops something up before returning to me. “Let’s go inside so we can report this.” He hands me the object he picked up—my phone. “Then we’ll call Lila.”

I follow him back inside his office, take a seat in the chair, and listen to him recount what happened to the police. Everything that “allegedly” or “possibly” happened. I agree with him to an extent. I’m not positive of what was real after I heard the scream.

The sound could have easily triggered a nerve and sent me to the most vivid places in my mind. Places I never knew existed. But then again, it could be the same person who broke into my house.

One thing I am sure of. I know what I heard. That scream rang familiar to my sister Sadie’s. I know her scream well. Heard it day in and day out while we were locked up.

As I wait for Dr. Gardingdale to finish the police call, I check my email again. The screen is cracked from dropping it onto the asphalt, and I have to press each button at least five times just to get online. I open the browser and hold my breath as I scroll through the messages. My heart stops when I reach the fifth line down in my inbox. A message from Rebel Tonic. I open it, praying that he’s been able to find her.

Sorry it took me so long to get this to you. For some reason there was no record of a Sadie Stephorson in the social service’s records. I did manage to track an address through her school records, but it took a long time since there are so many districts. The last place she was listed living at was 40499 Faring Lake Ave. Street in San Diego. Hope that helps and good luck.

P.S. Remember to delete this message from your email when you’re finished.

I do a map search on the Internet for the address. It’s fairly close to where I am now, on the route home if I take the long way.

I do exactly as he instructed. After I type the address in the note section of the phone, I delete the email. Then I wait very impatiently for the doctor to finish up his call.

After he chats with the police, he calls my parents to update them on what happened. When he hangs up, I receive a text message.

Lila: Ayden, Dr. Gardingdale is going to walk you to your car. Lock the doors and drive straight home. And if you see anything that’s suspicious, call me.

I’m getting ready to put the phone away when another text comes through.

Lila: Better yet, just stay there. I’ll have Ethan come get u.

Me: I’ll be fine. It’s a ten minute drive.

Lila: Just check the backseat, okay? Sometimes people can hide back there.

Me: You’ve been watching too many horror movies.

Lila: Maybe so, but u still need to.

Me: Okay.

I close up my phone then the doctor walks me to my car, telling me that the police will probably be in touch with me sometime tomorrow after they’ve done some investigating around the area. He waits near the curb as I check the backseat, climb in, and turn on the engine. Then he starts for the door as I drive out of the parking lot and onto the nearly vacant street.

My fingers thrum restlessly as I steer past stores, houses, and gas stations. The closer I get to the address the more jittery I become.

Ten minutes later, I near the location of the address. I’m not positive what I’m even going to do when I arrive. Knock on the door? I wasn’t even supposed to take the detour let alone leave the vehicle. And it feels wrong to put myself into danger by getting out of the car at night in some strange area. I should just drive by then maybe return during daylight. Perhaps bring Lyric with me.