He nods his head at the camera. “They’ll see this when I give them the video tomorrow.”
I massage my aching chest. “Did I say anything aloud to you by chance?”
He sighs heavily. “Unfortunately no, which I find strange, especially considering you’ve been sleep walking and talking so much at home. It’s like your mind opens up after the sessions.”
“Is that common?”
“It’s hard to say.” He removes his glasses and cleans them off with the bottom of his shirt. “This therapy—hypnotherapy as a lot call it—isn’t something performed that frequently. And your case is extremely complex.” He slides his glasses back on. “But, Ayden, if this doesn’t start working... I… there might be some other treatments you might consider trying… they’re a bit more experimental and have risks, though.”
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.