Название: Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird
Автор: Josephine Cox
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9780007515301
isbn:
The psychiatrist started to pace around the small room as he outlined his thoughts. ‘It’s early days yet, and we must not get ahead of ourselves. By the same token, we also need to consider every possibility if we’re to help rid you of these distressing images. Now, let us suppose that a traumatic event really did happen to you, in your early infancy – that, as I am beginning to suspect, your nightmares are not a figment of the imagin ation, but result from an actual experience.’
‘What?! How can that be?’ Jack could not accept such a shocking idea. ‘It’s too awful! If something like that had actually happened to me, I would remember it, surely?’
‘Not if you were a small child. Not if the shock was too traumatic for you to cope with. I understand your anxiety, Jack, and as I mentioned before, I could be wrong, so now, let’s take time to clearly analyse the facts as we have them.’
Unlike Jack, he was convinced that he had hit on a shocking truth. ‘Firstly, you described the images, which appear to be consistent in every case. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘In each and every case, you’re trapped and afraid. Eyes are watching you. Someone is there – you can sense their presence. You desperately need to get out of that place, but you are physically unable to do it – am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, maybe the reason you can’t get out is because you’re too small and helpless.’
‘We don’t know that! I mean – I didn’t feel like a small child.’
‘But you were desperate to get out, and for some reason you couldn’t. All right, let’s look at it another way. Were you aware of your hands being tied? Or of being secured to anything, in any way?’
Jack had never dwelt on anything like that before, but he now concentrated his mind. ‘I’m reaching up and shifting about, so no – I don’t feel as though I’m restricted.’ Unwillingly, he felt himself drifting back. ‘But I can’t get away. I can’t get out!’
‘Jack, can you give some quiet thought to what I’m saying? I believe we can assume that at least one of the reasons why you could not get yourself out of that place, was that you were a small child. Maybe you were too little to find your way back to safety. So you did the one thing you were able to do. You cried out, calling for your mummy to help you. The fact that you were able to speak suggests you were at least two years old, maybe three.’
Jack had to admit that the explanations made sense. Yet he was deeply disturbed by these new revelations. If he had been a small child at the time, what on earth was he doing in that hellish place?
There had been someone else there – he knew that now. So who was it? Did they help him? He couldn’t remember. The idea that someone, for whatever reason might have taken him to such a terrifying place was too shocking.
‘I don’t understand!’ He clambered out of the chair. ‘No one would put a small child in such a position. I can’t believe that!’
When his confusion threatened to erupt into anger, Mr Howard spoke calmly. ‘Like I said, Jack, this is just one suggestion. Nothing can be ruled in or out at this stage. But we have to discuss every aspect as we go along. Only that way, can we uncover the truth.’
Jack took a moment to digest what had been said. ‘So, what you’re saying is, these nightmares could be happening for any number of reasons. The idea of me being a child in a real situation is just one possibility. On the other hand, they may simply be a figment of my imagination.’
‘That’s exactly right. Our understanding of dreams is very limited. They are, in the main, a condition of the subconscious. The reasons for regular nightmares such as your own are many, and what we’re doing with you now is simply delving. Searching for the source of your own particular torment. Pausing, he then continued sincerely, ‘Like it or not, we owe it to you to consider the possibility that your nightmare could stem from a real episode.’
Jack had a question: ‘If I can remember everything else, why can’t I remember calling out for my mother?’
‘Mmm.’ Mr Howard weighed his words carefully as he went on: ‘Maybe the stronger memories, such as the images, and the terror you experienced, shut out everything else. The cry for help was as natural as the images were unnatural. All these years, you retained the memories of actual images, the physical impact on your senses, such as the darkness and the watchful eyes. These were the source of your torment. Your cry for help, however, was intuitive. You felt no need to retain it within yourself.’
‘So, what happens next?’ Jack felt tired. Beaten. More than that, he was afraid of the unknown. Especially now.
In truth, he was already regretting having agreed to come here, and now all he wanted was to get away and never come back.
Molly was wrong. This had not helped. All it had done was to shatter his confidence even more.
A short time later, having said his goodbyes, Jack hurried off in the direction of the car park, while behind in the office, Mr Howard examined the drawings he’d made. And the more he studied that dark, intimidating place, the more he began to fear Jack’s sanity.
On passing a builders’ skip, Jack paused to take the new appointment card from his jacket pocket, tore it into small pieces, and threw it into the skip. ‘I won’t be needing that!’ he muttered. In spite of the doctors reassurances it was impossible for him to accept even the remotest possibility that the nightmares might not be a dream after all, but based on a real experience.
Now, because of the confusion in his mind, and the awful implications of what the psychiatrist had said, he was deeply insecure, and his fears were tenfold.
There were so many questions. If he had been haunted by a real experience as a child, then where was the place he saw in his nightmares? What was he doing there and what was it that filled him with such terror? Someone else had been there, he was sure of it now. But who could it have been?
One thing he knew for certain. He would not rest, until he found out the truth but, he would need to do it his way.
Whatever the cost.
Running across the street, Jack cut along the alley and went down towards the car park. He was both excited and nervous, because at long last he had come to a decision, one which had played on his mind for some time, but which he had set aside because of Molly.
His plan now was to face his demons. He was determined to get to the root of it all – however much he was afraid of the truth. Going to the psychiatrist had at least given him the push he needed. He was ready to go back now. As far back as the beginning.
He had to believe that the truth could never be as terrifying as the nightmares.
Molly would not like it, he knew that much. He also knew that now his mind was made up, nothing – and no one – would stop him.
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