Torn (16 page)

Read Torn Online

Authors: Eleanor Green

Tags: #romance, #beach, #hea, #love triangle, #new adult

Katie took a seat in the lobby and
picked up a magazine. She had only enough time to flip through the
first few pages before her name was called and she saw Dr. Windsor
standing in the doorway of her office. Her long auburn hair was
pulled back into a low ponytail that lay against her navy pantsuit.
She had brown eyes and a few small freckles across her nose. “Hi,
Katie, I’m Bailey Windsor.” She led Katie into her office. “You can
sit here, or we can sit over there on the sofa—whichever is more
comfortable.”


Thank you for seeing me.”
Katie took a seat and sank deep into the dark brown leather
chair.

Dr. Windsor took a seat in a wing-back
chair across from her. “So, what brings you in today?”


This might sound silly,
and I’m not sure it will do any good for me to be here, but I’m not
sleeping well. I keep having these recurring nightmares. I’d like
to know why.” Katie wrinkled her brow and felt a frown form on her
mouth. “Also,” she hesitated, not sure she should divulge any more
information. She wasn’t comfortable sharing such intimate details
about her life. But Dr. Windsor was a professional—sworn by oath
not to share any information about her patients.
This should be a safe place.
Relax, Katie. Just tell her everything and let’s get this
stuff out.
“I’ve been having these . . .
pictures that flash through my mind—like memories, but they’re not
memories. It’s not anything that has ever happened to me—it’s
places that I’ve never been, people I don’t know—but these pictures
are portrayed in my mind like lost memories.” Katie exhaled,
realizing she hadn’t remembered to breathe. “It’s really bizarre
and confusing. Am I losing my mind or something?” Katie chuckled,
trying to make it seem like a joke, but inside she was worried that
something might actually be wrong.

Bailey scribbled a few things in her
notepad before looking up. “No, Katie, you’re not losing your mind.
Are you experiencing any high levels of stress—a new job, moving?
Stress can come from good as well as bad.”


I—” Katie looked down at
her hands as she twisted her fingers. “I recently experienced a
miscarriage, but the nightmares began before that
happened.”


I’m so sorry for your
loss. You said the nightmares began before this?”

Katie nodded her head. “Off and on for
a few years now, but they’ve become more frequent.”

Dr. Windsor set her notepad on her lap
and looked up at Katie. “I have a few ideas that I’d like to
try—see if these are actual memories, or something caused by
stress. First, have you ever had a severe head trauma?”


No.”


Okay, get comfortable.
I’m going to ask you a few questions. Try to answer quickly, the
first thing that comes to mind.”

Bailey Windsor went through a series
of questions, and once she felt like Katie was comfortable she
continued with harder ones, having Katie look up and to the left as
she answered, and then to the right.

Katie felt like the whole
experience was a bit hokey, but she participated and did exactly
what the doctor asked. When the session was over, she made an
appointment for another visit. Nothing was accomplished, but she
felt extremely relaxed. Wasting a day at home on the couch wasn’t
an option Katie cared to entertain, so she drove toward the Bean,
hoping a cup of coffee would stir her back to life. With a steaming
cup of latte in hand, she pulled out of the parking lot and took a
left toward her favorite boutique. Katie was trying to get into the
turning lane, but the car next to her wouldn’t let her
over
. I’ll run your ass off the
road!
Katie thought as she pushed her way
in front of the car. She waved a sarcastic “thank you” in the
rearview mirror.
Jeez, what’s wrong with
me?

 

 

Fifteen

 

 


Have a great day!” The
two sisters that owned Navy & White waved as Katie walked out
of their shop.

Katie found several cute things—a navy
polo dress, a navy and white striped hooded shirt, a pair of boat
shoes, and a pair of sliver studded earrings. As she walked to her
car, fishing for her keys deep in her purse, someone bumped into
her, causing one of her bags to drop.


I’m sorry.” The man
handed her the dropped bag.


Thank you, I wasn’t
watching where—” Katie got a quick look at the tall blond before he
turned away. She thought the interaction was strange as he hurried
off before she could finish her apology. Finding her keys, she
unlocked the trunk and set the bags inside. Before she started the
engine it dawned on her that she might have been robbed.
Shit!
She searched her
purse for her wallet and discovered it wasn’t there. After calling
both credit card companies to cancel future purchases, she dialed
the police and tried to give a description of her robber. She sat
in her car for a moment, angry that he had done this to her—and was
aggravated after realizing she would have to replace her driver’s
license, too.

Katie suddenly snapped out
of a trance, wondering how long she had been sitting there. The
clock answered by showing that thirty minutes had passed.
What happened? That was more than a
daydream—crap, I AM going crazy!

 

***

The following week Katie entered Dr.
Windsor’s office and sat on the couch.


Hi, Katie. How was last
week?”


The flashes are getting
worse. Also . . .” Katie lowered her head, ashamed. “I’ve been
having spurts of rage. Not outwardly, but in my head. I’m cursing
people on the road, thinking ugly things about people I pass on the
street or in the grocery. This isn’t me—we’ve got to get this
figured out. I’m going out of my mind.”


We will.” Bailey Windsor
leaned forward and set her pad of paper on the side table. “I’d
like to hypnotize you, Katie. How would you feel about
that?”


I don’t know, it sounds a
little frightening.”


There is absolutely
nothing to fear. It’s like dozing off for a nap. I’ll ask you a few
questions, and then you’ll wake up.”

Katie hesitated for a moment,
contemplating the pros and cons. She was afraid of someone getting
inside her head, but at the same time she was ready to have her
life back and have answers. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Ten minutes later, Katie was under.
Dr. Windsor spoke softly and calmly. “Katie, you’re completely safe
and relaxed. I’d like to ask you about your earliest childhood
memory. Can you tell me the last thing you remember about being a
little girl? Where are you? Who is with you?”

Katie’s voice was hollow and far away
when she answered. “I’m holding my doll, Ashley. I’m brushing her
hair. No! Don’t let them take me! Please! No!” Her body began to
tremble and tears flowed down her cheeks.


It’s okay, Katie. You’re
safe. No one is going to take you. Who do you see?”


A woman. She’s trying to
take me, but I don’t know her. No! Please! I won’t let go of the
post. She’s prying my hands loose. Ashley! Ashley!” Katie began
screaming.


Katie, I’m going to wake
you up on the count of three. One . . . two . . .
three.”

Katie opened her eyes and wiped the
tears from her face. “What happened? Did I say anything helpful?
Why am I crying?”


You said someone was
taking you away. A woman was prying your hands from the post you
were holding onto. Then you started screaming for Ashley. You were
upset, so I woke you up.” Dr. Windsor handed Katie a box of
tissues. “Does any of this mean anything to you?”


No. It’s the dream, but
none of that ever happened to me. I’ve never had a doll named
Ashley, and no one ever kidnapped me.”

Bailey Windsor jotted a few things in
her notebook. “Let’s try again in a week.” She looked up at Katie.
“Sometimes hypnosis can bring out buried memories. If you have any
other flashes, either call me or write them down for our next
visit.”

 

 

***

Katie sat on the back deck enjoying a
glass of wine. It was a warm, breezy afternoon in July. She planned
on drinking the entire bottle as an emptiness took over like a pit
in her very core, threatening to eat away every ounce of who she
was—or who she thought she was. She had always been a happy,
carefree woman, but the pull of depression was so strong she
couldn’t fight it and decided to give in, helping it along with the
numbing effects of the alcohol. When she finished her second glass
of Chardonnay and reached for the bottle to pour another, tiny
flashes of what seemed like dreams flooded her mind. They came in
waves, like jolts from a form of shock therapy, only they were
painless—at first.

 

***

Katie left her glass on
the table, retrieved her keys, and drove down I-89. Deep in
thought, she exceeded the speed limit, driving faster and faster.
After setting the cruise control to help maintain a safer speed,
she merged onto I-93 and let her thoughts wander.
It can’t be true! There has to be another
explanation. Gram will know, she’ll help make sense of all
this.

The lines on the road
became blurry from the tears that rushed from her eyes. She tried
to blink them away and focus on the road when she heard tires
screeching and a horn blowing. Katie screamed when she saw that she
had veered into oncoming traffic. After bringing her car back into
its own lane, she pulled over on the shoulder. She sat there for at
least thirty minutes, letting the tears flow along with fresh new
memories of her past. Her mind was flooded with faces and names.
She vaguely remembered her horrible foster parents, the cruelty
they inflicted on her and . . . Katie racked her brain to remember
the girl’s name that she shared a room with.
Amy? Abby? Ally! Her name was Ally.

Ally’s name brought with it a
floodgate of memories. She remembered being torn from her parents’
home—begging the strange man and woman not to take her away. Katie
held her hand tightly over her chest, fearing her heart may break
all over again. As the memories swiftly came back, it was like
watching a movie.

 

 

Sixteen

 

 

Sixteen years ago . .
.

 


Please, don’t let them
take me away!” Katie cried, holding onto one of the white posts
that lined the front porch steps. The chipping paint felt rough on
her little hands, but she held on as tight as she could. Strong
hands pried each finger and finally carried her away from the only
home she had ever known.


Ashley! Ashley!” Katie
screamed and reached for her ragged doll that lay on the third step
of the porch. A tall man in a dark collared shirt walked over,
picked up the doll, and handed it to a sobbing Katie, who wilted in
defeat. She hugged her ragged doll to her chest and whispered,
while stroking its long silky blond hair, “Don’t worry, Ashley, I
won’t let anything happen to you.”

As the long black car pulled away,
Katie tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat. Warm tears
stung her eyes, but she refused to let any more fall. No one would
see her weak side, her broken heart, or her fear ever again. Six
was much too young to worry about such things, but Katie had never
really been given the luxury of childhood. If she wasn’t holding
her mother’s hair while she vomited, or fetching another beer for
her father, she was hiding from the plethora of drug-induced
zombies that her parents referred to as friends. After one of her
father’s friends put his cigarette out on the top of her head, she
knew it was best to stay in her closet with the door shut and keep
very quiet.

When the car came to a stop, Katie
looked out of the window. Her new home was a red brick single-story
home lined with large trees and a wood-fenced back yard. It didn’t
appear to be anything like her parents’ home—a rundown double-wide
with stained carpets, peeling wallpaper, and garbage everywhere. If
you wanted to watch television at Katie’s house, you either had to
sit on the floor, or dig out a spot on the sofa to sit down, which
was never worth it to Katie.

The new house looked
acceptable from the outside. She wondered what awaited her on the
inside. One of the strangers

a lady wearing a cream blouse, who
sat in the backseat with Katie during the ride

rang the doorbell. Someone, a lady
it seemed, opened the door and greeted the two strangers before
addressing Katie. “Well, hello there.” She smiled and tried to make
eye contact with Katie, who was still hiding behind the lady in the
cream blouse. Katie’s body was paralyzed and her muscles ached from
the continuous trembling. Her teeth were clenched together, and she
was sure if she tried to speak, they would chatter.

Katie peeked around one of the men and
glanced at the strange lady. She was thin with bleach-blond hair
that fell loosely around a floral blouse. She wore a shimmering
bubble gum pink grin that stretched across her pretty face. Katie
found an ounce of confidence as she crept out from behind the men
and spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Hi,” she said,
immediately lowering her head and twisting the hem of her lavender
floral dress between her fingers.

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