Chapter 6

"You're lucky you weren't beat up worse, kid," Officer McConnell said, shaking his head.

"You're probably right," I agreed solemnly.

Dr. Payton looked down at her notepad.

"Mark ... I think I can understand why Sharon would do what you describe. It's a slightly unusual self-destructive behavior, but that's what we often see happen with people that are coping with the loss of a loved one.

"It's called 'survivor's guilt.' They wonder why they deserve to still be alive when someone they loved so much is dead. When they can't consciously resolve that question for themselves, they subconsciously try to balance the scales by hurting themselves."

Something dawned on me. "What kind of doctor are you?"

Dr. Payton looked surprised. "I'm sorry; I thought you knew, Mark. I'm a psychiatrist."

"Well, that's good," I said slowly. "You could talk to Sharon about her side of it when she comes to see me."

"I'll be glad to, Mark. Have you talked to her much about her feelings after your mom's death?"

"Some. But we don't like to talk about it too much. I guess we just need more time."

"That could be," she agreed. "Do you remember how she took the news when she learned of your mother's accident?"

I tried to recall. "Not specifically, no," I said, a little frustrated with myself.

"Don't feel bad about it, Mark. You were dealing with your own emotions at the time. But ... how she reacted could tell me a lot about how to help her," Dr. Payton said thoughtfully. "Are you sure you can't remember?"

"I'm sorry but I can't," I replied somewhat testily. "I thought it was my short term memory we were supposed to be checking. You're asking me about what happened when my mom died a year ago."

"I think your memory is fine, Mark."

"Oh. Well ... that's good. Right?"

She nodded, and then studied her pad again before raising her eyes to me. "Mark, would you be willing to go under hypnosis?"

I blinked in surprise. "What for?"

"To see if there are any details in your subconscious memory about that night that might help me to help Sharon. Understanding the trauma that caused the problem for a patient can be pretty difficult for a psychiatrist. Sometimes it can take years of therapy to get a patient to accept what happen and move on. If I can learn what the triggers were, I could save her years of recovery time."

I only hesitated for a moment. "Of course; I'll do anything to help my sister."

Dr. Payton smiled warmly. "I was pretty sure you would, Mark."

I could hear Dr. Payton very clearly — in fact it was something way beyond clear. It was as if I was hyper-concentrating on her voice; it became my sole focus.

My eyes were closed, but I could visualize the movements of her lips as she spoke. I felt the depth of her breathing. I could sense the gestures of her hands. And I couldn't hear anything else.

"Mark ... we're going to talk now ... about the night your mother died ... and about how it affected your sister, Sharon."

I knew immediately that nothing I heard the voice say could possibly be more reasonable, or as important.

"Let's start with what was the weather like that night."

"It was ... stormy. It wasn't cold enough to snow ... but it was raining really hard."

"Were you and your sister home when your mom drove away from the house?"

"Yes."

"Did you and your sister talk to your mom before she left?"

"No. Just me."

"What did you talk about?"

The voice was asking an important question, but ... it was my nightmare.

"Mark?"

"Yes?"

"I know this is hard, Mark ... What did you and your mother talk about before she left the house?"

"We talked about ... Sharon."

"That's good, Mark. You're doing very well. Now ... tell me everything you can remember about that talk with your mom."

"She ... she asked me to be Sharon's friend. She knew that we didn't get along very well. She said that some day..." My voice had dried up again.

"Mark? ... Mark? It's alright, Mark. You're safe. You can tell me. What did she say?"

"S-She said that someday ... we'd be on our own. And that when that happened we'd have to love each other, and take care of each other."

"Good, Mark ... very good. Did she say anything else?"

"She said ... she asked me ... she asked me to promise ... to always take care of Sharon. To make sure she was safe."

"Good, Mark. What happened next?"

"I ... I promised."

It seemed like a long time before the voice spoke again.

"I see, Mark. I see. Then what happened?"

I felt myself begin to shiver, as if I'd just stepped into a walk-in freezer. I couldn't answer that question. The voice could go to hell. I knew if I answered that question, I would die.

"No."

"Mark, you're safe now. Nothing can hurt you now. Tell me what happened next."

"No."

"Mark ... whatever happened wasn't your fault. I need you to answer me ... so I can help your sister."

I couldn't stop shaking. But I'd do anything for my sister.

"M-Mom hugged me ... for a long time."