All Is Not Forgotten(73)

“He what?”

He’s just really angry. When we meet now, I feel like I can’t talk to him about anything, because he just goes back to Mr. Sullivan and the fact that he hasn’t been arrested and that he’ll never get punished, because I was given the treatment so my remembering his voice won’t even matter.

“I see. And do you still feel that the voice you remember is from that night in the woods?”

It’s the same as before. My brain thinks so. But I don’t really feel weird around him or anything. I should, right? I saw him at my dad’s work last week, and I got nervous because of the memory but I didn’t feel anything else.

“Do you think Sean knows they’ve questioned him?”

What?

“Your mother didn’t tell you? Oh—maybe she’s afraid of your dad finding out.”

Oh my God! That explains why he walked the other way when I saw him! Jenny hung her head in her hands like she was ashamed. Oh my God!

“It’s fine. Really. He’s not being questioned because of anything that happened in here. He did something in his past. And then he lied about where he was that night. The police know nothing about our work. About your memories. I promise.”

It’s happening, isn’t it? There’s going to be a trial and everyone will see how messed up I am in my head! And Sean … Oh my God!

“What are you afraid of for Sean?”

He just … He’s just so angry. He said he …

“What did he say, Jenny?”

I shouldn’t tell you.

“It’s okay. Do you trust me?”

Yes … it’s just … he’s, like, my best friend. Sometimes I think he’s my only friend.

“Then help me help him. Tell me what he said.”

Jenny looked at me then, like a little mouse trying to not be heard even as she opened her mouth and let out the words. He said he wanted to kill him.

“Well,” I said dismissively, “people say that all the time, don’t they? Just this morning, I yelled at my dog and said something like that. ‘I’m going to kill that dog!’ Right? People say it, but they don’t really mean it. It’s an expression.”

No. You don’t understand. He said that he pictures Mr. Sullivan like one of the terrorists he was sent in to kill. He says he feels that way about him, like he has to die for what he’s done and so he doesn’t do it again. And then he said … he said he pictures Mr. Sullivan holding that stick and carving my skin with it. He just, like, sits there and lets himself imagine it, like an obsession. He said he has a gun. Said he knows how to fire it with his left arm. Like he’s been practicing.

“Really? When did he get this gun?”

I don’t know. He just said he would kill Bob Sullivan if he wasn’t brought to justice. He said he had a gun now and he would just do it. I told him I would rather die myself than see him get in trouble like that. And he just … he just held me really tight and …

Jenny was crying again. Oh, my twisted emotions! Crying was what she needed to do. She needed to keep feeling anything and everything. Can you see how this works? The feelings had found one memory and attached to it. Now we could use them to lead us to the others; we could follow them back to where that memory was hiding and see what else was hiding there. It was just a theory. But I believed in it.

And yet, the agony for my poor soldier! The fact that this was weighing so heavily upon him broke my heart. He was identifying these facts with what had happened the night he lost his arm. The terrorist behind the red door, needing to be brought to justice. To be killed. I was suddenly anxious to get him in for a session.

And then there were other concerns.

“Jenny,” I said in a steady voice, “when you say he held you, what do you mean?”

He just holds me sometimes. It’s not like anything bad. He says I’m like his sister, but also like one of his soldiers, you know, the ones who are under him. The rookies. He says he will die protecting me. Fighting for me.

“I see. That’s a relief, actually. I was afraid that your friendship might become something else, and that would not be good for either of you.”

But I still love him. He’s the only thing I look forward to now.

“Well, we are going to change that.” I leaned forward and took hold of her hands in mine. “We are going to finish what we started. You will remember everything from that night. We will put all the ghosts back to bed, and then you will get on with your life. Do you hear me?”

Jenny looked at me, a little surprised. I had never touched her before, or spoken to her with any emotion. I had not lost control. Rather, I was giving her a small dose of what she got from Sean.

“Do you hear me?”

Yes.

“Do you believe me?”

I don’t know. I’m scared to hope for that. I’m scared to find it. I feel like I’m poison, and if I can just keep myself away from people, I won’t hurt anyone.

“No, Jenny,” I said. “You are not the poison. You are the cure.”





Chapter Thirty

I would not see Sean again before this story ends. I had not realized this at the time. Too many spinning plates. Too many puppets to manage.

Detective Parsons reluctantly pursuing the lead on Bob Sullivan. Bob lying about his alibi to Parsons and Charlotte. Charlotte beginning to think he was guilty. Bob’s wife covering for him. The lawyer protecting him. Jenny and I resuming our work to keep her from slipping away from us. And Sean seeing Bob carving his sweet Jenny with a stick while he viciously rapes her. That leaves Tom. And my son.