Shining among Darkness

By
WingzemonX

Chapter 31.
The Monster

That afternoon, Dr. Matilda Honey sat in a small Chamberlain cafeteria, located just a couple of blocks from the local high school. It was afternoon, but despite the proximity to the school and the time, she did not see any student come in while she was waiting. The place seemed more frequented by adults, workers who went there at lunchtime, and older people who met for coffee with old friends. She supposed that in that small town, the young people surely did not have many places to meet, and obviously that was not one of them. It was better that way. She didn't like the idea that someone that knew Carrie White would see them together and would tell her mother about it. Young people were more likely to open their mouths without thinking. In the case of adults, if any of those present recognized her... she hoped that everything she had heard about the opinion that people had about Margaret White was accurate, and no one felt the need to go and tell her about it.

There were many things wrong with what she was doing, not to call them unprofessional. She was about to meet with a minor without her mother's consent, and that alone was enough to could not treat her as a patient. But, Matilda hoped she could do it as a friend.

It had been a little over a week since her first visit to that town. Since then, she had only been able to communicate with Carrie from time to time through the cell phone she had given her, but the communication could not be so constant. Most likely, Carrie could only answer secretly from her mother and teachers. The day before, Matilda had felt that in the messages from the girl, there was something different, something that perhaps bothered her, but did not tell directly. Dr. Honey suggested meeting in person to talk, and although Carrie seemed a little reluctant at first, she agreed in the end. In fact, at that very moment, she seemed much more excited about the idea, as if all her humor had taken a complete turn.

Matilda had finished eating while she waited, and after another fifteen minutes of waiting, she dared to ask the waitress for dessert. Carrie entered the front door two minutes after that, her tangled blonde hair falling over her face, her books clutched against her torso apprehensively. She stood in the doorway, running her eyes shying by the site. Matilda waved a hand in the air for her, and when Carrie noticed her, her pink lips drew a small smile. The young woman cautiously approached her table.

"Hi, sorry for keeping you waiting," Carrie apologized as he was standing next to her.

"Don't worry," Matilda replied and immediately reached for the seat in front of her to invite her to sit down, an invitation Carrie immediately accepted. "How was the school?"

"Well... the same, I guess," she shrugged. "My mother will work until a little later today. I think we have a couple of hours before I have to go."

"I think that will be enough. Do you want to eat something? I invite you."

"No, thanks…"

Carrie spoke softly as if she feared someone else would hear her. She frequently looked at the window overlooking the street as if she expected to see someone pass by at any moment. Or, maybe, she didn't want to see her directly?

She was still holding her books against her. Also, when she realized this, she carefully placed them aside on the table, and then put her hands hidden underneath it, resting on her legs.

"Don't be nervous, everything is fine," Matilda muttered cheerfully. "Think that compared to escaping to Boston by yourself, this is nothing. Also, you're not doing anything wrong."

"Sorry…"

Carrie breathed slowly, trying to calm down. Matilda knew very well that the source of this terror was her mother. What horrible things would that woman have done to her to have forced her to be that way?

"What exactly will we do?" Carrie questioned, a little calmer.

"Just talk."

"Just talk?" The young woman replied, apparently almost disappointed at her response. Matilda wondered what exactly she expected them to do, or whether she had inadvertently given her something else in her messages.

"I know I hardly know you," said the psychiatrist softly, "but I think you've to have many topics in your life that you can't talk to anyone about. Or not?"

"I don't know... I don't think so," Carrie answered unsurely. "I thought you would only help me control my... powers..."

So that was it. Carrie had apparently gotten the idea that they might be going around levitating things together, or she would teach her some telekinesis tricks. Matilda smiled, a little amused by this. She couldn't really blame her, and in fact, she understood her. When she met Eleven and learned about what she could do, Matilda was too excited about the idea of learning how to do things she hadn't imagined or understand more about how her abilities worked. She wanted to be that same person to Carrie, but not yet, or not entirely. Still, if they had some time, perhaps they could do a little of that to satisfy Carrie's need and not disappoint her.

"I prefer to call them special abilities," Matilda explained. "And believe it or not, how you feel in your daily life has a lot to do with how you use them."

"And what do you want to talk about?"

Matilda shrugged her shoulders.

"Do you have a topic that you would be interested in talking about?"

"I can't think of something in particular..."

"Well, let's start with something simple. What do you like to do in your free time?" Carrie looked at her, a little puzzled. "We have spoken from time to time by message, but strangely you hardly tell me about yourself, what you do, or what you like."

"I don't think I like anything special."

"Come on, there must be something you like to do to have fun or entertain yourself."

Carrie slowly shook her head.

"My mother says that such things are distractions from the Dark One, to tempt us and distract us from the contemplation of God."

Matilda's lips arched in a small grimace, which she tried to hide as much as possible.

"Do you believe so too?"

"I don't feel like I have a choice to believe something different."

"What if you did?"

Again Carrie looked at her confused as if trying to understand the words of some unknown language.

At that moment, the waitress approached and placed in front of Matilda an apple pie with a sphere of ice cream on it.

"Thanks," Matilda murmured to the waitress, who left almost immediately. She'd ordered it almost to while away she waited, but now that she had it in front of her, it really looked delicious. "Do you want to taste it, Carrie?"

The young blonde woman watched the pie for a few moments in deep contemplative silence, but in the end, she quickly denied.

"No, thanks... that causes acne."

Matilda did not answer anything directly. That could be a common concern for any teenager, but coming from her, it was difficult to say if it was not derived from something else. Then she allowed herself to take the small piece and take a bite of pie and ice cream. Just as it seemed, it was delicious.

"I…" Carrie murmured suddenly, making the psychiatrist quickly look at her again, forgetting a little about the pie. "Sometimes, I don't understand if God is love, or is severity and fire... or all that... or nothing. My mother says that God punishes all the sinners and wicked, and protects His faithful. I've always tried to be faithful, but I have never felt protected by Him or by anyone. And I have never felt that He punish those who hurt me."

Carrie's words came loaded with a strong feeling of melancholy, but also something else. Something that was hidden below the surface but whose echoes Matilda was able to catch slightly: anger and resentment...

"Do you mean about the shower incident?"

Carrie snorted wryly.

"That was only the latest. All my life, they have made me suffer, they have bothered me, and they have made me feel like I am garbage that doesn't deserve to live... even my mother." Then she turned to look again at the window, at the street, and at all the people passing by. "And as much as I have prayed to God to exercise justice for me, to make all His fury fall on them, nothing happens... Or, maybe yes." She turned abruptly to Matilda with interest. "Are these powers maybe God's answer to my prayers? To do justice on His behalf?"

Matilda remained stoic, listening to everything she said, but mainly the way she did it. There were quite negative emotions accompanying her in each sentence, and also very dangerous.

The brunette breathed slowly, leaned her body slightly forward, and then stared into the eyes of the young woman sitting in front of her. Not in an accusatory or threatening way, but trying to appear sympathetic and open.

"Carrie, have you ever considered using your abilities against the people you mention?" She questioned her directly and bluntly.

Carrie hesitated.

"No, of course not…" She answered a little hastily, although then she had to instinctively turn her gaze away. "Maybe... But what would be wrong with that? They have mistreated me all my life. Wouldn't it be fair for once to return it to him?"

"That isn't justice, Carrie. It's just revenge."

"Well, I don't see the difference."

She seemed almost convinced of it. At first, Matilda hadn't noticed that there's such an amount of rancor and aggressiveness inside her, but she wasn't surprised either. It was not the first time that she had met a child who shines also carrying a weight similar to that on her. She was convinced from before that everything she had seen about Carrie White up to that moment was just the small tip of the iceberg. She needed a lot of help to be able to dig deeper into it and teach her how to deal with all those feelings appropriately. However, there was no way to accomplish such a thing without proper therapy and continuous sessions, which it was impossible to have on the phone and with sneaky meetings. But there would be no way to achieve this until she was of legal age, and she was ready to rebel against her mother and make her own decisions. In the meantime, she was a time bomb, that she could only appease as much as possible within what her current faculties allowed… which was not much.

"Carrie, I want you to promise me one thing," the psychiatrist whispered slowly. Then, she extended her hand across the table toward her, offering it to the young one. Carrie looked askance at her, puzzled. "If at any time you feel so trapped that you can't find any way out, I want you to call me before you make a decision you can regret. I'll help you, and I'll go where you are as soon as possible. I'll always be there for you. Okay?"

Matilda finished her sentence with the most candid smile possible. Carrie, however, remained silent, looking at the woman's hand on the table, as if it were some strange animal that caused her discomfort. Suddenly, she slowly raised her right hand, cautiously bringing it closer to hers. Those types of contacts were definitely not something known to her, and the effort required to complete it was significant... But, in the end, her fingers rested on those of the psychiatrist, and she took them in a gentle gesture.

Carrie was only able to hold herself like that for a few seconds, and then she pulled her hand away quickly, feeling quite nervous. She hugged herself and turned to the window in silence.

"Sew," Carrie snapped suddenly, confusing Matilda a little at first. "What I like to do… I think I like to sew. I started doing it because of my mother's work, but I think I really enjoy making my own clothes with my own hands. It clears me a little..."

Dr. Scott had barely turned to see Matilda since she entered his office. It was not the first time that in the meetings they had there, the good doctor focused only on his computer screen as if he were totally focused on something he was urgently doing. However, this time it felt a little different. He didn't seem to be pretending; he really seemed focused, watching what he was typing quickly on the keyboard. Whatever that was, the psychiatrist was not able to see it from her perspective, as if she had purposely moved the monitor at that exact angle.

"A homicide detective?" Dr. Scott questioned, with a questioning animated tone, "that is curious."

"Yes, it is," Matilda replied, a little unsure of her reaction. She had barely been able to sleep that night, and not so much by the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, but because her mind was too aware of practically everything.

The day before had been physically and mentally draining, and she thought about it for a long time during the night. Even so, she had to stand up with only a couple of non-consecutive hours of sleep, fill her body as much as possible with the horrible coffee from the dining room, and the not much better breakfast that was served there for the employees.

"But he has experience treating children who have been through things similar to Samara's," Matilda continued. "And my boss at the Foundation truly believes that his perspective could be helpful if we allow him to speak to her."

"Does he have experience working as a detective dealing with children?"

Matilda hesitated a little. Not precisely by his work as a detective, but she couldn't afford to go into much detail about it.

"You could say so," she replied simply.

Scott kept typing and said nothing for a long time, which puzzled Matilda a little.

"And what do you think?" He asked suddenly without warning.

"Excuse me?"

"You said your boss thinks he might be of help. What do you think?"

Matilda was surprised by that question. Since when did he care what she believed or not? Although, in comparison, it was quite likely that he cared a little more about her opinion than he cared about her boss, who he did not even know. However, if she had to give an honest answer, she would have to tell him that everything Eleven and this homicide detective wanted to do seemed crazy to her. And if she were in her place, she would prevent it at all costs... But there was no way that might be an acceptable answer for it, especially when she had already promised to do so.

With that thought in mind, she had to give the closest answer to the truth that she was able to process at the time.

"I think... that Samara's case is somewhat unusual, and sometimes unusual cases warrant trying some unusual measures."

Scott only responded with a small reflective groan and continued to stare at the screen.

"I would be with her all the time, and if something didn't seem to me…"

"Okay," said Scott abruptly. "Sounds good to me, go ahead."

That left Matilda so stunned, she found it challenging to put together a quick response.

"Seriously… Is it okay with you?"

"Sure. If you think it's useful, me too."

Matilda looked at him incredulously, expecting some kind of surprise or hidden condition, but it did not appear.

"And about my other colleague who would come on Saturday…"

"That's fine with me, too," she answered quickly without thinking. "I trust you'll use the methods that are best for the patient, Dr. Honey."

Matilda didn't know what surprised her the most: that he said he trusted her, or that he had referred to Samara as a patient and not as a "subject."

"Thank you..." the brunette murmured slowly, and then was silent for a while, watching him. His behavior was far from just unusual, and Matilda sadly had an idea of what might be causing this. "Dr. Scott... Are you feeling well?"

"Better than ever," he replied with a broad, cheerful smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, Dr. Johnson told me that you retired earlier yesterday and didn't notify anyone."

"I was feeling unwell, but I'm better now."

Matilda lowered her gaze a little to her big hands on the keyboard, especially the left one that was wrapped in a white bandage that covered almost the entire palm.

"What happened to your hand?" Matilda asked seriously.

Scott stopped writing and turned to see his own hand in surprise, as if it were the first time he had seen it, and was fascinated by its shape, its size, and the bandage that wrapped it.

"Just a small cut, nothing important," he answered in a subdued voice, although it was easy to guess from the bandage that it had not been just a small cut. "Are you thirsty?" He asked suddenly, and just after he took his cup and went to his water dispenser.

"No, thanks."

Matilda observed as he poured himself a whole cup of water and drank it all at once, surely without even breathing. She let out a satisfied sigh once it was done, stared at the wall for a few moments. Then, he served more.

"Dr. Johnson also told me what happened between you and Samara..."

"A doctor-patient misunderstanding," Scott replied quickly, cutting her off. "Nothing to worry about."

Perhaps he believed so, but surely it was not so. Samara had done something to him, probably on purpose or maybe not, and it had left a mark on his mind... just as it had happened to her mother. Scott's reaction, however, seemed to be quite different from Anna Morgan's, and it was difficult at the moment to determine if that was a good or bad sign...

"These images are not temporary. They remain, they remain in the physical world, although the user is not even present. And if this happens with the images on the acetate, it should be the same with the minds of the people. In other words, the images she implants in their minds... they never disappear. If she did this to her mother, the damage that she has done..."

It would be permanent, or at least that was the conclusion she and Cody had reached weeks ago, although it was all just a hypothesis. If Dr. Scott's behavior continued to become more erratic, it could be dangerous to someone or to himself. But what could she do? Tell them to put him in a cell right there? She still didn't even know what exactly Samara had done to him. And if there was real psychic damage to him of the magnitude they theorized, she wasn't sure they could do anything for him if they interned him. But... and could she? Maybe not her directly, but maybe someone else from the Foundation.

Dr. Scott kept filling his cup and drinking from it insistently.

Matilda ran her hand over her face, carving it a little. She felt so tired and had so many things on her mind. It would be irresponsible of her not to do something about the good doctor at the moment. Still, she had to accept that she did not have enough strength to deal with two problems at the same time, not that day. She would discuss it with Dr. Johnson after the session with Samara and expect him to take care of the rest.

He then turned back to the front, noticing the computer monitor. Somewhat curious, she tried to lean forward a bit so that she could see what he was writing exactly and what kept him so focused. However, before she could see anything, she felt the doctor's heavy hand on her shoulder, pushing her against the chair so that she was sitting upright in it again. Matilda looked at the hand out of the corner of her eye; it was the left hand, the one that was bandaged. When she looked up at his face, she noticed how he looked at her from above in a somewhat intimidating way, through his thick glasses.

"If you don't need anything else, doctor, I have a lot of work," he indicated in a monotonous and calm voice. Then he withdrew his hand from her and started walking back to his chair.

"Okay," Matilda replied, trying to sound as calm as possible. She stood up carefully, putting her bag on her shoulder. "I'll give you a report of the session later."

"If you consider it necessary..." He answered in return with indifference. "Then he sat down in his chair and began to write in a concentrated way again, without even turning to see her as she left his office.

Once she left Scott's office, Matilda went to the waiting room, where redundancy goes, who would be her partner that day was waiting for her. Detective Sear had arrived just over an hour ago, much more rested than she was obviously, and fresh to start as soon as possible. Matilda took having to talk to Scott about it as a reason to put a little distance between them, even if it was only for a few minutes. She knew that her attitude was childish, and any patient of her who behaved in this way would be severely reprimanded. However, she simply could not help it. It seemed like a primary behavior that dominated her over reasoning, something that never happened to her, or at least she believed so.

As she entered the waiting room, she saw Cole sitting in a chair, casually checking his phone. Hearing her approach, he looked up at her and smiled gently. Something in that smile caused Matilda's discontent to rise slightly more, but she choked on it with a slow inhalation through his nose.

"How did it go?" The officer questioned, putting his phone in his coat pocket. "He agrees?"

"I think so..." Matilda answered, not quite sure. "Obviously, I had to skip the part about trying to speak to a demon. But I've got the feeling that, even if I had told him, he still wouldn't have cared."

Cole looked at her, intrigued by her statement.

"What do you mean?"

Matilda looked back as if fearing that Dr. Scott was suddenly standing behind her, but there was no one there besides them.

"I'm not sure. Dr. Johnson believes that Samara did something to him yesterday when he tried to confront her. And whatever it is, it seems to have made him somewhat more cooperative, not to mention that his behavior is quite strange and absent."

"What do you think she did to him?"

Matilda shook her head, indicating with that act that she did not know for sure.

"Depends on how she felt at the time and what she wanted, I guess. I haven't been able to speak to her directly about what happened, but I suppose it'll have to be after this. What I want the least is to alter her more than we should."

"Then," the detective exclaimed, standing up quickly from his chair. "Let's get down to business, okay? I follow you."

Matilda's face became especially severe at the time, for no apparent reason; apparently, she disliked his being so willing. Without saying anything, she started to walk out of the room, and Cole followed her, walking beside her.

As they walked down the hallways, Matilda was the first to break the silence with a direct question.

"If you want to speak to the demon, entity, or whatever you think is in her, why exactly do you need me to use hypnosis?"

That had been one of the indications that he had given her just upon his arrival when he explained what they would do in the session. According to what he said, he needs her to hypnotize Samara, assuming she knew how to do it. Obviously, she knows, but it still bothered her that he assumed it that way... Actually, everything bothered her coming from the policeman at that moment.

Once she performed the hypnosis, Cole would take the reins and try to converse with Samara, or preferably with the creature he was sure was harassing her, keeping Matilda nearby as a guide in case something went wrong.

"Simple," he had said at the end of his description. Yes, simple, to be the instructions of how to have a direct line to hell, as she understood.

For his part, Cole smiled amused when he heard her question.

"And how did you think I was going to do it?" He returned it with irony. "With some shaman dance or something like that? Sacrificing a chicken? An Ouija board, perhaps?"

"You said it, not me," Matilda murmured, perhaps more sarcastic than anticipated. "I'm just curious since Eleven was so sure you could handle this case without my help."

Cole smiled even more. Maybe that hostility seemed funny to him, partly trying to disguise himself as apathy. However, he continued to answer her questions to the best of his ability.

"Use hypnosis is not as important as the fact that you do it. Samara trusts you deeply. She'll relax and open her mind if you ask her to, and that way, she'll leave a window open so that whatever is hanging around her hears us and speaks to us much easier. Or well, I hope so."

"Do you hope so?" Matilda snapped in disbelief, stopping dead in the middle of the hall. "How many times have you done this exactly?"

"A couple... or something like that," he replied calmly, without stopping. "But don't worry, you're safe while you're with me."

"I feel safe," the psychiatrist muttered sardonically, and after a silent snort, she resumed her walk.

Due to the unusual nature of the session they would have, it would not be possible to conduct it in one of the most pleasant rooms where Matilda had been talking to Samara lately. A little more privacy and isolation were necessary so that no one would see what was about to happen; and, mainly, that nobody was close if something went wrong. The latter would perhaps not be so much of a problem since, at that time, the entire hospital was terrified of Samara. However, there could always be someone curious whose destiny could end up like the cat of the saying.

In that hospital, the place that best suited their requirements was, for better or for worse, some of the white observation rooms, like the one in which Matilda had met Samara the first time. They had an electronic lock and were almost entirely isolated; without the cameras or microphones on, no one could hear or see what was going on in there. Of course, they had to make sure that there was no one in the next room behind the double mirror, and indeed it was; even the computers were turned off.

Samara was in a position quite similar to the one she was on the first day: sitting in a chair in the center of the room, with her head down, her long dark hair falling over her face, and her hands clasped over her legs. This brought Matilda a unique Déjà vu, and a feeling of having returned to the beginning of the therapy with the little girl. She really hoped it wasn't.

When they entered, the girl raised her face barely enough, poking her tired, absent eyes out of her hair to look at them. At least those eyes were not the same as that first day. They didn't look cold and even almost aggressive like that occasion. But instead, they ware sad and full of anguish.

"Hello, Samara," Matilda greeted her with a cheery attitude, quite different from how she had been a minute ago in the hallway, and Cole noticed it. "How are you?"

"Fine," the little girl answered in a subdued voice.

Matilda approached her while Cole waited at the door. The psychiatrist stood in front of Samara and squatted down to have their faces at the same height.

"I'm sorry we had to go back to one of these rooms," she said, smiling at her. "I promise it'll be just for this session, okay?"

"Don't worry, I understand," Samara murmured regretfully, lowering her gaze again. What happened the night before has clearly still affected her.

Matilda sat up again and turned to the person who was accompanying her.

"Samara, this is my colleague Detective Cole Sear. Maybe you saw him last night; he was with me to help you when you were trapped."

The girl turned slightly to him.

"Hello, Samara, did you sleep well?" Cole asked in a friendly voice, raising her right hand in greeting.

"So, so... Are you a police officer?"

"Yes, I am." Then he approached carefully, as he put his hand in his pants pocket. He pulled his badge out of there, crouched down in front of Samara just as Matilda had been a moment ago, and showed it to her so that she could see it up close. "See? They don't give one of these to anyone."

Samara stared blankly at the badge for a few seconds, then slowly drifted toward the detective's face. Cole did not express it directly, but the direct sensation of those deep and dark eyes caused a small stab of pain in his chest, which at the moment, he could not explain.

"Am I in trouble for what I did?" The girl asked suddenly, taking the two adults by surprise.

"No, no, of course not," Matilda said quickly before Cole could even think of an answer himself. "He is here to support me. Do you remember what I told you in the morning that we needed to do?"

Samara was silent. She looked pensively towards a corner of the totally white room as if something was interesting there. Still, there was absolutely nothing worthy of attracting so much attention.

"You want to talk to the Monster," she whispered slowly as if she were saying it to herself. "But you shouldn't do it... She can hurt you, and I don't want that to happen..."

"Hey, don't worry, little one," Cole chimed in, noting a somewhat confident demeanor. "That's why I'm here for, to protect Dr. Honey from what's harassing you." Then he moved a little closer to her as if he was going to tell her some secret that he didn't want Matilda to hear. "You see, I also have powers, like the doctor and like you. And I've dealt with monsters like this before. So, I know what to do to keep them at bay."

Samara looked at him suspiciously.

"Really?"

"Sure. I'll watch nothing happens to her. You have my promise, okay?"

Then he held out his hand in greeting. Samara looked at it with some suspicion. She squinted at Matilda as if seeking her approval. Her mental state was not exactly the most objective, but Matilda nodded, indicating that it was fine. The girl raised her own hand and took the detective's in a friendly greeting.

"That's right, you're very brave," he indicated as he raised and lowered their hands. Matilda appreciated the slight blush peeking from the girl's white cheeks, although the rest of her face looked peaceful.

Cole stood up again and stepped aside, intending to give the psychiatrist free passage. When he was close to her, Matilda whispered slowly:

"Apparently, you are good with children."

"I told you, this is not the first time I have done this for the Foundation," he replied in the same way.

It wasn't exactly that she doubted it, but the fact that he said he only helped children who could see ghosts and that no one else could help put it a little in doubt.

Matilda took a chair, perhaps the same one from that first day, and placed it in front of Samara so that they were face to face. She sat down, adjusting her skirt, and looked at the little girl with a calm face. Samara almost immediately looked away in embarrassment.

"Don't be afraid, Samara," the brunette told her in a soft voice. "We are both here to protect you. Now…" She put her hand into her bag at that moment, searching for something inside. After a while, she got a shiny gold coin from it, relatively larger in size than a regular coin. It did not appear to be a real coin, although it was difficult to determine precisely where it was from. "I want you to look closely at this coin. She is pretty, right?"

Samara nodded.

"It's very bright."

"Yes, it is." Matilda placed the coin in her right hand, and then put it between her and Samara with the back facing up. With a flick of her fingers, the coin began to move smoothly between them. It twisted between Matilda's fingers to one side and then to the other, in a way that seemed almost impossible for not to fall from Samara's perspective. Almost like it's some magic trick. "I want you to look at it all the time; don't lose sight of it."

Samara obeyed. She stood still in her chair, while her eyes moved along with the coin; to one side, then to the other, and back, steadily and rhythmically. What called her the most was the glow that came from it every time the ceiling lights touched at a certain angle.

"Relax, let your body relax," Matilda whispered in a slow, calm voice. The girl listened to her, but as a distant echo, since her attention was only on the coin. "Don't forget to breathe, just like I taught you yesterday. You are in a safe place; while we are here with you, nothing and nobody can touch or harm you..."

Samara didn't quite process those words in her head, but somehow they still created a sense of relief in her chest. After a few more seconds, the coin stopped moving, and Matilda caught it between her fingers, hiding it from the sight of her patient. However, she barely reacted to that change. Samara's eyes continued to look at Matilda's hand wholly gone, without saying a word or moving a finger.

"Samara, do you hear me?" The psychiatrist whispered cautiously.

The girl was slow to respond, but then said without much effort:

"Yes…"

It was done.

Matilda slowly withdrew from the chair, but Samara kept looking in that same direction as if her hand was still suspended in the air between them.

"Well done, Doctor," Cole said with some admiration. "A curious way to hypnotize.

"Did you think you would use a pendulum or something?" She replied curtly. Cole couldn't help but smile as he realized she had throwback his joke. However, they both knew, deep inside, that his had been better. "Listen, be very careful. Speak clearly, and don't push her too hard."

"The latter I cannot promise," the officer replied in a neutral tone and then approached the same chair in which she had sat only a second ago.

Cole removed his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. Then he rolled up his salmon-colored shirt, exposing part of his thick forearms. Matilda stood to one side, watching everything in silence. She wasn't sure what she thought he would do, but it was definitely an exaggeration.

The detective sat in the chair with his legs spread apart, resting his elbows on his thighs to lean his torso forward and extend his face towards the girl. Samara kept staring at nothing as if she was not at all aware of his presence.

"Samara, do you hear me?" Cole whispered slowly, and like Matilda, the answer to that question came from the little girl's lips with some delay.

"Yes."

Cole nodded. He stared at her, very steadily, without even blinking. Matilda thought it must be similar to when he sat in front of a suspect to question him and get the whole truth. Even with the shirt rolled up and everything.

"Is the Monster here with you right now?" The detective questioned in a serious tone.

"She is always with me... I am the Monster..."

"Do you think she would want to talk with me? Now?"

The girl remained silent.

"Samara?"

"No..." She replied after a while. Her breathing then started to shake a little. "You don't want to talk to her... I'm scared..."

"Remember what I told you, Samara. We can deal with it, and we'll protect you. I'll protect you both."

He looked at Matilda then and smiled provocatively at her. The psychiatrist turned away, indifferent to his gesture.

Samara didn't say anything else at the time. She was just breathing steadily and deeply, in effect as if fear was beginning to take hold of her.

Cole leaned even closer.

"Listen, thing," he snapped suddenly in a more aggressive tone. "I know you are there, and I know you listen to me."

"Hey, wait..." Matilda interjected, alarmed by the tone he had begun to use. Cole indicated, however, raising a hand towards her and still looking at Samara, to wait.

"If you are so brave, show yourself to me. I order it to you."

Samara breathed much more agitated, and her inspirations were accompanied by small sobs. She lowered her head, and her hair fell completely onto her face. Still, Matilda and Cole could hear the sounds coming from her throat and nose.

Matilda had the instinct to step forward and wake her up. But suddenly, the overhead lights began to flicker. This caused an adverse reaction in the psychiatrist, which made her take a few steps back on alert and then remain petrified in her place. She hopelessly related this to what had happened at the Portland hospital. She feared for a second that same stranger was there. Luckily, nothing like that happened.

The lights continued to blink a little, and the sound of Samara's sobs was then accompanied by the noise of static electricity coming from the fluorescent lights turning on and off. Until, suddenly, these sobs were cut short, so abrupt that they seemed to have left one unfinished.

All the lights in the room went out at the same time, and remained so for several seconds, then returned to apparent normality. Samara was sitting at that point in her chair, but with her head still lowered and her hair completely hiding her expression. She was absolutely silent and motionless as a statue.

Once everything calmed down, Matilda dared to cautiously approach them again.

"Samara?" She whispered, concerned.

Halfway there, Samara jerked her head toward Cole. He shuddered slightly when he noticed this, and even Matilda herself felt a shock in her chest. The almost violent coldness that she had seen on Samara's face the first day had returned, but much more marked. But the most worrying thing was her eyes... or rather her right eye in particular since the left was hidden by her lengthy hair, which really left very little of her face visible. But that eye in question was no longer Samara's eye. It had clouded over, as if a grayish layer had formed over it, and reflected no light; and she was staring at Cole...

Matilda felt it immediately; something had changed in the air in that room. Everything started to feel heavy, a little colder, and humid. The whole vibe that came out of the girl in the chair had also changed as if she were a totally different person.

The detective recovered his calm immediately and watched her for a while in silence, holding her gaze. She also did it without moving a single muscle of her face or any part of her body. Cole felt it from the moment he saw her eyes; all his instincts had been put on alert and shouted at him: he was before the being he had come to confront.

"Tell me, what's your name?" the blond man murmured demandingly.

The girl remained unchanged for a few seconds before answering.

"I am Samara," she murmured slowly. Partly it was her same voice, but it sounded a little different; scratchy, as if exhausted or sick.

Matilda watched everything in silence, unable to believe what she saw. She was clearly hypnotized, she had taken care of that herself. And she knew very well that in that state, the mind could do many things, especially someone with abilities as unusual as Samara. But, was it really just that? Something in her chest made her uneasy, very uneasy...

"No, tell me what your real name is," Cole repeated again in the same way as before.

"I am Samara Morgan... that has always been my only name."

"If you're Samara Morgan, who is the girl we've been talking to so far?"

Samara, or the being speaking through her, did not answer anything. She stood perfectly still, looking at Cole slightly absentmindedly. No word came out of her mouth.

"Answer me," Cole murmured, almost aggressive.

The girl suddenly tilted her head slowly to her left. Her hair gently rocked to that side, revealing part of her left eye, and showing that she was in the same condition as her right. The air was getting colder, and the lights flickering a little every twenty to thirty seconds.

"What are you afraid of?" The girl suddenly questioned, taking Cole a little off guard.

"I'm not scared…"

"Not true," Samara said flatly. "You are afraid all the time, of everything. To any dark corner in the room, to any icy breeze that touches your skin, and to any sudden sounds behind you. Because you know the horrors that are hidden in them, that haunt you and are always there stalking you. You cannot run away from them, nor stop seeing them. You are his food and his amusement, as a fearful mouse in the claws of a cat." She leaned her face towards him a little, without taking her eyes off him for a moment. "You're pathetic…"

Cole remained serious and unaltered in his chair. Perhaps, from Matilda's perspective, too unaltered.

"Samara, enough..." the psychiatrist muttered and stepped forward.

"Wait," Cole told her, reaching out for her again to signal her to stop. "Why are you here? What do you want with this girl?"

"I want to protect her," Samara replied without much thought.

"From whom?"

"From you..." Samara murmured slowly, and then turned to Matilda; Feeling those gray eyes directly on her made her nervous, and she couldn't hide it. "From her... From her mother... from her doctors... and from this whole world, that the only thing you will do is destroy her, just because she is a little... different."

Matilda was quite surprised to hear her say that. Was it Samara who was really saying those things?

"How do you know?" Cole asked. "How do you know they will harm her if you don't protect her?"

Again, a long silence before an answer.

"Because that is what they did to me…"

The lights blinked faster then and stayed that way for a long time.

"Who? Who did it to you?" The detective demanded but received only once more just silence. "Who are you, really?" Just silence. "Tell me who you are. I order you to..."

"You don't give me orders!" The girl yelled suddenly, her voice echoing with the force of immense thunder. She jumped up from her chair and launched herself at Cole before he could react. She took the policeman's face tightly in her hands and held him firmly close to her. Cole's entire body froze in that instant. Nothing answered in his body, not even one of the fingers of his hand. He couldn't also turn her eyes in another direction; they were fixed and lost in the two deep gray lakes that were the eyes of that creature."

The chair Samara was sitting in, flew up against the wall behind her, and shattered with the blow. The lights flickered, and two of the fluorescent lamps exploded, accompanied by a few sparks.

"Samara!" Matilda snapped and immediately wanted to come closer. But before advancing more than three steps, her entire body separated from the ground and was also thrown against the wall. Her back collided with it, and then she collapsed to the floor, sipping her side, hitting herself.

While Matilda was on the ground, she could tell that it was... wet. She looked as she could in the direction of Samara, and could see that from her feet, a pool of stagnant water seemed to slowly begin to form, and the ground was starting to corrode and crack, starting right where the bottoms of her feet touched it.

Cole was totally still, not even blinking. He couldn't feel anything except Samara's hands on his face... a pair of cold hands, without any human warmth in them.

"You all believe Hell is made of fire and brimstone," Samara murmured with that raspy girlish voice. "But the truth is that Hell is a dark, cold and infinite sea that penetrates your body like thousands of needles, and slowly consume your flesh until it leaves nothing but a mock of gnawed skin and bones. There nobody hears your screams, and nobody is going to save you. And each one of you will feel it and live in your own flesh because I will drag you to it. And after Seven Days, you will want a death that will never come... only more suffering and more pain..."

Samara's fingers pressed more Cole's face, and he even felt her nails hurting him.

"You think you know the real darkness of this world, but you haven't seen anything yet... I'll show you..."

Suddenly, Cole's right hand managed to move, and quickly and without warning, almost as if it had moved on its own, placed against Samara's forehead, and pushed her back, but without releasing her.

"Let me see... what you really are..." the detective murmured between gasps, as he found himself totally exhausted after a long career.

Various grunts and sounds emerged from the girl's mouth that did not seem to be made by the voice of a human, much less a girl. Both of his hands grabbed onto Cole's wrist, but Cole realized they weren't the hands of before. These were gray, wrinkled, gnawed, with sores and horrible bumps on them. He quickly took his hand away from her, revealing a part of her face, although most of it was hidden behind her dark hair again. It was no longer just her eyes. Her face looked haggard, still with grayish and battered skin, contracted in a grimace of hatred and pure anger.

He could see her, his sixth sense had shown her. That was her face... that was the Monster.

But, something was not right. That face, even despite its deformities, even despite its changes... it was still that girl's, there was no doubt about that.

I am Samara Morgan... that has always been my only name.

Matilda didn't see the same as Cole, but she didn't need it to react. As she could, she got up quickly. Her clothes were soaked, and her side ached, but she managed to get close to them as soon as possible and place herself in the middle.

"Samara! Wake up, now!" She yelled at her loudly and snapped her fingers just in front of the girl's face. Samara shuddered and backed away awkwardly. Matilda quickly held her by the shoulders to keep her from falling. "I'll count to three, and you'll slowly return to the surface. Come to where you hear my voice... one... two... three..."

As soon as she said the number three, the girl took a deep breath in and pulled her head back; it looked similar to like she had just come out of the water and was trying to catch her breath quickly. By the time she turned back to Matilda, quite bewildered, her eyes had returned to normal.

The lights, or at least the ones that remained, calmed down. But the water and the marks on the floor had stayed. Agitated and confused, the little girl looked around, alarmed mainly at feeling the puddle at her feet.

"No... I didn't... I didn't want to..." She began to stammer between sobs, and her legs suddenly felt weak, and she dropped to her knees on the wet floor.

"It's okay, everything is fine, little one," Matilda whispered softly, lowering herself to the floor with her without letting go for a second. When they were both on their knees on the floor, she held her gently and comfortably ran her hand through her hair. "It's over, it's over. You did everything right, and you were courageous."

Samara lifted her arms and hugged her too, though not very tightly. She hid her face against the psychiatrist's shoulder, and began to sob slowly, but not to cry properly.

Cole watched it all silently from his chair. He seemed calm, though thoughtful. He raised his hand to his right temple; Samara's nails had been marked where they were pressed, slightly damaging his skin. But that didn't matter much to him, because what occupied his mind the most was that image he had seen a few moments ago. However, he still did not know how to interpret it.

He sneaked a glance at Matilda's back and part of the girl's cavalry jutting over her shoulder as they hugged each other.

I am the Monster... I am the Monster...

Thar was what Samara had exclaimed the night before after releasing her. And at that moment, Cole began to question how accurate that statement was...

END OF CHAPTER 31