Crystal had decided to trust in the expertise of Dr. Weber who had examined Mikael in the first place. He was a member of staff at the high-security institution connected to the Hawaiian State Hospital. Now she sat in his office, while he explained the planned therapies to her.
"There are various therapies. Basically, they all aim to help the patient to re-integrate the traumatic events and thus, re-integrate the different personalities. I have worked with traumatized police officers and soldiers. In Mr. Gant's case, it will be more difficult, though, because he has not only to deal with the traumatic event he witnessed but also with the ones caused by him. He will have to endure everything that has happened and accept it. It is always a long and painful process, and I can only do so much to help in creating positive neural pathways," Weber said. "There is no guarantee it will work. You have to understand that. The human mind is no broken bone."
Crystal nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Not at the moment, I'm afraid. We still don't know exactly what triggers the personality switches, but there is no doubt a strong sexual component."
"Mikael always said he needed me, and when I'm with him, he did not have nightmares." She knew she was almost pleading, and she tried to sound reasonable and calm. She just felt cut off from her well of force, strength, life itself!
Dr. Weber stayed unimpressed. "I believe you, but at the moment, I consider it too dangerous. The patient's condition is too unstable."
"And when can I see him again?"
"If I recall correctly, Mrs. Jennings, during your last visit he wanted you never to come to see him again."
Crystal wiped over her face. "He… he was not feeling well. Please…"
"We will talk again next month, I promise. In the meantime, try to get some rest yourself."
…
"I have already told you what happened that night." Mikael's hand moved again to the tiny metal plates attached to his head. He felt very uncomfortable, despite the sedatives.
"Yes," said Dr. Weber, who was sitting at the opposite of the room behind his computer. "But it is important that you can tell these events without trying to push them back. It is vital that you can walk through and past them. So please, tell me what happened that night at your studio!"
"I arrived very late. It was past midnight and very bad weather. We had a thunderstorm. When I turned the key, the lights went out...I heard a woman scream..."
... Mikael knew his way, nonetheless, he was forced to move slowly, as he had stored several materials in the entrance area of this always too small studio.
"Nick?" He called for his assistant. Instead of an answer, he heard terrified cries again, then something clank and shatter.
"Nick, are you there?" For an instant, lightning illuminated the surroundings. "Hello? It's me, Mikael."
He thought once again he should have installed an alarm system months ago, but this was expensive, and he only started to sell a few pieces. Voices sounded from upstairs. What was going on there? Then, he saw a black shadow move upstairs. The next lightning ripped Nick Sorvino's face from the darkness. And in it, two wild, feral eyes. His assistant stormed downstairs. The harsh push against his chest let Mikael almost lose ground. Nick overthrew some things, then the door was smashed.
He reached the upper floor. In the flashes of light coming from the windows, he saw her, the girl he had sent ahead for the photo shooting. She lay amidst shards of glass and other broken equipment. He knelt down beside her; she hit after him and tried to get away frantically. That was when the electricity came back on, and he discovered she was bleeding and his hands were full of blood. He recoiled in shock, and the lights were out again. ...
"You managed to call an ambulance, and they took care of her." Dr. Weber's voice seemed to reach him from far away. He still knelt on that floor, the frightened woman in front of him. "She did not die. And Nick Sorvino was arrested and sentenced."
Mikael blinked and looked at the psychiatrist, slowly discerning his surroundings. "Yes," he answered.
"She did not die."
"No. No... But... the others did..." He buried his face in his hands and cried. "Why are you doing this to me?"
A nurse peered through the door, but Weber hushed her away. "Everything under control." He stood up and stepped to his patient to remove the EEG-contacts. He waited a moment, and then asked "How do you feel now?"
Mikael stared at the psychiatrist. "Terrible. I want ... I want to be left alone."
"You have made a huge step forward today. The last time after these sessions, you smiled at me and said 'I feel fine'. So I'm confident we can move on to the next phase."
Slowly, Mikael stood up but felt so dizzy that he had to hold onto the chair again. His gaze wandered through the room, to the window with the white curtains that lazily moved in the breeze. "Crystal. Did she … ask for me? Did she call?"
Weber hesitated. "Yes," he answered finally. "Do you want me to tell her anything?"
"I love her. Tell her, I love her. And … " He still stared to the window. "…and she should listen to the urge of creation … she is… very gifted."
...
Crystal lay awake, a condition that seemed to become her natural state unless she took sleeping pills. She did not want to do that too often, of course. She had called Dr. Weber last evening, and he had told her, Mikael's switches might have something to do with certain light patterns, as the original incident took place during a power outage and thunderstorm. Light patterns … Mikael is a video artist, so he had dealt with a lot of light patterns. But they had watched a few of his videos together and they had made one – there had never been any unusual behavior!
Crystal went into the living room, took their videotape, and watched it. The memory of these wonderful hours and the thought she might perhaps never feel, never love him again, made her cry. It took a while until she was able to see clearly and focus at all. Light patterns. Which light patterns? She recalled the photos and video footage she had seen at the police. There was a common motive. She just could not grasp it! What was the difference? What went wrong? Frustrated, she stood up. That was when her view got caught by the small wooden model puppet standing on one of the shelves. Yes! Fragmented bodies! And flickering lights created exactly such fragmentations!
In Mikael's videos, it had been soft, fluid transitions of light. But in a club for instance… And did not Detective Hoover mention something about a night club in L.A.?! And then again, one in Keawaeli Beach?! Crystal hurried to the phone to call Dr. Weber and realized at the last moment, that it was only 4 a.m. So she had to wait a few hours more before she could tell him her discovery. Would it be of any help?
…
A few weeks later, Crystal stood at the reception of the Institution and was told, she could not see Mikael. "Why? Yesterday, I spoke to Dr. Weber and he said, the therapy looked promising and he made good progress! He wanted to see me! So why am I denied this visit?"
"I am sorry." The young nurse browsed through the files in front of her. She seemed to be new, Crystal had never seen her before. "One moment, please… Yes, there's a note. It says Mr. Gant attacked one of the paramedics this morning. He is in restraints in the security ward and can't be visited until further notice. That's it."
"I want to speak to Dr. Weber."
"Of course, I call his office."
A moment later, she informed Crystal, that the psychologist had to leave in an urgent matter concerning a police shootout and that he would only return in two days.
She returned home, stretched out on the bed for a few hours. Then she started to paint again to keep her mind busy and away from the claws of desperation. Two days later, she stood in Weber's office as early as possible. However, she noticed quickly, he did not have time for her today, as he was buried in a staple of paperwork.
"Mrs. Jennings, it is difficult to accept, I know that," he answered to her complaint. "Mikael Gant is unpredictable. I told you that before. That is exactly the cause of why he should be in a safe environment."
"Like in the dark ages in chains?!"
"You're overreacting. Please. We only want to hinder him from harming himself or others."
"You said you wanted to help him!"
"I do, but there are limits to my possibilities. I'm sorry, but I have to finish this report for the police."
Crystal turned to the door. She felt so exhausted, she did not even have the strength to reply or say goodbye. There, she almost collided with a young nurse but did not bother to apologize. Nothing did matter to her at the moment. She ran back to the elevator to get down at the reception again.
In the meantime, Dr. Weber greeted the nurse. "Karen, where have you been? I had ordered these files over an hour ago. The chief of police has called already two times, because of the press conference."
"I'm sorry, I had to wait till my migraine medicine kicks in. I had this damned flickering neon light all morning at my floor." She placed the folders in front of him. "I reported it two days ago already, but no one showed up to fix it."
Weber listened up, alarmed. "What did you say?!"
"The neon light. I –"
"You were on which floor?"
"Fourth."
"Shit! That's the floor where Mikael Gant is, right?"
"Yes, and there was an incident yesterday with him. I thought things would get out of control and I had to call –"
He reached for the phone of the station's supervisor before she had finished.
…
Meanwhile, Crystal headed toward the reception to get a new appointment for a visit within the next few days.
"You can apply again next month," the paramedic behind the desk said and handed over multiple forms.
"Why only next month?"
"It's the regulations, Madam, I'm sorry. Safety and security precautions. As you are not related to the patient, you can only apply for a visit once a month. This is only in the best interest of our patients and the functionality of this institution. Do you understand? We cannot allow every press scribbler or any curious person to waltz in here and stir up trouble."
I'm not 'any person', she wanted to shout at him but realized at the same moment, she was exactly that, technically. So it would have been no use in arguing further! She snatched the forms and hurried out of the building, determined to settle this particular problem! A few minutes later, she walked to the next taxi stand in sight, fired by an energy she had not sensed for many months. She ordered the driver to bring her to the address of Mr. Louis LaMotte's law firm and hoped, he would not be too busy.
