Chapter 13 "Memories"
They're a part of all of us. Some are good, some are bad. We always look back on them in wonder and to examine our lives. It can kills us when there's some important memories that we unfortunately lose and try desperately to retrieve.
- Michael Mules, Journal Entry
When they went inside the room, Dr. Olsen gestured Michael over to the bed-like chair that was beside a sofa. Michael laid down on it, while Wendy took a seat next to the doctor on the sofa.
"Now this may take a while to work," Dr. Olsen told him.
"That's okay. I just want to remember."
"Doctor Olsen, is this dangerous?" Wendy asked, fearfully.
"Repressed memories are tricky." The doctor sighed, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "They can fight to keep themselves buried. Michael has to fully open his mind for this to work."
Open his mind. That could be dangerous in more ways than one for Michael. Mainly because Wendy was here. He imagined revealing his deepest fantasies about the two of them under the doctor's trance.
"Now are you ready?" Dr. Olsen asked. He was seated right beside him, taking out a chained watch.
"Yeah, let's get to it," he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
Wendy kneeled forward, closer to him. "I'll be right here incase something happens."
He nodded and smiled when her expression became sore.
"Now then, let's get started." Dr. Olsen raised his arm, the watch dangling from his hand. He put it over Michael, hovering; he concentrated on it like he was supposed to, focusing his sight only on the object as it started to swing from side-to-side.
"I want you to relax. Forget about the two of us being here. Block out any noise other than my voice."
Michael's senses started to do the opposite. He was now feeling every bit of wrinkles from the leather chair, the voices and heartbeats of hundreds from the building and outside on the campus sounded to him. He could smell mainly coffee and perfume of various kinds.
Just close it off, he told himself mentally.
The noises slowly began disappearing, the smells went away and he started to feel numb.
"Think back to a month ago, Michael." Though he could hear him, Dr. Olsen's voice sounded very distant to him. ⌠Go back to that day that you passed your driver's test."
Slowly but surely, the sight of the swinging clock shimmered into black.
In his mind, Michael pictured that hour before he had suddenly blacked out. He saw himself getting a hug from his mother after announcing his success in the test. They drove back to their house; she went back inside, and he drove away, and then┘
His head erupted in a jolt of pain.
He jumped up to a seating position, rubbing at his forehead. Michael thought it was safe to say that first try didn't work out so well.
"Are you alright?" Wendy was right beside him.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He shook his head, still feeling a small pinch. "Lets try again."
"You might want to wait a minute," Dr. Olsen told him. "The mind is a fragile organ."
"I can take it," he insisted to the doctor.
"Michael, don't be stupid." Wendy eyed him, insistently. He slowly nodded, not being able to ignore the twinge of fear prickling from her eyes.
"Alright, let's give it a minute then."
When he laid back down, Dr. Olsen started again, and once more, Michael went back to when he had passed his test, leaving his mother at the house and then leaving, and then . . .
He jumped up with his head smashing from side-to-side within his skull, wildly.
A few minutes late, they gave it a third time, which ended in the same results.
"Michael, are sure you want to keep going?" Wendy asked.
He nodded in persistence. "Yes, I need to remember. If just a few images make out of there, it could be worth it."
"Alright then." Even though Wendy nodded, he knew that she was wishing that he would forget about this. He understood, but despite the aching pain in every molecule of his head, he had to keep going.
The next few tries didn't get any better. Michael waited a full ten minutes before going again. He laid back down and closed off all his senses, except for his hearing of Dr. Olsen's voice.
"Think back to that day," he said once again. "Keep going after you dropped your mother off.\"
The events played out in Michael's head, again. He dropped his mother off at the house and he drove down the street. The pain came, but he pushed passed it. He had to know. The image in his head dampened, becoming hazy, but it was still there.
Michael could see himself continuing to drive until reaching the end of the street. In front of his car, he thought he saw a figure. The blurry image made it impossible for this person to be identified. A few moments passed, and Michael saw another figure in front of him, taller, more controlled in posture.
The pain ached, but Michael fought it. He tried to clear away the haziness, so he could see the person. He had to get a face, it could mean everything.
"There is a person approaching me," he said, barely aware of it.
"Who is it?"
It took a second before Michael recognized the distant voice as Dr. Olsen.
"I can't see him."
"Try to, Michael."
"I can't, it's too hard."
The pain was becoming too much. He could feel his skull thrashing, hiss head yelling to be released from this enormous amount of agony.
"Michael." It was Wendy. He had almost not recognized her voice. "Come on."
"I'm trying, but I still can't see him."
"You can do it. You're strong."
Her voice was becoming a distant echo, the pain was becoming too much. He forced his hearing to open up again, so he could listen to her wonderful, soothing voice.
"You can do it," she continued to say.
Yes, he could do it. He had to. The blurry image of that figure started to clear once more. He could now make out a suit.
"Hello, Michael." It was an elderly man's cool and concrete sounding voice. "I'm happy to meet you."
The face soon cleared and Michael could finally see it. The man had a short set of light hair, a stern face, and horn-rimmed glasses.
He finally had a face of his apparent kidnapper.
The man with the horn-rimmed glasses.
Michael rose from his seat in exhaustion. He pulled back his hair and felt sweat on his hand. He then realized that one of his legs was shaking, he seized it and relaxed back down on the chair.
"What did you see?" Wendy asked. She sat next to his legs, keeping a hand gripped on one of his wrists.
"I saw a man," he said. "A man with horn-rimmed glasses."
"What now then, Michael? Do you want to keep going?" Dr. Olsen asked him.
Michael; thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, one more time."
"Are you sure?" Wendy asked in concern.
"It will be fine." He then quickly added. "I want to hear your voice, again."
She nodded and went back to sit next to Dr. Olsen as he started swinging his watch over Michael, once more. This time, Michael went back to when he reached the end of the street. The first figure - still blurry in image - appearing in front of his car. The second figure approaching, only this time, his image was clear.
The scene changed and all Michael could see was a blue light, and the shapes of two people standing over him. There was also a distant beeping noise.
The same thrashing pain hit his head, but both Dr. Olsen and Wendy's voice came again. They encouraged him to fight the pain, to remember the event as best as he could.
The scene began to clear; the two figures were becoming more noticeable. Soon he recognized the man with the horn-rimmed glasses and the other was a bald man with dark skin. They both had the same stone-cold expressions. Both seemed to have no regret of their actions. Michael was a bit afraid to go on, but he knew that he had to.
He couldn't hear what it was they were saying. The place they were all in was still blurry, but Michael could still hear the beeping sound. The image of a heart monitor appeared before him, and then a bag of blood - his blood.
The images disappeared and Michael sat back up, again. His body was sweating and shaking like before.
"Well?" Wendy asked, kneeling in front of him.
"I remember enough now," he said shakily. He looked over to the doctor, who was sitting on the sofa, patiently. "Thank you, Doctor Olsen."
The man nodded without a word.
Michael gave himself a minute before standing up and walking to the door.
"Now we have something to work with," he told Wendy.
She curled the side of her lip. "This is going to get more dangerous, isn't it?" she whispered so Dr. Olsen didn't hear them.
Michael just nodded.
From the other side of the door, they heard some sort of argument taking place. One of the people sounded young and familiar to Michael. They opened the door and walked in on Dr. Olsen's secretary, Barbara, trying to keep a grip on a struggling Tracy as she tried to practically drag her towards the elevators.
"Tracy, what are you doing here?" he said in shock.
"This girl was standing right outside the door, listening in on your session, sir," the secretary said to Dr. Olsen.
"She's my sister." Michael walked over to them and released Tracy from Barbara's hold.
"Why are you here, Tracy?"
She looked at him narrow-eyed. "Don't try and give me the third degree. You tell me why you're here."
This was not what Michael had expected. He should have been able to hear Tracy in the car, but he had been closing himself off from his abilities since the prom. He looked to Wendy, who was lost for words.
"Alright, let's talk," he said to his little sister.
What lies in our past defines us, but if we forget, we lose our way. So it's important to know your past, no matter how difficult it is when remembering hard times. After those hard times are done, we just leave it in our memories and move forward.
- Michael Mules, Journal Entry
To Be Continued