"I know you have a lot of anxiety. Do you experience flashbacks, hear voices you don't recognize?"

I nodded.

"You're eating well, apparently. That's good.

Do you have any numbing, any part of your body that feels detached?" I shook my head.

"Good. Just so you'll know what to expect from me . . . I'm going to try to get you, slowly, of course, to relieve the trauma you have suffered. We have to undo any unnecessary shame and guilt. It's all right for you to get angry and eventually to grieve, Laura. When you're able to do so, you will return fully to yourself. I might employ hypnosis. We'll see, okay?" he said, his voice soft, comforting.

I nodded.

"That's good. Okay, Laura," he said, "let's do something now. Let's both relax and you tell me whatever comes to your mind .. . words, pictures, anything. Go on," he said, "close your eyes and just let your mind wander."

I did so. Pictures flashed, but each for only a split second. I saw sand and water, faces that I couldn't attach to names, small boats, and cranberries in a bog. I described each thing to him.

"That's good, Laura. That's progress. In a short time, all these apparently unconnected images will start linking up for you and you'll start to find meaning. You're on your way home. I promise," he said.

"The best thing for you to do here is relax. Enjoy our facilities, write in your notebook, and rest. You're going to cure yourself," he said. He sounded so confident and sincere, I felt better.

He talked about other patients with similar problems and how they overcame them to return to active, healthy lives. He assured me that whatever was wrong with me would end and I would never return to the clinic once I left.

"Try to say something to me before you leave today, Laura," he concluded. He got up and walked over to me, taking my hand into his and looking so intensely into my eyes, I couldn't look away. "Go on, say your name. Try," he urged.

I opened ray, mouth and moved my lips.

"That's it," he coaxed. "Go ahead."

My tongue lifted and fell. I felt the muscles in my neck and throat strain.

"Lawwwww." I started to gag, tears burned under my eyelids, and I felt my cheeks turn red and hot.

"Okay," he said, patting ray hand. "Okay. It will come back."

He patted my hand and returned to his chair.

"I have to do some research on you, Laura. I have calls out to gather the information I need. You and I will meet again tomorrow," he said, "and in a week's time at the most, you'll see some dramatic changes. Okay?"

I nodded and smiled. I decided he was a very nice young doctor, someone I could probably trust, only at the moment I had nothing to trust him with except my immediate feelings. He took me out to his secretary.

"Mrs. Broadhaven didn't get to show you some of our facilities yesterday, Laura. She wants to do that now, okay?"

I nodded and the pretty woman rose and led me out.

"We have a very nice arts and crafts studio here," she explained. "It's just down the hall from the lounge."

I gazed through the door at some patients watching television, playing chess, and reading. In the rear, a young man was playing Ping-Pong with an attendant.

"Here's the studio," she said, pausing at another door farther down the corridor. I looked in and saw Megan wearing a frock and dabbing roughly at a soft clay figure she was forming. Lulu and Mary Beth were painting with watercolors at a table in the corner. A tall woman with beautiful red hair and a milky white complexion approached us.

"This is Laura," Mrs. Broadhaven said. "I'm showing her around, but she might come right back here," she added, seeing the interest on my face. "Laura, this is Miss Dungan, our art therapist."

"Hi, Laura," she said, offering her hand. "You can choose any format to work with: clay, oils, watercolors, wood. We can make ceramics, too."

I sensed something familiar. I know an artist, I thought, but I couldn't remember his name. Miss Dungan saw how hard I was staring at Megan's sculpture.

"Do you want to try that today?" she asked.

"It might help you remember things," Mrs. Broadhaven suggested.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Logan Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net