Читать книгу When Your Eyes Close: A psychological thriller unlike anything you’ve read before! - Tanya Farrelly - Страница 12

In daylight, Tessa’s house was even more impressive. Nick looked out across the lake as he stood on the porch waiting for someone to answer. Round the back, he could hear children playing, their squeals of innocent delight. Tessa answered the door herself this time.

‘Hello, Nick. Please, come in.’ Her smile was warm as she stepped back to admit him.

The medication had helped, for the shakes at least. He’d felt like hell after Michelle’s visit. He’d gone into the sitting room and sat on the sofa crying, the pain so bad that nothing could ease it, and the only one he could blame was himself. The dog had looked at him, puzzled, and he’d buried his face in its fur until the convulsions had eased. But he knew that he’d done the right thing. If he’d been honest, Michelle would have insisted on staying. Better that she think he was a total bastard and get on with her life. She’d get over him; he wasn’t that special. Not like her.

‘How have you been?’ Tessa asked as she led him into the small office.

‘Up. Down. The doctor prescribed Librium and Valium. They’re helping a bit. How many sessions do you think I’ll need before the urges stop?’

Tessa indicated for him to lie back in the chair. ‘It’s different for everyone,’ she said. ‘I know it’s only been two days, but have you noticed any difference?’

He shook his head, took off his jacket and sat into the chair.

As soon as he did so, the visions came back – the confabulation. He wasn’t surprised. His dreams always came back to him as soon as he got into bed at night. He tried not to think about it.

Tessa must have seen his discomfort because she referred to it at once.

‘I know you’re probably a bit nervous after what happened last time, Nick, but it’s not common, so try to put it from your mind. Just lie back and try to relax.’

He took a deep breath, exhaled it shakily.

‘That’s it,’ the woman said.

She began with the same instructions as last time. Her voice was gentle, lulling him towards unconsciousness. This time he didn’t fight as much. He allowed his body to slacken limb by limb as she told him to. Sleep deprivation aided his hypnosis. He was aware, but from somewhere far away, of Tessa’s voice telling him to make a fist, to think of a time when he felt empowered, when he felt strong. He thought of Michelle again, but then he remembered that Michelle wouldn’t be there anymore, and he let himself drift back, and back further still to the time before he married Susan. To his youth and then suddenly to his childhood.

He’s in a playground, his father pushing him on a swing. He laughs, asks his father to push him higher. He kicks his legs out, catapults himself into the air, hands gripping the metal chains. Then suddenly, the scene changes. He’s the one pushing the swing. He’s laughing still, but his laughter is joined by a high-pitched squeal of delight. ‘Hold on tight,’ he says, as he pushes the swing and the little girl in jeans and a yellow T-shirt flies forward – pigtails sailing behind her as the swing pauses at the crest before making the descent into his waiting hands. ‘Okay Caitie, we’d better get going,’ he says, as he steadies the swing and helps her down. But she’s already running towards the slide.

The images shift between his life and the unknown. Sometimes, he’s aware of Tessa’s voice guiding him. She tells him that he’s somewhere quiet, somewhere peaceful and he sees himself in a field by a small stream.

He’s gathering firewood, but he’s his other self – the one with long hair. He has a moustache. He’s just lit the fire when he hears voices, singing. He looks up, smiles. A woman is coming through the trees, it’s Rachel. The little girl skips next to her, jumps through the long grass. She runs towards him singing one of their favourite songs – ‘Kisses Sweeter than Wine’.

‘Nick.’ Tessa was calling to him.

Nick? No, John. Johnny, that’s what Rachel called him.

‘I’m going to count from one to five, Nick. When I get to five, you will open your eyes. You will feel good. You will feel relaxed.’

The images were fading. The woman and the little girl moving beyond reach. He was reluctant to wake. He wanted to stay there in the camp with Rachel and their child. Their little girl, Caitlin. That was her name: Caitie.

His eyes fluttered.

‘One. You’re coming back now, Nick. Two. You’re becoming aware of your body again. Three. You’re bringing with you all of those good feelings. Four. You are aware of the sounds around you. Five. You’re opening your eyes, Nick. Open them slowly. Keeping hold of those positive feelings.’

He blinked. Closed his eyes again. Caitie.

‘Open your eyes, Nick.’

He opened them, saw Tessa hovering next to him. She smiled. ‘You did great, Nick. Just take your time now.’

He lay there a few minutes longer trying to hold on to the images of the woman and the girl, but they had faded – nothing left but an all-too-real memory. He opened his eyes, sat up. Tessa had turned the light on, she was poised at her desk waiting for him to speak.

‘She was there again.’

Tessa eyed him, curious. ‘Who?’

‘Rachel. The woman from last time. We were camping. I was lighting a fire and they appeared from the trees, Rachel and Caitlin.’

‘Who is Caitlin?’

‘My daughter.’

Tessa nodded. ‘Are you close to your daughter, Nick?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t have any children, it was in the dream. In the dream, Caitlin was our daughter – mine and Rachel’s.’

Tessa looked perturbed. ‘This woman, Rachel, do you know her in real life? Could she be someone from your past?’

‘I don’t think so. And yet, I feel like I know her; she’s so real. And Cait – the little girl … I’d like to go back,’ he said suddenly. ‘Maybe I can find out more information, figure out what’s going on.’

Tessa shook her head. ‘You’ve done enough for today,’ she said. ‘I can’t explain these images, Nick. Maybe as we go on, it’ll become clear. Maybe these people are part of your past, something you’ve blocked out.’

Nick looked at her, incredulous. ‘I couldn’t have blocked out something like that. I’d know if I had a wife, a daughter. It’s just not possible.’

Tessa picked up her pen, scanned her diary to make their next appointment. ‘That’s not quite what I meant. Maybe these people take a different form in your confabulations. I’m not sure. We’ll just have to see what comes out in subsequent sessions.’

‘What about that thing you said before? About past lives?’ Even as he said it, the cynic in his head scoffed at the thought. But the images were so real …

‘I’m afraid I don’t believe in that. I think we get one chance here, let’s try and make sure you get the best one you can. Now, how about Friday?’ she said.

Friday. Only two days away – he reckoned he could manage that.

As Nick got in the car, he fought the temptation to phone Michelle. He’d like to talk to someone, to tell them what was happening to him, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to figure it out himself. Maybe what Tessa said was true. Maybe Rachel was a version of someone he knew, of Susan maybe? Although, even as it occurred to him, he didn’t believe it. And Caitlin – his little girl – where had she come from?

Nick got back to the house, took his Valium, and sat at his computer. He typed ‘past life regression’ into the search engine again, this time ignoring the voice in his head that told him that it was all nonsense. What if it wasn’t … if there was the sliver of a chance that it was true? It would explain why the experience he’d had under hypnosis had seemed so real. It would explain why Rachel – her name had even taken on a new significance for him – seemed more than a conjuring of his imagination. It would mean that death was not the end.