Page 119 of A Stop in Time

Ohmygodohmygod. Eleanor Mackenzie. Those two names were written beneath Emilia’s name in that binder.

No. Nonono. That can’t be right. I grip the sides of my head as I stomp down the road, my breathing erratic. How can I know what’s real and not?!

A thought strikes in an instant. You need to go to your closet. A sense of rightness and security follows it, and I remember how I’d felt safe there in my other visions.

I need to get inside my closet. A sudden surge of strength and willpower course through me, even while my knees threaten to lock up on me, fear so potent I can taste it.

“Almost home,” I whisper.

Attempting to sift through what I’ve uncovered, my mind struggles with the convoluted mess. One thing I do know is, that man, Dr. Pinney, wasn’t my abuser in the way I’d previously assumed. We hadn’t been in a romantic relationship, but he did abuse and torture me.

By the time I unlock my gate, I’ve sped up into a jog, eager to get inside. Every hair on the back of my neck and arms stands on end. The sensation of prying eyes tracking my every move hounds me, and I don’t know if it’s solely paranoia or an actual threat.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, increasing my alertness as I climb the stairs, ignoring my near breathlessness.

Once I shut and lock my door behind me, I lean back against it, shocked terror practically rattling my bones. Drawing in one deep breath after the next, I will my heartbeat to slow to a more normal pace.

Look under the far-left corner floorboard of your closet. That’s what I’d told myself.

Staring at my hands as if they’re foreign to me, I can’t help but see them covered in blood. Everyone else’s blood.

Look under the far-left corner floorboard of your closet.

I know I need to, but now, I’m scared shitless of what I might find.

54

HIM

Dr. Pinney

“Sir, it’s my belief that she’s exhibiting irregular behavior more frequently.”

I barely refrain from losing my temper. “How many times have I told you not to interrupt me unless it’s an emergency?” Peons. They’re crucial but also a thorn in my side.

“I understand, sir, but—”

“But nothing.” I release a slow breath and attempt to roll my shoulders to dislodge the tension there before turning to him. “Don’t interrupt me again.”

Evidently, my look of severity breaks through to him. His shoes scuff the floor in his frenetic attempt to retreat, his back and skull slamming against the doorjamb with a loud thunk. “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”

He scrambles with the handle before rushing out, letting the heavy door fall closed with a subdued click.

Only now do I return my attention to the notes in front of me, a proud smile forming, because this is my legacy.

—Hypnosis, use of both traditional methods and ultrasonic sound, have proven successful

—Radiation exposure and synthetic telepathy were used in addition to other methods

—When threshold was challenged, it resulted in convulsions, followed by a heart attack before the subject was revived

—Results from implementation of methods in increased intensity served to modify her appearance

—Subject has integrated in her niche of society and responds appropriately to programming when contact is initiated

—Subject has been contacted by a sibling of their victim and has shown no recollection. This proves the advanced nature of the induced amnesia, as well as the fragmenting, compartmentalization, and disguising of memories within the subject’s mind.

I turn to the first page and let my eyes trace over her face. She stares back at me from the photograph. So young.