Page 87 of A Stop in Time

He raises his hands over the keyboard but stills, hesitance lining his features. I pluck the headphones from the hook mounted to the side of the computer and place them over my ears.

A tiny voice inside my head warns me it might be too much too soon after what happened yesterday, but desperation to reveal more memories has spooled inside me, and it’s too tempting to refute.

With my fingers poised over the keyboard, I type in my search and choose the one from last time.

Guided hypnotic meditation helps retrieve lost memories buried from traumatic events…

Clicking on the video, I adjust the volume and focus my sole attention on the narrator’s voice and the images on the screen.

“Try to relax as much as possible…”

“You are clearing the pathways through your being, opening up…”

“…allow yourself to sink even deeper into your subconscious and seek out what you’re looking for…”

Just as before, my surroundings fade, leaving only the white noise echoing in my ears. It’s as though a light switch flipped inside my mind, illuminating portions of hidden memories.

I scream out in agony, begging for someone to help me, but my words are jumbled and incoherent from the unbearable pain. My skin feels like it’s melting off my body, fire encompassing my entire left side.

That’s when I hear the man’s haunting voice.

“You should know better than to betray me, Mackenzie. You’ll never get away from me.” Even through the near-impenetrable haze of pain, the fury in his voice elicits a fresh dose of alarm racing through me.

Pure menace drenches his words as they cut deep, ripe with threat. “You need to remember this.”

Strong fingers press against my face before thumbs force my eyelids to open. “Look at me. Remember this.”

It takes me a moment to focus on the man whose face hovers over mine. His pale unforgettable features contrast with his deep voice that promises the utmost pain.

“Remember this.” He forces me to stare at him, his thumbs pinning my eyelids open. Acid churns in my stomach before climbing a searing path up my throat as I’m ensnared by his evil gaze.

It’s as though I’m peering into the devil’s gateway, and it’s this instant that I know I can’t ever give up.

I can’t let him win. I don’t know why he’s doing this to me, but deep down I know if I give up—if I give in—I’ll end up just like him.

His mouth curves into a malevolent smile that has a unique brand of fear nearly drowning me. “Yes, you’re more like me than you realize.”

The memory blurs before blooming into a different one.

Water sluices over my body in the shower. My forearms and palms are planted against the shower wall, my forehead resting against the cool tile while my eyes remain closed.

Pain runs bone-deep, as if my body’s been repeatedly run through by a raging bull. I can barely hold myself upright, but it’s my head that hurts far more than any other part of me.

As if someone’s taken a sledgehammer to my skull, my mind’s frayed, as though even my thoughts have endured trauma and have become fractured.

You did it. Congratulations. You surpassed expectations.

I twitch, my body jolting as another sentiment charges through. This is wrong. You have to turn back now.

I wince at the warring thoughts, wishing I could silence them. My eyes flutter open, and I blink away the water, waiting for my eyes to focus. Once they do, my attention is riveted to water circling the drain at my feet.

Pink-tinged water seeps from my body, going round and round the drain before it disappears. Numbly, I stare at it, and the sentiment spurs to life in my brain once again, as if on a repeat track, while a sense of pride and accomplishment surges through me.

You did it.

You did it.

You did it.