Felicity’s pale index finger rose on cue.
“Very good. Now I want you to step forward and begin walking down the stairs. As you do so, feel yourself sinking deeper into the sensation of comfort… You will feel as though you are swaddled in a deep, restful sleep, yet you will remain alert… Focused… Aware of your surroundings and of my voice… When you reach the bottom of the stairs, there will be a comfortable chair awaiting you. Take a seat in it, and when you have, lower your finger.”
Again, almost before Helen’s voice had a chance to fade, Felicity’s finger was on the move.
“That was a short staircase,” I whispered.
“Sshhhh,” Helen shushed me softly, then whispered in return, “There are only as many stairs as the individual requires. No less and no more.”
I still thought it was a short staircase even if it was only a visualization. Either that or Felicity had mentally taken them two at a time and at a dead run. But, I kept my mouth shut; Helen was the expert on this, not me.
She paused for a moment after Felicity’s finger had fully lowered. I’m not sure whose benefit the brief respite was for, but I desperately needed it myself. As relaxed as my wife appeared to be, in contrast, I was just as tense, if not doubly so. I took the opportunity to draw in a deep breath or two while seeing to it that my own ground was intact and solid.
Finally, Helen began to speak again. “I still do not want you to speak, Felicity, but I want you to open your eyes.”
Slowly, her eyelids fluttered upward, but the hypnotically imposed distance was evident in her glassy stare.
“You now see a movie screen in front of you,” Helen told her. “Playing on the screen there is a documentary. I want you to watch it closely. I want you to notice every detail… Every nuance… No matter how unimportant it may seem. While you will remember that this documentary is something that was once seen through your own eyes, you are now separate from it. At this moment, you are simply an observer.
“The subject of this documentary is an experience you had earlier this evening when you were teaching a class to your Coven mates. Something happened that only you were able to see but you have now repressed. You will see it once again as you watch this documentary before you. Remember that you are only an observer. Watch… Listen… Remember… Do not speak… When it is over, you will raise your index finger again to let me know.”
I watched Felicity’s expressionless face as she stared, unblinking into the dim room, looking not at, past, nor even through Helen. For all intents and purposes, we did not exist for her at this moment in time. The mental picture playing out before her was all that occupied her world.
After a long moment, there was a thin, nasal whimper. At first I glanced around, looking to see if one of the dogs had migrated from the bedroom and wanted to be let out. But, when it sounded again, slightly stronger this time, I easily pinpointed it as coming from my wife.
I focused my attention solely on Felicity as I watched her respirations steadily increase. They were coming as a series of rapid, shallow breaths that soon became the palpitating rhythm of loosely harnessed panic. I shot a concerned glance at Helen, and she gently shook her head.
“It is all right, Rowan,” she whispered. “This is to be expected. She is fine.”
Without a word, I returned my gaze to my wife and watched her shallowly puffing out the breaths as she continued to whimper. Still, she stared straight ahead, attention fixed upon a horror only she could see.
Her eyes were glistening with dampness, and a single tear broke loose from where it had welled and began trickling down her right cheek. It was rapidly followed by another, and then a second stream began flowing from the left. Her body tensed, and the whimpering grew into what sounded like a stifled scream that was repeated not once, but twice.
I was just about to turn to Helen again when Felicity let out a sudden heavy sigh that bespoke relief. I watched on as her body relaxed and her breathing slowly returned to the earlier slow, even rhythm that had accompanied the onset of the trance.
In a single, easy motion my wife stretched her finger upward into the air.
CHAPTER 18:
“Thank you, Felicity,” Helen said. “Lower your finger now and relax.”
Felicity’s face remained slack, but her finger levered back downward without so much as a tremble. Her tension had more than just visibly ebbed; all evidence of it had disappeared but for the tear trails that still dampened her cheeks. For me, however, the expectant silence that fell into step behind her muffled display of anguish was causing my hairs to bristle.
“You should relax too, Rowan,” Helen told me.
“Easier said than done,” I replied. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“What’s up, white man,” Ben asked, still sitting at the dining room table. “You goin’ all la-la?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Something just feels strange.” I paused for a moment and then let out a forced sigh. “I don’t know… It might just be me. It seems like nothing ever feels right anymore.”
“Well,” Helen spoke up, “from a clinical point of view, the session is going very well. In fact, what you just saw should have been the worst of it.”
“Should have been?” I asked. “The word should doesn’t exactly evoke an air of extreme confidence for me, Helen.”
“Yes, I understand that,” she replied. “Let me explain. What she has experienced will certainly still have emotional consequences tied to it, but at this point it is merely information. She is no longer watching the repressed memory play out; therefore, the connection with it is somewhat dulled. It will not be as intense as re-experiencing it.”
“Okay,” I replied, trepidation still evident in my voice. “So what now? Do you wake her up?”
“No, not yet,” she shook her head as she answered. “Hypnosis is no more perfect than the supernormal incidents that you are prone to, Rowan. While I have given her a post-hypnotic instruction to remember what she has now re-witnessed, some detail may still be lost upon awakening. What we do now is attempt to retrieve the information by having her recount it to us while still in a trance state.”
She leaned to the side and reached for her purse, which she had stowed beneath the edge of the coffee table. After rummaging around for a moment, she withdrew her hand, and in it was a micro cassette recorder. She quickly popped it open, checked the tape, then closed the cover and tested the buttons.
“For an actual forensic hypnosis session, I would have been better prepared,” she informed us. “We actually should have been videotaping the entire process, from the initial interview through termination of the session. However, for our purposes, I believe a brief audio recording will suffice.”
“This ain’t goin’ into court if that’s what you’re talkin’ about,” Ben offered from across the room.
“Precisely,” Helen returned, then momentarily shifted her focus back to me. “Truly, Rowan, you can relax now.”
“I’ll relax when this is over,” I told her.
She gave only a knowing nod as a reply. She was no stranger to the inner workings of my brand of emotionally imbued logic, so she knew she wasn’t going to be able to talk me down.
She activated the recorder and laid it on the end table with the microphone directed toward Felicity.
“Now, Felicity,” she began. “I want you to speak now, and tell us what you have just seen. Start at the beginning and take your time.”
“Candee is arguing with RJ again. She just isn’t working out.” Even though her face remained blank, Felicity began speaking as if she had been carrying on a conversation with us all along. I immediately noticed a thread of reluctance running through her voice. “There’s simply too much friction between her and the others. She doesn’t even seem to care how a Coven works. I don’t want to talk to her about this, but I’m just going to have to. I need to tell her she should seek another group. Row, I wish you were here to do it. You’re so much better at letting people down easy than I am.”