Irresistible Fear (8 page)

Dr. Hammond continued to take notes as Emily spoke. When she finished, Dr. Hammond looked up at her again. “Well, I can definitely say I don't think you're crazy.” The doctor smiled reassuringly. She looked down at her clipboard again and then continued. Emily, I’m going to ask you some questions. Please don’t be offended by them, but they are standard when we’re dealing with the things you’re talking about here. I’m not by any means diagnosing you with anything here. Because that's not my specialty. Just trying to gather some info. Is there any family history of mental illness?”

Emily suppressed her groan. But she shook her head. “Not that I know of. Well, there’s my mom but her crazies are more about her drinking then mental illness I think.” Dr. Hammond nodded.

“Okay. You say you see things. Like what specifically?” Emily took a breath. “Well, it’s more like shadows. I'll see them out of the corner of my eye and when I look, they're gone. Not like full on hallucinations or anything and I’m never really sure I saw anything to begin with. It’s like when your eyes play tricks on you.”

“No voices? No strange noises or compulsions to hurt yourself or someone else?” Dr. Hammond’s voice took on a very clinical tone. “No, Dr. Hammond. I have no desire to hurt myself. I promise.” Emily said lightly. Dr. Hammond didn’t smile, only nodded briskly. “Good. I’m really glad to hear that.” She made a few more notes and then looked up at her again.

“Well Emily. As you probably know, nightmares are caused by a lot of things, stress being the main culprit. But also trauma can cause them. You may be experiencing a form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Sleep disturbances and paranoia are symptoms of this. But the paranoia could simply be caused by the fact that you aren’t sleeping.” Dr. Hammond put down her clipboard and rolled the chair closer to Emily. She put her hand on Emily’s arm.

“How are things at home Emily? How is your mother? Has anything happened recently that would explain the nightmares?” Emily thought hard about the question. She had always suffered from nightmares, but they were your run of the mill bad dreams. These nightmares were more like night terrors and they hadn't started until around six months ago. Emily wracked her brain thinking about what, if anything could have caused them to get worse. After a moment of thinking, she shrugged her shoulders. “Things are pretty much the same, Dr. Hammond. I can’t think of anything that would make my dreams become so horrible. But the thing is I just feel…I don’t know…sick I guess. I just feel like something is wrong with me.” She couldn’t meet the doctor’s sympathetic eyes.

Dr. Hammond removed her hand. “Well, I’d really like you to finally see that counselor I recommended to you several years ago. Mr. Simmons is one of the best in the area and has worked extensively with abuse victims. You may find him very helpful in finding some healthy coping skills.” Emily stiffened. She knew what Dr. Hammond suggested was practical and she really should check into seeing the therapist. But the truth was she just wasn’t the sort of person to unload her baggage to a complete stranger. It was hard enough telling Sasha and now Dr. Hammond about what was going on with her and she had known the both of them for a very long time.

Dr. Hammond immediately picked up on Emily’s hesitancy. “I understand that therapy is a huge leap and it’s a hard step to make. But I really think you’re at a point where it may be really effective for you.” Dr. Hammond went to her desk and rummaged around until she found a small white business card. She handed it to Emily.

Mr. Levi Simmons, LCSW was blazoned in black on the crisp white background. It felt heavy in her fingers. She quickly put it in her pocket. Dr. Hammond turned back to her. “Well, what I can do is order a series of blood tests and just see if something else comes up. Sometimes physical ailments can cause all sorts of psychological issues. That way we can rule out a physical problem.” She pulled out a prescription pad and began writing on it in her long sloping script.

“In the meantime, I’m writing you a prescription for Ambien. Take a pill twenty minutes before going to bed. I’m not big on prescribing sleep medications, but if it can help you get some sleep, then I say try it.” She ripped the sheet of paper and handed it to Emily.

Emily tucked into her pocket over top the shrink’s card. She really didn’t think she’d need either. She felt a little deflated. She hadn't expected Dr. Hammond to have the magical answer; but she admitted to herself that she had hoped for something more.

Emily stood up and began putting on her coat and hat. Dr. Hammond stood up as well and looked at Emily. “Emily. I really want you to think about going to see Dr. Simmons. I think you could really benefit from having someone to help you process your trauma. It doesn’t make you crazy for going. On the contrary, it shows you to be a wise and self-aware young lady.” She put her hand on Emily’s arm again and gave a reassuring squeeze.

Emily left the doctor’s office with no more answers than when she had gone in.

**********************

Later that night, around 8:30, her house was quiet. Her mother was thankfully not at home and Emily had just finished the last of her homework, for once. Against her better judgment, she had filled the prescription for the sleep medication. The tiny white pills sat in the brown bottle on her bedside table. She looked at them, they seemed to taunt her.

She was so worried about becoming an addict like her mother. She knew that had been her resistance to any sort of a sleep aid. Her eyes felt so heavy, her limbs seemed to weigh 100 lbs. She could barely move. She lay down on her bed, staring at her ceiling. She wanted to sleep so badly. She needed to sleep. People couldn’t function on the minimal amount of rest she was getting. Dr. Hammond was right; no wonder she was paranoid and feeling like crap.

Emily lay there on her bed for awhile, trying to stay awake, scared to go to sleep. She hated the nighttime. She dreaded sleep, as much as she longed for it. Her nightmares terrified her, made her feel so small and so helpless.

Emily rolled over onto her side, staring at the tiny bottle of pills. Finally, she made the decision. She got up and went to the bathroom. She changed into her favorite pair of pajamas and filled a glass with water, returning to her bedroom. She snapped the pad lock on her door into place. She returned to her bed and snuggled down under the covers. Then without giving the opportunity to talk herself out of it, she opened the medicine bottle and shook a pill onto the palm of her hand. In one smooth movement, she popped it into her mouth and swallowed it with a gulp of water.

There, she had done it. She lay back on her pillow and waited for the oblivion of sleep.

Chapter 8

“I thought you would never come Emily.”  At the sound of her name, she started.  She was sitting in the caverns where she worked.  It was almost entirely black, except for a light that shown from the floor of the cave.  Normally this was a comforting place for her.  Not this time, not while being here in her dreams.  And especially knowing that she wasn’t alone. 

She wanted to stand up, to move, but she couldn’t.  She could feel the cold hard rock beneath her. It was damp and made her feel chilly.  “Trouble getting to sleep?.”  The voice asked softly; his deep timbre like a caress.  Goose flesh broke out across her skin.  She wished she could see whoever was talking to her.  Her eyes peered into the shadows, straining to see something.  She also waited in dreaded anticipation for the nightmare to truly begin.  What would wait for her this time?  Corpses in varying stages of decay?    Disembowled animals?   Zombies trying to eat her brains?

“You just need to stop worrying. Relax Emily.”  The voice said playfully. Emily jumped, or at least she would have if she could freaking move.  The obvious question to ask at this point would be ‘who are you?’ or ‘what are you?’  But she didn’t ask any of those questions.  She sat quietly for a time, listening to the water drip from the ceiling and hit the rock. “Am I going to actually get to see you this time? Or will this be the same song and dance?” She asked sarcastically.

The sound of rich laughter filled the silence. It made her insides shiver in anticipation. “You want to see me?” He asked. He seemed to be teasing her. Emily rolled her eyes, feeling more at ease with the direction of this conversation. “Well, I'd like to know whose hanging out in my dreams every night.” She answered.

Suddenly, everything went black and she was plunged into complete darkness. This was one of her worst fears; being stuck down in the caves in the dark, no way to get back to the surface. Her panic took hold and her breathing became shallow and irregular. The easy confidence she had felt a moment ago was lost.

 “Stop it, damn it!” Emily didn’t know what else to do. The fear was a very real thing and it was strangling her. She could feel the chill and smell the earthiness of damp rock.  She tried to turn her head but again found she was completely immobile. 

“Why can’t I move?”  She kept trying to move her head to the side and she couldn’t.  She imagined this is what being a parapylegic felt like. Suddenly she lurched forward with the force of her straining movement. She fell face first onto the floor, getting dirt in her mouth. Well that was embarrassing. Emily sat up and wiped the grime from her face. “Not cool.” She whispered. “Sorry about that.” The voice said, sounding contrite.

“So what is this? Why don't you show yourself? Are you some ugly mutant thing?”  She asked.  “I hope you don't think so.” He answered her. Emily felt a rush of warm air scented with cinnamon and it felt like fingers brushing her hair. She shivered, not entirely with fear either.

There was an almost inaudible groan. “This is so stupid of me. But I can't help myself.” The voice whispered. His words seemed meant for himself and not directed at her.   His voice did strange things to her insides. And she liked it.

“Come on, enough with the hide and seek. We've gone this far...let me have a look.” She taunted in a way that sounded seductive. She was seriously surprising herself. Emily had the feeling she was playing with fire. But she felt a sudden surety in herself. She knew she was controlling things for once. The delicate touch of fingers danced over her skin again, up her neck to the side of her face. It should have been creepy; being touched in the dark like that...but there was something about this guy. His presence was both calming and electric. The tiny pulses of excitement made her shiver inside. Bus so did the fear. The feelings were almost indistinguishable…yet completely irresistible.
  “I don’t think that would be wise.  This is all very dangerous.”  His voice seemed to move further away.  Emily wasn’t sure where he was now.  His voice seemed to bounce off of the walls of the cavern.  An echo coming from all sides. She felt extremely frustrated. This was getting ridiculous. “Where are you going?” She yelled, cringing at the volume of her voice in the confined space.

The air stirred around her and she felt him again, a warmth against her side. “I'm not going anywhere Emily. I’m always here.  Whether you want me to be or not.”  And suddenly, just like that she was awake. 

Emily lay on her back, listening to the ticking of her clock until the soft light of morning filtered through her window, bringing her back into the real world she lived in.

Chapter 9

What was he doing?  Why had he talked to her?  Touched her? He was so drawn to her; his insides were wrapped up in knots just being in her presence. Her emotions were delicious. Maybe that's why he couldn't keep his distance.   They radiated from her like sunlight.  She wore so many vibrant colors and he drank them deeply.  Her life force was so strong, so vital.  In all the years of his existence he drank them dry.  He took their life, devoured their souls.   He was the boogey man, The Alp, the Incubus; the reason people invented fire…to keep him away.   He had crafted the personal demons of multitudes of men, women and children.  He took delight in their terror and relished their dying days.  He had been created for this very purpose, to create hell on earth.  He ate their goodness until it bloated him.    He slipped unnoticed into their sleep and reached into their buried memories to create that which would terrify them most. 

He was drawn to the afflicted and abused like a moth to a flame.  They were the easiest to take.  They often didn’t care whether they lived or died anyway.  The pain and suffering just made their end all the sweeter.  He didn’t think he was necessarily evil; it was what he was made to do.  He had no more control over that than the moon could control its ascent into the night sky. 

This new girl was spectacular in her despair.  She had obviously lived a hard life.  She wore it like a badge.  He had been drawn to her, just as he had been drawn to them all.  Drinking from her was such a rush.  It was like drinking the most refined wine.  Her dreams were particularly disturbing.   What she created for herself night after night were some of the worst images he had ever been a witness to.

Though these were her demons, not his and he just helped them along.  It was her past that cut a bloody landscape through her psyche.  She was truly a broken soul.  Yet over the last six months he had caught glimpses of something else.  She would sometimes dream of fields of flowers or a quiet beach before it was taken over by her nightmares.  It was during these times of peace that he felt something unlike anything he had ever experienced.  He found he enjoyed these times as much as he craved the depravity of her terror. 

It had continued this way for months.  He never allowed himself to be seen by her Giving her the illusion of alientation and isolation.  He would watch her despair from the sidelines; an eternal observer.  She was weakening, he could see that, even in her dreams.  The vitality she possessed was getting dimmer and dimmer.  Not noticeable at first but over time it would become more pronounced.  He was used to this, it was to be expected.  Their life for his.  It was the way of things. He had never thought to question it.