Bloody Christmas

Jamie's legs and feet were heavy as rocks as she continued to strive forward. The hot sand sunk her every step, piercing her soft skin like a thousand needles. Around her, dunes spread as the only sight in all directions. It was not morning, nor noon. Perhaps, it could be late afternoon, but it was not certain. An invisible force made Jamie pick herself up after every clumsy fall and go on, and then repeat. A soft dry breeze would erase her steps and she would be completely lost again.

Behind this dune, Jamie saw something peculiar. It made her almost wake up from this repetition, she started running like she used to run after the bus, a long time ago, in her school years, with hope in her eyes. As she reached it, she kneeled to touch it, in her disbelief.

“That shouldn’t be here. What is it anyway?”

“What do you see?” the steady voice of Dr. Elisabeth Vanderberg asked.

“It’s a green neon sign, No Exit.”

It looked like 10-15 centimeters in height and 25-30 centimeters in width, approximately. And the neon light was still on, even though it was not attached to anything.

So ironic and unfitting, in a desert of all places.

Silence, and then the sound of the wind.

The dry breeze grew stronger and stronger, and grains of sand vibrated and hovered. As Jamie turned around and saw the sandstorm, she was too close to it to run, or even do anything. Yet she ran anyway, in the opposite direction, she ran like hell itself was after her. Her heart was pounding in her chest like it was going to break out. A primal fear had long woken in her, filling and overtaking every cell in her body. And she would run, and run, and fight. Fight the storm itself, if need be, like Don Quixote fighting the windmills.

It was a huge wall made of hot, hovering sand, it felt- angry. It was hopeless, just a matter of time until it reached her. She tried hitting the sand wall, but there was no point in that. She closed her dry eyes, with disgust, and finally let the storm cover her completely.

Jamie opened her eyes to the sound of a hearth, the fireplace at her childhood home. She was sitting on a rag on the floor in front of the fireplace. The logs were cracking and providing warmth, as they filled the air with their earthy aroma. There was a ceramic pot with soup on, it filled the air with more familiar smells and memories. The cocktail of vegetable aromas of onion, carrots, celery, and pumpkin, with a mixture of herbs, and ground pepper seasoning. She remembered her mother’s recipe with a soft smile on her lips.

“What do you see now?”

“I’m home”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Nostalgic, I guess”

Jamie looked around. She decided to get up from that place and explore a bit more, it would be okay. She opened a door to the hallway and then continued walking around the building. It was not a replica of her house; it was more like a larger structure; this is what she was working on. Her own Memory Castle.

Jamie opened a door to peek through a room where she was learning how to ride her bike. It was a summer evening, in the shadow of pine trees, the aroma of the cedar trees, and the sound of cicadas. She was in the park, with a boyish short haircut and chubby cheeks. She kept falling and filling her elbows and knees with bruises and cheerfully getting up again. Jamie was proud of that past self, and she felt she had to protect her. She smiled as she closed the door softly to continue walking in the hallway. The wallpaper was a dark purple, the color of funerals. It absorbed the light and this way it made the hallway quite dark.

Jamie thought that she could perhaps only visit memories that had a positive imprint, but this would miss the whole reason for the Memory Castle and the work she had done until now with Dr. Vanderberg. No other methods had worked, not even EMDR. This was a more “innovative approach”, and Jamie was willing to try anything at that point. In fact, she would be glad if she could do it like removing a plaster.

“I am ready to go there.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She went back to the hall, and then downstairs using the gothic-styled staircase, decorated with candles and such. She opened the cellar door, it was a bit stuck, maybe this was a sign. She pushed even more, and then the heavy door creaked open.

Jamie found herself in daylight, in a moving car, and instantly she felt the impulse to gag. Her hands started to tremble, and she told herself to stay a bit longer this time. Sitting in the back of the car like a ghost, she observed herself and him in the front seats.

“Please, I want to go home”, she said.

“I will take you home, we just need to stop by my place first.”

“No, I will be late, people will look for me.”

“It won’t be too long, don’t worry.”

“Please, Martin, just stop the car, I don’t want to be here.”

“It’s dangerous, Jamie, don’t act crazy, we’re all good here.”

He was getting annoyed. The car doors were locked.

“How long do you want me to wait for you when you are there?”

“No, you will come with me, I have dinner prepared.”

She saw it was futile to make him more annoyed and tried to negotiate.

“If we have dinner, can we go?”

“Yes, you have my word. ”

“You are a lying, disgusting pig”, she wished to say and spit on the floor in front of him – but she was too afraid to do what she had in mind, even if he wasn’t real. But it was offsetting, it felt like she was back there. Some things were blurry.

The past Jamie in the front seat did her best to act like she believed him and even forced a smile.

“Okay then.”

“Good girl.”

Jamie tried to skip forward that memory, to get it over with.

Her head started pounding from the effort, and she squeezed her eyes closed in pain.

When she opened them again saw herself in that house, in the bathroom, with the door locked. Standing in front of the sink, with the water flowing down the drain.

“Think, Jamie, think” the past Jamie seemed to be saying to her reflection in the mirror.

She checked her phone; it was almost completely out of battery.

“Shit”

She tried to dial the number of her boyfriend at the time. No answer. She called again, and waited; every second felt like a century. He picked up.

“Hey,” Michael said, and then the battery died.

“Shit, shit..”

She tried to understand how she got into this mess. A colleague had offered her a ride home from work. But seemed like an ordinary person the few months they had worked together at that shop. Now he had escalated from “meh ok” to creepy, and then to scary in less than a couple of hours. She felt guilty she trusted him, but it was supposed to be just a ride home from work.

“Shit. Think. What’s up with this guy, what does he want.”

Martin was obvious about what he wanted, he had poured two glasses of whiskey in his living room and put some cheesy music to create an atmosphere. The Christmas tree's blinking lights were the only thing that seemed normal. That bastard even lit up his fireplace, in his fantasy this was a date or something. He said that food was just getting ready, and they could drink while they waited. She refused to drink or eat anything; she got up and took a glass from the cupboard for some tap water. This guy was not to be trusted anymore. Then her stomach suffered from the pain, of all this anxiety. She didn’t hide that she was unwell, but she hid the reason. She asked the way to the bathroom, and she went there with her small bag.

After a few minutes in the bathroom, to get her thoughts straight, she took a period pad from her bag and wore it. She would say that she has her period and try to make it disgusting for him, it could be believable, she just was unwell with stomach pain. She would also say about an appointment with her volunteering group, yes that would be believable, he knows those people. Less attractive reward and bigger risk, that could perhaps turn the odds in her favour.

She looked in the bathroom cupboard. In the worst-case scenario, she needed to see what was at her disposal. Cleaning chemicals, maybe she could blind him.

“Maybe I can blind him and make a run for it”, she contemplated. But making a run for it would be another difficult part. The moment she would step out of the house, the problem was his dog, furious like possessed.

She loved dogs. What Martin had done to his dog was beyond cruel. That dog seemed so antisocial and aggressive, and he was tied to the yard post all the time. When they entered the house, Martin went to the yard to unleash him and when he came back, he said about a time the dog bit the mailman and other similar stories: he would bite pretty much any visitor if it was not controlled.

Furthermore, he seemed, proud.

Her gaze fell on some aerosol tubes.

“I could work with that.”

She picked any tubes that would fit her bag without making it too suspicious.

She went back to the living room.

“Sorry it took so long, I got my period, and it’s such a mess. That explains the pain, it’s just so much blood.”

She anticipated his reaction and bullseye.

She hid her smile in another facial expression of pain while touching her stomach. The pain was real, so it was not hard to pretend.

It was much harder to hide the fear though. She clenched her hands so that they didn’t tremble, hoping it would pass off as a pain reaction in his eyes. Her knuckles were white from the pressure.

“You know, the guys down at the volunteering club are waiting for me this evening. We have our monthly administrative meeting; I can’t miss it. They’ll be waiting for me. If I leave here in twenty minutes, I can still make it on time”.

She didn’t put less time than that to not push her luck in his reaction.

“But our agreement was to eat first.”

“I’m also really hungry, I could eat like an army!”

“Picture it,” she thought. “Did you know, Michael is also in the army”

Martin seemed to get out of his fantasy of a date for a moment.

“Ah yes, I remember, which unit?”

“Special forces”

“Pfft what a joke!”, Martin replied, “I will check on the food,”

She didn’t want any surprises from him.

“I will help you.”

“Keep your eyes on the enemy.”

“No, no. But you are the guest!”, he attempted politeness

“Let me be a good guest”, she answered in a sweet manner.

“I was forced to be here, and I am getting out.”

She smiled politely.

Martin seemed pleased.

The voice of Dr. Vanderberg interrupted the unfolding flow of memories. Aeolus' windbag, Pandora's box, any way you want to call it, had been opened.

Jamie could faintly hear Elisabeth's voice, immersed in her own memory. She felt as if she had shrunk and become tiny, and trapped in her bubble, pulled by forces beyond her control.

The flow was not smooth regarding time. She was once again piecing parts together and she was getting a weird sensation of trembling extremities and chest ache.

Even within her memory she was getting flashbacks of her covered in blood but could not quite understand. Memories are not always reliable, right? Nevertheless, she was trying to get reassurance to shed some of the guilt away. It was heavy like a rock and she couldn't bear it any longer. It was excruciating.

Another flash overwhelmed her, playing like a movie right before her eyes.

Right.

Martin. He was asking how was the food. She didn't respond, politely nodding, exhausted by her efforts to look calm and smile.

Jamie didn't remember much from that moment, just the feeling of irritability building up. It was rising. She found herself cornered, and Martin had her by the neck, she remembered the exact feeling on her skin, the terror of gasping for breath. Jamie grabbed his grip with her arms and made a horizontal move to break away, grabbed the kitchen knife, and stabbed him. And again. And again. And again. She didn't count, but she didn't stop stabbing him until she was covered in blood and blacked out.

Jamie tried to open her eyes but it was like a dream she couldn't wake up from. She was trapped again. She made rush moves, and the nurses were not fast enough, she had already grabbed the pen from the table and had stabbed Dr. Vanderberg in the neck. Blood splashed and splashed like a little fountain. The pen wasn't very sharp and she put more force. Dr. Vanderberg only made a couple of gasps for air and then a painful groan, before exhaling for the last time.

When Jamie opened her eyes finally, she was standing in another pool of blood. She felt like screaming, but she opened her mouth and no voice could come out.

From the opened doors, where the nurses were running from, she could see the Christmas tree in the corridor. Blinking lights were shining bright in the corridors, and Jamie teared up contemplating their beauty, while the nurses were tying her up and injecting her with a transparent liquid. It burned as it entered her body. All she could see before everything went black was the blurry Christmas lights.

Not being aware of how long she was out, Jamie woke up. She was again seated at the chair at Dr. Vanderberg's office.

Lightheaded and disoriented, Jamie couldn't believe her eyes,

"Welcome back, Jamie. Are you ready to give it another try?"