Page 135 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

For a moment, I stand there and stare at the light blue bears.

Father, mother, child.

I close my eyes. My heart grows warm. I still wish for that, just in a different way. There are so many things I want to do better than my parents. If I had a son or daughter, I could do those things right that my mom and dad did wrong. I feel it’s my duty—funny. India Lee is probably right. Some things can never be explained properly.

For a while, I stand still, with nothing but longing and hope in my heart. A classical version of “Silent Night” emerges from the house.

Somehow, I’m glad that such a loving family lives in this house of all places. It is said that some places, after horrible events, hold on to those emotions for a long time—like a brand. Many people say they can feel the negative atmosphere. Here, however, at the end of Thorson Ave, I feel absolutely nothing of the past. No anger and no hate. At least not today. The little boy who was trapped in the basement here is free.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

She won’t come, I’m quite sure.

In nervous excitement, I walk across the parking lot of the Lodgepole Visitor Center with Grey on a leash. Back and forth, back and forth. Like a million times. The sound of my footsteps on the asphalt seems to me like the ticking of a clock running down fast. But despite my doubts, I can’t take my eyes off the only access road.

A number of vacationers have arrived during the day, families with large RVs, vacationers with backpacks and tents, lonely hikers. Just no Lou.

The air is now laced with the chill of the approaching evening and the sky is covered with a layer of gray, ragged clouds. Only in the west, does a narrow rust-red stripe stretch across the tall trees.

I anxiously glance at the clock. Shortly after five. The days are gradually growing shorter.

The dull feeling inside me steadily intensifies and becomes an iron-hard chunk. Lou would have to be completely insane to show up. That would be sick. By now she must have realized that she never really loved me. She might even have a boyfriend in Ash Springs. A red veil descends over my mind at the thought of another touching her. I gag.

No! No! No! She has no boyfriend. Lou loves me.

What if she doesn’t? my heart counters.

Always the same questions, for weeks.

I throw away the cigarette butt, stop, and grip the leash tighter.

If she doesn’t, then what will I do? Should I go back to Faro and finish my therapy as Dr. Lee suggested?

We still haven’t fully grasped the extent of your condition. Maybe there’s another split part, I hear her say. There is a lot of anger in you. Anger that you were not allowed to work out at the time.

I vented during fights.

Your adult self vented. The boy was not allowed to express his anger. He had to put up with everything. Where is his anger, his rage? Can you feel it? Hating his stepfather must be killing him.

For a moment, I think about the red mist, the voice: Move aside! I have heard these words many times during a seizure. Was that the little boy or was that my suppressed anger?

Are you now able to pronounce your stepfather’s name?

Everett Harlow Nolan, I said, my voice firm but guarded.

Good. Do you sometimes feel the need to seek revenge on Everett Nolan?

I don’t know. But, yes…yes. But that’s not sick.

Of course not. That’s normal.

Listen, I have the seizures under control. I haven’t broken anything during an attack in a long time. I even dared to order new furniture.

And yet, after the seizures, fragments of your memory are still missing. This could be an indication of another split side. You’re not healthy, Brendan.

I may never be, Dr. Lee. You even said so yourself. But if there’s a chance for me to live with Lou, I have to take it!

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