Page 64 of Torment

“No. I was going to, but that was actually the same day I was kidnapped.”

“I see. Was there any sign of a break-in?”

I shook my head. “No. They got in and got out while I was asleep. Judging by what the note said, I think it was my father or someone associated with him. It said they were going to play with me for a while before taking me.”

“Do you know the exact wording of it?”

I nodded. When I returned to my apartment a few weeks ago, I found the note and memorized it. “Yes. It said: I’m going to get you, you nasty little bitch. You need to be punished, and you know it. But I won’t take you yet. I’ll just let you know I’m here. Watching. Waiting. Always. I haven’t decided exactly how long I’ll play with you yet, but you should know it’s coming. Soon.”

Beck’s eyes widened. “That must’ve been very frightening,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “And you’re sure there were no signs of a break-in?”

“None.”

“So the person who left the note probably had a key,” she said, tilting her head to the side. There was an odd gleam in her eyes, like she knew something important but didn’t want to reveal it yet.

I chewed on my bottom lip for a second. “Or they were just really good at breaking and entering without being noticed.”

“Perhaps.” Beck leaned to her right and switched off the recorder. “Jolie, can I be frank with you?”

“Sure.”

“You were obviously being stalked, and I think you’re right—whoever was doing that and leaving all the notes is probably the one who took you. But I don’t think it was your father or anyone else from the cult.”

I shrugged. “I get it. Everyone thinks they’re dead. It makes me sound crazy.”

“No, not crazy. You’re searching for answers after a traumatic experience. It makes sense that your mind is going through every single person from your past who might want to hurt you.”

“Well, I can’t think of anyone else who would want to.” I looked away again, still despising myself for all the lies.

“Okay. I understand.” Beck’s hand hovered over the recorder switch for a second, and then she pulled it away again. “One more thing before I turn this back on. I know it isn’t my place to talk about, so you don’t have to answer, but I just thought I’d ask. Have you been seeing a therapist since your return? I know the doctors recommended it.”

I nodded. “Yes. My friend Lauren recommended me to a good one. I’ve been seeing her every few days.”

That was actually the truth. I hadn’t told the therapist about Mason and my captivity with him, obviously, but I’d been telling her about all my other issues. She was helping me work through everything effectively, and she’d given me great coping mechanisms to utilize whenever I felt a New Eden flashback coming on.

She’d really stressed the importance of support networks when dealing with tough stuff. From that, I realized my feelings of regret, shame, and guilt over my past didn’t just stem from my traumatic time at New Eden as a child. It also stemmed from my perceived abandonment by Mason and the lack of closure when I found out I was pregnant. If I knew eight years ago that Mason supported and respected my decision, I would’ve been able to deal with everything in a far healthier way. I wouldn’t have constantly wobbled from one opposing viewpoint to the other, never quite knowing whether or not I did the right thing.

Beck nodded and smiled. “That’s good. Therapy can be very helpful for people dealing with trauma.” She paused and cocked her head to the side. “You know, speaking of trauma, I’ve actually worked on a couple of cases in the past where the victims were so traumatized that they blocked everything out. Apparently it’s quite a common psychological defense mechanism in situations where a victim experiences something truly shocking and awful.”

“Do you think that’s what might’ve happened to me, and that’s why I can’t remember anything?” I asked, hoping she’d latch onto that.

She was silent for a few beats. “Perhaps. I’ve also dealt with a few victims who developed certain types of captive bonding syndrome. They refused to talk about their abusers because of their perceived connection with them. They wanted to protect them.”

I stiffened. This woman was so goddamned astute. It was like she could see right through me. “What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.

“I mean I would understand and I wouldn’t blame you at all if you did remember everything that happened, and you chose to protect the person who did it. I’ve been told it’s quite a common psychological—”

I quickly cut in. “Look, I’m sorry, but you’re not a therapist or a psychiatrist, so I think you’re being very unprofessional by suggesting such a thing,” I said hotly.

Beck leaned back and held her palms up. It looked like a conciliatory gesture, but her eyes were gleaming as if she’d actually gotten the exact reaction she wanted.

“And just for the record,” I added. “I don’t have Stockholm syndrome. You can ask my therapist if you don’t believe me. So if I don’t have that, why would I protect the man who kidnapped and tortured me?”

That was the burning question. Why would I do such a thing? After everything Mason put me through over what was essentially a terrible misunderstanding… why would I protect him? Why shouldI?

But that was exactly what I was doing. I couldn’t stop.

I guess I would only be lying to myself if I said I didn’t already have an idea why I was doing it, though. It was simple. I’d realized from the recent discussions with my therapist that something was missing in my life. Something had always been missing. Someone.

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