Page 38 of Heart of a Killer

The panic in my chest tightens. I knew Dr. Benjamin wouldn’t believe me, just like Mom. No one believes me.

“Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?”

I shake my head, and he continues.

“Well, it’s where your mind fractures off into another personality as a way to protect you. This is especially true for trauma victims. It’s often confused with multiple personality disorder.” He writes in his notepad again before asking, “Now, Leland, what is your first memory of Josh?”

Dad running me over with a car is the first memory I’ve recovered of Josh. The daunting realization of everything weighs heavily on me.Josh is me? I am Josh?

“I don’t know.”

For some reason, I can’t tell the doctor. Maybe it’s self-preservation, but I can’t give this to him. I just can’t give that piece.

“Okay, well, I think...” He pauses, as if what he’s about to say might be too much for me.

“What?” The panic is rising like bile in my throat, and the composure I’ve been holding onto is crumbling. “Tell me,” I say louder than I anticipated.

The doctor licks his lips before speaking. “I think pain is your trigger. If we can inflict more pain on you, then maybe we can crack your mind open further, exposing your true identity.” Clearing his throat, he takes a swig of the water from his desk. “This may be a traumatic experience, and I must warn you that this will still be experimental. Your mind is protecting itself. There is no telling what we might uncover in the process.”

My head is moving with an answer before my brain even begins to process what he is telling me. “I want this.”

* * *

“I’mglad you were willing to try my experimental treatment,” Doctor Benjamin says as he sets up the chair.

We are back down in the basement of the ward, but at the back end, where one chair sits welded to the concrete floor. He has candlelight down here, illuminating the hidden door’s outline. The one I discovered last time when I was trying to get back upstairs.

I think about Skylar, how her skin flushed, and how her lips parted when she moaned.

The doctor waves his hand in my face, breaking me out of my trance. “Hey, Leland. You aren’t backing out of this now, are you?”

“No, no, sorry.”

I make my way farther into the room, the smell of rust and mildew overwhelming my senses. My sneeze is loud enough to startle the dust from the rafters above. Looking up, I see the look of disgust on the doctor’s face as he wipes the particles from his jacket.

“Sorry, son. This section of the ward is old and has been unused for some time now.”

Shrugging it off, I walk toward the chair. “Should I sit?”

“Yes, go ahead, and I will strap you in and hook you up to the convulsion machine.”

“Ummm, the what?”

“It will deliver high volts of electricity to your brain, hopefully releasing some of those memories your mind is keeping locked away.”

Letting out a sigh, I give him a curt nod to proceed. This is what I want. I need to know at whatever cost. Ineedto know.

The doctor begins strapping my feet and wrists to the chair, and I tense at being restrained.

“Relax, Leland, this is to help prevent you from losing control like last time.”

The straps are worn, and the breaks in the leather are rough. They cut into my wrists as the doctor continues to lock me in. Once he’s done, he paints gel into my hair and attaches cords to my head. The cool gel sends a shiver through my body, making it seem even colder in this dank basement.

The doctor sets up a chair in front of me and sits with his legs crossed, a notepad and remote in his hand. My mind is dazed through the whole process until he speaks.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you some questions, and if you can’t answer them, I’ll send a volt of electricity to your scalp. As we go along, the questions will get harder.”

“What happens if I can’t answer, even after the shock?”

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