Hope's Vengeance (16 page)

Mary could barely understand what Hope was trying to say, the consonants weren’t pronounced, but it soon dawned on her from the body movement that she was being forced to perform oral sex. Her eyes were wide, petrified, she was struggling to breathe, trying to speak, trying to get her abuser away, and Mary’s heart jumped, sickness gnawing at the pit of her stomach. She swallowed hard as she continued to witness the vile attack, checking the tape was recording twice so her client would never have to experience this horror in regression again.

The room became calm, Hope’s body slumped, and no more words were required. Mary’s pure, chocolaty voice crooned back through the room as she gently brought Hope away from the re-birthed nightmare, ready to deal with the forthcoming trial of police stations and statements.

Hope opened her eyes, the blue shining crystal-like, warming the room, and the enigmatic smile was on her lips once more. Mary began to rewind the tape, trying hard to avoid Hope’s eyes, unsure how to deal with the aftermath having never experienced such a show before. “Do you remember what just happened?”

The blueness darkened into ebony, eyes dead and with no soul, yet strangely still on fire. But the smile on her lips was constant. “I remember everything.” Her calmness was unnerving, and Hope’s presence in the room suddenly made Mary uneasy. She had no idea what to say, the woman in front of her had suffered greatly, but Mary could feel the danger in her aura too. Hope was a victim, that was without a doubt, but she was also a fierce competitor, and Mary wanted her away from her treatment room as soon as possible.

Luckily for her, Hope was in no mind to prolong the session either. She checked the tape had recorded soundly before leaving her number, and stating that the police would probably be in touch.

Mary shut the main door behind Hope as soon as she could without being rude. She rushed back to the room and opened the window wide, despite the freezing winds, just to clear the oppression from the atmosphere. Leaning out, she took a deep breath, another, another, resolving to take a sleeping tablet that night to block out any repercussions from this hideous session.

Session Twelve

Although the room was stiflingly warm, there was a chilly air between Hope and Dawn. They’d politely greeted each other, they both had a steaming coffee, but neither were talking, and neither appeared to want to. Restless on both sides of the table, playing with hair tendrils, rubbing legs, finger games, picking at clothes, fidgeting to avoid speech.

Dawn knew it was her job to get the session going, but she had no idea where to start. There was an aura about Hope that had never been apparent before, a dark cloud full of peril, full of vengeance. Something had happened in the past seven days, and Dawn needed to root out what it was, but it was clear that Hope wasn’t about to be freely forthcoming. “I see you’ve dyed your hair.” It was an icebreaker, but a bit pathetic, and Dawn chastised herself.

“Yes.” Bored.

She tried again, keeping her face friendly, smiling. “Are you ready for Christmas?” Hope nodded, completely disinterested. “Yes.”

Dawn resolved that she had some hard work over the next hour, and inside she was bristling. “Just two days, eh! Are the kids looking forward to it?”

Hope shot a deflating glare at Dawn. “Of course.”

Suddenly Dawn was disgruntled, really didn’t have the patience to spend and entire hour prompting this woman, and for a brief second she fantasised of cancelling the session and going to the pub with her colleagues for a Christmas drink instead. “Look, Hope, something’s happened in the past week, why don’t you tell me about it instead of wasting the hour.” She knew she should be easier on her, but she was annoyed.

Hope let out a deep sigh, more irritated than rueful. “I’ve done a lot of homework this week, it’s been very revealing, but I’m not sure I want to talk to you about it.”

Dawn leaned forward, her face quizzical. “Okay, why’s that?”

She shrugged, abandoning an answer, a response didn’t seem justified, she’d said her piece.

Dawn had no idea why she suddenly lost her professionalism, she was irked, Hope grated on her today. She rolled her eyes, folding her arms in defiance. “Right. We play games, do we? We spend the next hour with me trying to guess what changes you’ve had this week. Fine, if that’s what you want, you’re the client, but don’t expect me to get overexcited about it.”

Hope was smirking, and Dawn realised she’d played into her hands. The Hope in the room today wasn’t the same Hope who’d attended the previous eleven sessions. There was a new confidence about her, a self-assurance, the neediness replaced by an almost sinister control. A light shudder travelled through Dawn, leaving an unfounded apprehension.

Hope sipped her coffee, back straight, ankles crossed neatly. She was smarter than usual, Dawn had never seen her in jeans before, and they were a good fit, exacerbating her petite figure. She had a neat, tight velveteen top teamed with a coordinating waistcoat, and knee high stiletto boots. Dawn’s mouth gaped open as it occurred to her that her own uniform was being copied, she shivered, the ominous blackness within the room weighting the air. The victorious smile was still on Hope’s lips, enigmatic, yet cold, chilling. Every instinct screamed at Dawn to get out of the room, to get as far away as possible. The realisation that she didn’t want to counsel Hope any more swooped through her mind.

“Yes you do.” Dawn’s brow crinkled, confused, she didn’t understand. “Counsel me. You do want to counsel me.”

Dawn’s eyes widened, surely she hadn’t said that out loud, if she had, she had no recollection of it. Was this another game? Was it a coincidence? Where did it come from? “What do you mean?” Her voice was weak, questioning, with a light touch of panic.

“You can’t leave me now, Dawn, we’re too good together. We’re a team, we work well.”

She studied the new woman before her, the mahogany waves that reflected the light, subtle, yet effective, make up, bringing out her natural beauty without appearing brassy. With an uncanny ability to read minds. She chose her words, willing away the trepidation. “Who said anything about leaving?”

“I could see it in your face, you don’t feel comfortable with me today, I’m worrying you.”

Her irritation was back, replacing the misplaced fear. “Rubbish!” Gently she shook her head from side to side, there were character traits in her client that grated on her massively, and Dawn knew her temper was about to snap if she didn’t challenge Hope “Look, I’m fed up with this, I don’t want games. I just don’t. I’m here to counsel you, and if you don’t want, or need counselling, why don’t we just move on and get on with our Christmas shopping?”

“Wow! Time of the month, is it!”

The instantaneous retort drew an angry glare, and Dawn, her patience tried intolerably, jumped up to the door, opening it wide. “Come on. Session over.”

The smile didn’t wane, and Dawn desperately wanted to dodge from the mesmerising blue that transfixed her, and forced her to close the door and seal their privacy again. Hope’s voice was light, but assertive. “I want you to come on a journey with me, I want you to meet someone.”

Dawn sat back in her chair, resigned. “That’s not how we…”

“It may not be, but we’ve never followed the sheep in our sessions before, so why start now!”

She was scared, begging herself to ignore the temptation to break the rules. But her willpower was gone, as empty as the tone of her voice. “When?”

Hope’s expression remained unreadable, she shook her head slightly, an unchecked bathe in her victory, and the thick mahogany locks flowed like liquid over her shoulders. “Tomorrow evening.”

Dawn chuckled incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s Christmas Eve, I’ve got a gig with…”

“A gig?” Now Hope was leaning forward with intrigue.

Dawn sighed, more unprofessionalism. Now she’d let some of her personal life into the room and become a touch vulnerable. She decided not to elaborate. “Yes, so I can’t go anywhere with you, sorry.”

“You can. I’m driving to a place called Potton in Bedfordshire, I’m attending midnight mass at St Peter’s Church.” She revealed the calculated agenda so matter-of-factly, the cold, clinical delivery pulsing another shudder through Dawn’s body.

She crossed her arms, trying to restrain the shiver, and her voice was wary, light. “You’ve found him, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Griffin Hall, rector at St Peter’s Church, Potton.”

“Hope, what are you planning? You know you can’t break the law, it won’t do you any favours.”

Hope chuckled, the tinkling pretty, almost concealing the sardonic undertone. “Who said anything about breaking the law! I just want to go and see what he’s like, how he plays it, if he’s got any more skeletons in his cupboard. I want you to see him.”

Dawn downed her cold coffee, grimacing at the bitterness. “Nope, no can do. I’ve cancelled too many gigs recently, the lads would shoot me.”

Hope’s blue hooked the pools of hazel, and Dawn couldn’t pull away from the link, she was unwillingly mesmerised. Hope had dazzled her, imbibed her, and she was incapable of escaping. “You will come with me. Tell me where you’re playing, I’ll meet you there and we’ll drive down after the show.”

Still caught in the headlights, Dawn wanted to object. The gig, her band, that was her private life, Hope shouldn’t be party to her personal affairs. She tried to break from the spell, but the bind was too strong, she remained transfixed by the intense, sparkling eyes. “Hope, no.”

“You know, if you’re any good I could have a word with Happiness about fixing you up a date with a scout from EMI.”

Every bone in her body wanted to object, she knew she was being bribed, and she didn’t want to go driving on Christmas Eve to some stupid church ceremony, she wanted to get hammered with the lads. “We’re playing a set at eight, at The Farmer’s Arms, in town. Hope, I’m not sure this a good idea.”

The smile looked genuine, but the atmosphere didn’t lighten any. “It’s a great idea. I was regressed this week, on Monday.” Dawn gasped, now she was getting the picture. “I relived the first assault, assuming there was more than one.” There was no response, Dawn was dumbfounded. “It explains so much. All the things we’ve talked about in here, my parents, their messy divorce, my ex husbands and their mistreatment, the rapes, they’re just party to this. I’ve subconsciously put myself in the position of being used, abused by people, because I didn’t feel worthwhile, and it’s all down to what Griffin did when I was a child, and my mother subsequently covering it up.”

“That’s a fair summary, there’s probably a lot of truth in it.” Dawn was gaining a smidgeon of control back.

“The hypnotherapist taped the regression, I haven’t listened to it back, but it’s vile stuff, I remember it as it was happening. Griffin Hall is a sadistic, revolting individual.”

“Are you going to go to the police?” The room darkened, a roll of thunder clapped outside the building, and a deluge began to hammer against the window. Normally a lover of thunderstorms, this time the atmosphere was sinister, it brought goose-bumps to Dawn’s arms.

Hope was unperturbed, seemingly the new degree of control she was applying throughout her life now. “It was twenty five years ago. I’ll give the tape to the police, give them my story, they’ll listen and say ‘dear, dear’, then they’ll interview him, he’ll deny it, and that will be it over. What’s the point?”

Dawn thumped the arm of the chair. “God, Hope, you really piss me off with that attitude. You took the same stance with your first rape. Look, if you don’t report it, you have no hope of stopping him, if you do, there’s a chance, even if it’s a small one, that you can. He’s probably still doing it to other little girls, you know that.”

“And that’s my responsibility, is it! He assaulted me, so I have to bear the brunt of his actions for the rest of my fucking life, do I! Put yourself in my position, Dawn, how would you feel if you were in my shoes, knowing some idiot fucked you when you were seven, knowing you were violated, and disbelieved when you tried to get help.”

“I know exactly how you feel because it happened to me, in my case it was my uncle, my father’s brother, and as a result the only member of my family who still keeps in contact with me is my brother.”

The words had tumbled out urgently, and she knew she’d gone too far. Silence hung in the oppressed room, weighing down the air, the two women stunned at the admission.

The thunderstorm raged against the window, fiery swoops of lightning hastily followed by a bass drum roll, the rainy percussion the accompaniment. The two women sat, eyes occasionally meeting, expressions of knowledge and mutual understanding fleeting back and forth. As the minutes ticked by, it became apparent to Dawn that releasing this intimacy was a progressive thing to do in Hope’s case, albeit tawdry to her work, because Hope now held a new respect and understanding with her. Dawn was no longer the enemy, the one who pretended to know but had no idea of the depth of feeling.

“Did you have counselling?” A small wisp of a voice.

Dawn nodded without vigour, equally haunting. “Pat Hinds. Deceased.”

Hope gasped audibly, throwing her hand to her mouth as she looked away. “Shit. Now I know why you were so upset, she saved you, she was your hero.”

“He did it up until I was thirteen. I fell pregnant with his baby. I tried to tell my parents it was his, but they thought I was covering up for a boy at school or something. They forced me to have an abortion. I didn’t want it. I can’t have kids now, it was botched and left me infertile.” Dawn’s jaw set firm, the story was deeply hurting her, regardless of the extensive time she’d spent in therapy. “I went to university to study English Language, but changed to Psychotherapy after Pat had counselled me. She’d made a difference to me, she’d changed my life, and I wanted to help other people like that. I really want to help you. Now you can see that I do understand you, what you’ve been through.” She patted her heart. “I feel for you in here.”

“I’ve been cruel to you, then, challenging you like I do. You’re one of the sisters and I’ve mistreated you.” Hope’s pain appeared to be genuine.