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“It’s okay, Clara,” Dr. Chan’s voice remained calm and controlled. “It’s time to wake up now, okay? As we did before, I’m going to count to ten, and I want you to imagine each part of your body waking up, starting with your toes and moving up to your head. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”
When the doctor reached ten, Clara’s eyes blinked open, still full of tears, and when Jonathon put his arms around her, she wrapped hers so tightly around his neck he could hardly move. “It’s okay, Clara,” he soothed. “You did great. Really great. I'm so proud of you.” Clara cried in his arms for several minutes, and when her tears were spent, she rested heavily against him.
“Clara, over the next few days, you might have more memories start to return to you. I’m going to give you my number; you can call me any time you need to, day or night,” Dr. Chan told her. “I recorded this session, Clara—are you happy for me to give a copy to Jonathon and Allina?” Clara nodded. “Ali, how about we go into my office, and I’ll get you a copy.”
Once they were alone, Jonathon sat Clara up so he could see her better. “Why don’t I call Naomi, have her drive you to Thomas’ funeral instead of you taking a cab,” he suggested, not liking the idea of Clara being alone when she looked so emotionally drained.
Blinking slowly, Clara’s eyes cleared, and she gave him a small smile. “I really need to go on my own. I'm so confused about Tommy; I need some time to figure things out in my head, reconcile the two sides of someone I considered a close friend. The funeral is only going to be me and Mrs. Karl anyway.”
Brushing a stray lock of hair off her still wet cheek, his fingers lingered on her soft skin. “Don’t go getting all embarrassed on me, but I think you're amazing.”
She leaned forward to rest her forehead on his. “I think you're kind of amazing, too.”
“Perfect,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, “I was hoping you did.”
* * * * *
1:32 P.M.
“Come on, Katie,” Jimmy pleaded. “Help me.”
“What’s the use?”
“There has to be a way out,” he insisted.
“We’ve already checked out the whole place,” Katie protested.
Katie had given up. She just sat there, curled up in a ball, in the corner of the attic. Jimmy couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t—he’d find a way out of here.
Jimmy knew he’d been stupid to fall for the old lady’s trick. Of course, she didn’t have a grandson. He should have known better than to talk to a stranger. How many times had his mother cautioned him about it? And teachers at school, too—they were always talking about how to be safe.
And what had he done?
He’d gone and ignored it all and look where that had gotten him.
Trapped in some weird dollhouse room.
At least that was what it reminded him of. A doll’s house. The furniture was all small, kid-size, and all wooden. Just like the kind of stuff he’d played with in preschool whenever they played house. It looked old too; there were dents and bumps all over everything.
Jimmy wasn't sure how long he’d been here. There were no real windows, just ones that someone had painted on the walls, so he couldn’t tell when it was daytime and when it was nighttime. It felt like months had passed since he’d first woken up, but it probably wasn't more than a day or two.
Were his parents looking for him? He thought they would be. His mom must have been so scared when she finished working on her paper for school and came to get him, only to find he wasn't there. Jimmy hated knowing that she must be frightened and worried wondering who had taken him and where he was. Were his parents fighting about it? They fought a lot. Because his dad lost his temper a lot. He never hit them, but he yelled all the time, especially when he was stressed.
Jimmy was a take charge kind of kid. He could be bossy, which was why he didn’t have a lot of friends at school—but he was also smart and confident, which was why the kids always liked working with him on school projects. He was also used to being treated like an adult; his dad didn’t like to baby him and given that his mom had diabetes, he sometimes had to act like an adult. One time his mom’s sugar levels had dropped so low that she had a seizure. He had called an ambulance, did what he could for his mom, and taken care of his baby sister until help arrived. He’d been scared, but he’d done what needed to be done. If he’d been able to cope with that, then he could cope with this, too.
“Come on, Katie,” he urged. “Do you want to still be here when they come back?”
Repulsed, she shuddered and shook her head.
Neither of them wanted to see the man and woman again.
They were creepy. They were old, about the same age as his grandparents. The lady had a big, red mark on her face, and the man was sick. When they came, they did bad stuff. Grown-up stuff that shouldn’t be done in front of children. Jimmy knew it was sex, even though he wasn't quite sure what exactly sex was. He was scared that one day they were going to do those things to him and Katie, and he didn’t want to wait around to find out if he was right. He wanted to go home. Now. And he was determined to find a way out of here, and Katie was going to help him.
Taking hold of her hand, he tried to pull her to her feet. Katie had been here longer than him, but she hadn’t done anything about finding a way to escape. When he’d first woken up in here, she’d been in this same corner, curled up in a ball, just like she was now. In fact, other than when the man and woman came and played with them, pretending they were dolls, or when Katie had to use the toilet—the real one, over in the far corner—she hadn’t moved from this spot at all.
“Let’s go, Katie. We can find a way out of here, I know we can. Don’t you want to go home?”
Katie sniffed and nodded.
