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Authors: Eleanor Green

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Torn

BOOK: Torn
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Torn

 

 

 

by Eleanor Green

 

 

 

COPYRIGHT 2014 by Eleanor Green

Smashwords Edition

Contact Information:
Contact@authoreleanorgreen

All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Art by
Kiley Murphy

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher/editor does not
have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for
author or third-party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of
this book via the Internet or via any other means without the
permission of the author is illegal and is punishable by law.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not
participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted
materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Also Available in Print.

Eleanor Green Publishing, 2013

 

Published in the United States of
America

 

ISBN-10: 0989644626

ISBN-13: 978-0-9896446-2-4

 

 

 

 

 

For my husband,
Kiley

the best of
both worlds.

Acknowledgements:

 

 

I owe a debt of gratitude to those who
were so generous with their time and expertise:

 

My beta readers, critique
partners, bloggers, and book reviewers

thank you for your honesty and
support.

 

Liz Aguilar with Book Peddler’s
Editing for the countless hours spent tweaking this
book.

 

For my author friends who took time
away from telling their own stories to promote, email, participate
in giveaways, join my pity parties, and throw confetti across the
states when it was time to celebrate. Your friendship is
invaluable.

 

To the readers, friends, and family
that have shared their excitement in this journey.

 

I would especially like to thank my
family for allowing me to disappear into my fictional world,
fending for themselves until I came back to reality again. The
stories in this book wouldn’t have been told if it weren’t for the
virtually infinite cups of Earl Grey, brewed and brought to me by
my wonderful assistants/children, Jordan Olivia and
Hunter.

 

 

 

 

 

You call me still your
life—oh! Change the word—

Life is as transient as
the inconstant sigh:

Say rather I’m your soul;
more just that name,

For like the soul, my love
can never die.

~Byron

 

 

One

 

 

 

 

Apprehension overpowered Katie. Her
heart beat rapidly in her chest, encouraging her notion to run.
Before she could flee the lobby and seek refuge in the stairwell,
the office door swung open.


Please, come in,” Dr.
Laura Burkhart said, her mauve painted lips curled up in an
inviting smile. She was a petite woman with a heart shaped face and
flaxen hair.

Katie stepped into the psychologist’s
office and glanced around the room. The office was simply decorated
in creams and light blues. A side table adorned with a lamp, box of
tissues, and a burning candle, hugged each chair. The aroma of
pumpkin spice wafted through the room, struggling to mask the smell
of fresh paint. Katie took the offered seat across from Dr.
Burkhart and accepted a glass of water.

Katie nervously picked at a hangnail
as she watched the condensation drip down the glass of water
sitting on the table next to her. Her muscles tensed, finding it
difficult to relax in the overstuffed cream chair. Taking refuge
behind the curtain of her long, dark hair, she resisted the urge to
tuck it behind her ear.

Dr. Burkhart sat down. She tucked her
right foot behind her left heel, causing her knees to fall slightly
to the right. Aware of her own legs, Katie drew her knees together.
It was an effort to keep them together, her muscles fought against
the unnatural position.

The session began slowly at first, a
getting-to-know-you period, and then the hard questions
came.


What can you tell me
about your past, Katie?”


I’m not sure I’m ready to
talk about it,” she answered, concentrating on the dead skin
surrounding her over-picked thumb.


I understand you’re
having nightmares—how often, and are they different or
recurring?”


It’s usually one of two
nightmares. I’m either a little girl being pulled out of the arms
of my mother and taken away, or someone’s hurting me—that’s the one
that wakes my grandmother.”


Everything you tell me is
kept in confidence,” Dr. Burkhart affirmed. “I will not, and cannot
legally, repeat anything you say to me.” She waited for her
response, but Katie remained stoic. When she saw the vacancy in the
girl’s eyes, she knew Katie wasn’t going to open up, but it wasn’t
necessary to get the job done. “Would you like to heal, and stop
the horrors of your past from ever haunting your mind
again?”

Katie nodded. “How can you do
that?”


Through
hypnosis.”


I thought shrinks liked
to rehash past memories,” Katie began as she looked quizzically at
Dr. Burkhart. “Make you talk about them forever, and finally teach
you how to deal with it.” She slumped back in the chair and folded
her arms.


In most cases, yes. Yours
is different. You’ve experienced too much pain and horror. I think
it would be in your best interest if we calmed the storm in your
mind—give you a fighting chance at a normal life.”


Are you telling me you
can just make it all go away . . . what’s the catch?” Katie
narrowed her eyes. Nothing in life was easy or free. There was
always a cost or a tradeoff.


No catch, Katie. I only
need your verbal consent. I know you’ve not had any reason to
trust, but I give you my word . . . I
can
help you.”

Katie shrugged.
I guess I don’t have anything to lose.
“Okay.”


Come and lie down,” she
said, directing Katie to the sofa against the wall. Careful not to
rush her, she waited for Katie’s slow gait to cross the room and
descent onto the couch. She could see the lack of trust and
insecurity in Katie’s muscles and her clenched jaw. If she pushed
too fast, too far, she was sure her client would bolt.

Dr. Burkhart spoke in a soft, calming
tone, “Just relax and listen to the sound of my voice. Starting
with your legs, feel your muscles relax. Moving upward, let your
abdomen calm. Now your shoulders are completely relaxed, feel the
tension in your neck loosen, your arms feel weightless. You feel so
light you could float through the air. That’s it, relax, and feel
your eyes getting heavy. You’ve been through a lot and your body is
tired, so very tired. All you want to do is relax and sleep. You’re
so sleepy . . . very sleepy . . .”

It took nearly ten minutes to put
Katie under. Dr. Burkhart kept her voice soft and calm when she
spoke, “Katie, I want you to go back to when you were seven years
old. Envision your parents’ faces. Do you see them?”


Yes.” Her voice sounded
distant and monotone.


I want you to make them
disappear.” She watched Katie’s body tense. “It’s okay, they’re not
real. They’re only images, like drawings. You can take your hand
and erase them.”

Dr. Burkhart spent two hours erasing
each bad memory. “Now we’re going to fill in the blanks, Katie.
Your parents, Daniel and Celia Harrington were in a car accident
when you were two years old.”

Katie’s body tensed and
tears pooled in the corner of her closed lids. “It’s all right,
you’ve had a wonderful life with your grandmother . . . you and
Gram have a special bond. Let’s talk about your childhood growing
up with Gram. Every Christmas you see the
Nutcracker
ballet and come home to
Wassail. You love the smell of hot cider and cloves wafting through
the house. Your favorite game is Scrabble and your favorite movie
is
Pride and Prejudice.”

Dr. Burkhart went over the list of
memories that were typed out for her, carefully installing them in
Katie’s mind. She had to cover the recent move from Raleigh, North
Carolina to York, Maine, so Katie could have a fresh start in a new
town. “You’re excited about the new move, an opportunity to meet
new people and make new friends. You weren’t happy in Raleigh, it
was hard for you to make friends when you didn’t make the cheer
squad. But you’ll miss your friend, Abigail, and will continue to
keep in touch with her through email for a short time.” Dr.
Burkhart smirked at the genius behind the detailed plan. She
wondered how long, if at all, her boss’s friend, Elizabeth would be
able to keep up the farce of emailing her own granddaughter under
the alias of Abigail.


Abigail,” Katie repeated,
each syllable rolling off her thick-with-sleep tongue.

Four hours was the longest Dr.
Burkhart had ever kept anyone under hypnosis. There were so many
details to cover, and she hoped Katie’s mind could handle all of
the new information.


Katie, you’re going to
wake up soon. We’ve had a nice meeting about college choices.
You’ll apply to Princeton, Yale, Harvard, and Cornell. I’m going to
count backwards from five. When I say one, you will wake up feeling
refreshed and happy. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .
one.”

Katie opened her eyes and yawned. She
covered her mouth and apologized, “I’m sorry, how rude of
me.”


Please, don’t apologize.”
Dr. Burkhart waved her hand in the air. “Choosing which schools to
apply for is unnerving. I know it was a hard decision, but I think
you’ve made wise choices.”


Thanks. I’m excited. Now
I just need to make it through my last year and a half of high
school. Starting a new school is intimidating.”

 

 

Two

 

 

 

 

 

Holding her head high,
Katie left the principal’s office with her new schedule, locker
combination, and a stack of books that gave her an unattractive
gait. She read each locker number until she found one-zero-six.
Fumbling with the lock, the top three books in the stack slid out
of her arms, making a loud
thwack!
as they hit the floor. Katie could feel the eyes
of the students on her. If it were a full-sized locker, she would
have climbed in and shut the door behind her. Before she could bend
down to pick up the books, she heard her voice.


Are you practicing for
the circus, trying to juggle everything?”

Katie looked up to see a mouthful of
white teeth smiling at her.


I’m Maggie, Maggie
McKellen. You must be the new student. Your locker is right next to
mine.” Without asking, she took the schedule out of Katie’s hands
and looked it over. “We have English Lit together!”


Oh,” Katie began, unsure
of how to respond to the bubbly blonde standing before her. “I’m
Katie Harrington.”

 

 

 

***

Junior and senior year of high school
flew by thanks to Maggie. Katie was drawn to her outgoing
personality and they became friends quickly.

Maggie was more interested than Katie
was in boys. Katie found them immature, and something about the way
they looked at her made her uneasy. She was envious of the
popularity Maggie gained by dating the right boys, but locking lips
with any one of those pigs from school wasn’t worth it as far as
Katie was concerned.

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