ANNOUNCEMENT: New chapters have been finished, please sign up here to receive and read the rest of the story for free.
“The only real enemy to have ever existed, is an eternal one.”
-The Road to Suicide, pg 1, line 1
*This is a work in progress. Contents of the final product may change. If you’ve found this preview confusing, an in-depth explanation of this project can be found at cavestudios.weebly.com/divine-orchestra
p.s. I suggest checking “THE BOOKS” section there to choose what book you want to read first.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
There is no universally efficacious treatment for Dissociative Identity Disorder. In theory, one attempts to move the patient towards integration. A folding of their fractured psyche. Do not attempt to reproduce any actions or treatments depicted in this book. Mental disorders are serious health issues and must be treated accordingly. This book is not intended as a substitute for the medical advice of psychiatrists. The reader should regularly consult a psychiatrist in matters relating to his/her mental health and particularly with respect to any symptoms that may require diagnosis or medical attention.
Let your mind relax.
Let your thoughts drift.
Let the bad memories fade.
You are afraid?
Don’t be. You’ll reach your own paradise.
Just let go.
Surrender yourself to your dreams.
Let them wash over you like the gentle waves of the bluest ocean.
Let them envelop you.
Imagine somewhere calm.
Imagine somewhere safe.
Don’t give up. Don’t let it beat you.
Imagine yourself … in a frozen forest.
You are standing in a clearing.
The trees around you so tall they touch the sky.
Pure white snowflakes fall all around.
You can feel them melt on your skin.
You are not cold.
There is no pain.
It cannot overcome the warmth of your beating heart.
Can you hear it?
You only have to listen.
Do you hear it slowing?
You are slowing it.
You are in control.
Remember this, Alice.
When reality is a prison, your mind can set you free.
You found solitude and tranquility in a part of your mind.
A place hidden from the outside world.
Beneath layers and layers of regrets and false memories.
This frozen forest is the product of your imagination.
Like many other things.
Like the Voice.
Have you ever thought about the Voice, Alice?
The voice that you hear inside your head while reading a book.
The voice that translates a stranger’s words into your own thoughts.
That voice is yours.
It takes so many shapes, has so many tones and personalities, and here you are, unable even to tell a simple lie, without giving yourself away.
Your mind is more powerful than your body can possibly exteriorize.
Don’t be afraid of it.
Let your mind return to the frozen forest.
Has this world been here before you arrived?
It’s very old. No one knows for sure how long this frozen forest has been here.
But now that you are here, it changed. It changed to accommodate you.
To blend in with your mind.
What you are imagining right now, you control this world.
Look away in the distance.
Thin beams of light escape through thick wooden walls.
They are coming for you.
A storm is brewing.
Run for your life, girl! Run like all burning Hell is falling upon your footsteps! RUN!
A calm, steady hand is slowly sifting ice on the Ford’s windshield.
For miles, everything is buried deep under heavy layers of white, and amid this desolate climb, two pairs of headlights scrape the perfect, blank canvas. A bulldozer, fighting the odds and the unforgiving nature just for this sole Ford Explorer behind it.
Inside the car an overwhelming silence contrasts with the roaring engines outside. The two souls hiding behind thin layers of metal instinctively try to blend in with the world outside. This was no place for warm, breathing, bodies. The noise of the bulldozer is only making it worse for the intruders. They are too loud, so loud they could raise the dead. The radio suddenly bursts into life as it finds a working frequency. Through static and cracks, the driver and her passenger listen about the incredible powers that unleash before their eyes:
‘.. it’s incredible Linda.. I’m telling you… we haven’t seen something like this since the frost wave of ‘99.. we are receiving reports from all over the district about people still trapped inside their cars… blizzard that started a week ago… authorities are still trying to reach isolated cabins in the sector..’
The driver is the first one to cut loose now that the silence has finally been broken.
‘It’s about time I got to run this piece of junk up the mountain! I bet this goddamn wreck won’t make the trip back down. That would be something to remember. Being stuck in that horrible place.’
‘Don’t be so harsh on the poor thing Elisabeth. It’s not her fault you’ve found an equally stubborn adversary. Just face it. Mother nature doesn’t want you anywhere near her forest. If you were so keen to get back up love, you should have told me. For the money you paid for this bulldozer I would have gladly shoveled a road right up to your pretty little surgeon’s heart.’ Sean got no response from the lady in the driver’s seat. Not even one of her subtle “leave me alone” smiles. Since she met that old man, that war hero fella, she got... preoccupied. He always took her as the uptight, private sort, but now, it was like she’s seen a ghost. Always on the edge, with an anxious look that betrayed some kind of fear. Was it because Ben? Up there at the asylum, trapped in the snow for a week, unable to come home and see to their daughter. It’s not like it’s the first time it happens. Folks have enough food and fuel to live up there for three winters. It’s not that. Maybe she feels guilty for leaving him right before this storm started. Abandoning him. Especially now when everything is going so badly.
He glances out the window, waiting for another line to throw at Elisabeth. He notices the pattern of the trail the bulldozer left behind it. It looked like a surgeon had cut his way up the mountain. Snow walls were shifting closer to the car, guiding it and constricting its movement. Blood vessels. The scalpel moving its way up the mountain’s body, slowly but steadily.
‘Wow. Mesmerizing’. He is amazed how his thoughts and imagination twisted there for a second. At least he got something out of those senile pricks from the looney bin. A sick imagination that dreams up fucked up analogies and situations. He had to check on the girl, see what’s troubling her.
‘So, what did that Gregory fella want from you that made you flip your lid like that? A cozy room in our exquisite residence? Or better yet one of them deranged widows we’ve blessed ourselves with? You never know what people fancy about these days.’
‘None of your business Sean. The only reason I brought you with me is because Ben couldn’t sleep at night knowing I’m meeting someone from Raven’s Reach.’
‘It’s my business since I’m half an hour away from getting buried under the snow because of your reckless behaviour. I demand to know what is so urgent.’
‘I don’t owe you any explanation. You got me into this. You and his assistant basically pushed me out the door. What was that all about?’
‘I missed my little niece.’
‘Really? That’s the best you’ve come up with? Please, uncle Sean, or whatever relative you’ll be next time, don’t let her assimilate your rich and colourful vocabulary. Been having enough trouble with her visiting me at work.’
‘Got it boss. Piece of cake, you should know that I’m a man comfortable playing many different roles.’
‘Goddamit, the bulldozer just stopped.’ The driver just got out. Hey! We can’t block the entrance, keep going! Oh my God…’
The bulldozer came to a halt. It’s cabin opened, letting out a sack of cloth that plunged heavily into the snow. Its driver.
‘What the fuck? Did that poor sonuvabitch just faint?’
Sean gets out and runs to the body.
‘Elisabeth, stay in the car!’
‘I said stay in the car! And lock the bloody doors!’
He forgot how cold the outside world was. And silent. Even the growl of the stalled motors felt muffled. Buried. That’s the beauty of snowfalls. They’re just hiding, burying everything and everyone as quickly as possible so that the world could forget about them and move on. It’s like someone made a huge mistake and now tries to cover everything up before anyone sees it. Sean lifts the driver up from the snow, placing him back on his seat in the cabin. He checks his pulse. He’s warm, alive. No sense helping the poor driver. He’s resting so peacefully it would be a shame to wake him back to this cold reality. What made him faint? Sean grabs a flashlight from the glovebox and jumps back in the snow below. He checks around the vehicle. It was tilted to a side. The bulldozer went over something. Something frozen it could not push away. Sean caught a gruesome glimpse of a mangled corpse in the fainted headlights. Is it human? Blood splatters in the front of the vehicle. Not just one corpse. A bloody hand stands out in the snow, almost clinging to Sean’s clothes. On it, the identification bracelet for the mentally ill ward read: ‘Jock Cranley - Ward E’. The eastern wing. The guy with the vivid, macabre imagination. Funny. Would have loved this. Would have loved to see guts spread out all over the place. Made for a good story to tell to the poor nurses. Sean catches a short, sharp scream behind him. He turns quickly just to see Elisabeth sprint right past him. She tackles his grab and runs straight to the asylum’s main entrance. She’s worried about Ben. Can’t let her get inside, it’s too dangerous. She only got a few feet away from him when she stumbles on another corpse and falls. Sean picks her up and runs with her back to the car. Keys in ignition, turns around and accelerates. Didn’t get too far. On the narrow, bulldozed pathway, dozens of headlights shine like fire flies, drawing near with every second. Helicopter noise in the distance. Elisabeth screaming and panting in the back seat. Kicking the locked doors in a mix of panic and grief. An anticipating grief maybe. Sean is not stopping her. Not even a kind, reassuring word. He doesn’t believe naïve optimism works for women like her. He calmly kills the engine and lays back in the driver’s seat. He just stares at the bright headlights, waiting for them to draw near, muttering the same thing, like a broken record:
‘We fucked up, wee lass.’
‘Listen up maggots, the first recon unit finished scanning the premises at zero two hundred hours. They went right through the main hall after that, up to the northern wing, to the personnel quarters. I still got no word from them. Their comms must have jammed. It’s our job from now on, ladies. Enter the building and secure your sector. Team Charlie, you have the East Wing. Team Bravo, the South one. The rest, you’re with me in the west part. We detected vitals there, so it should be interesting. Looking forward to seeing what in the world survived this freak show. Medical, check on the couple in the car for me. Can’t afford to scare them off to the closest newspaper. That’s the last thing I need right now. The press will soon be sniffing around this whole business.
‘Why are we here sir? Didn’t know the E.D. owns looney bins now.’
‘You were never the guy with the know-how sergeant. We’re just the cleanup crew here. A means to cover up this shit with a blanket for Aubertin. Why do you think he needed spec ops armed to the teeth to handle a graveyard full of dead kids, huh? ‘He’s got enough cash to hire us for ass-wipes.’
‘Point made, sergeant! We were bought because we’re the best in the business. We keep things clean and quiet. So let’s not fuck things up more than they already are, got it? Tell doc to stand by for my go. Ain’t no way the thing in there is intact with everyone else chopped up to bits. And Johnny, speak for yourself regarding your professional spectrum, ok?’
‘The thing? Excuse me sir, but it’s a person you’re talking about there. Someone who needs our immediate help!’
Major Kerrigan turns for a second time to face his squad. He glances at his men. He reads fear on their faces. It’s the first time he sees his team shivering on a mission. He can’t hide the fact that they’re standing in a frozen open grave. He enters the building, guiding them along the bloodied halls.
‘No one likes a smartass Billy. You think a person would survive for a week, in a building where every living soul has been chopped up or hanged? You think that the last person standing in a bloodbath is innocent? We shall see how your person looks like. I bet he..’ His thoughts are interrupted by the com link in his ear.
‘Sir, Medical 9 here. I’m afraid we have a serious problem.’
‘Speak up, soldier.’
‘We just got the preliminary on the corpses outside.’
‘Speak goddammit I’m nearing the objective.’
‘Sir, these people have been dead for a few weeks. Their bodies are frozen, but in an advanced state of putrefaction. Barely any skin left on them bones, sir.’
A long pause lays on both ends.
‘Are you okay Sir?’
It is unclear what made Kerrigan spill his guts. The thought of the putrid corpses outside or the fresh ones in front of him. On top of some of his men, a beautiful young girl sits calmly. A blonde, blue eyed middle schooler with a bloodied knife in one hand and a stuffed bunny rabbit in another. Kerrigan has seen many things in his service years, but nothing yet as beautifully gruesome as this. An old painting flashes before his eyes. He’s seen this before. It’s hanging on the walls of his boss’s mansion. An old battlefield. A small daffodil growing from the skull of a dead soldier. Aubertin called it a symbol of hope in a world full of sorrow. The air grows warm, he feels safe, calm. Outside the massive windows it’s a beautiful summer night. A thunderstorm afar. In front of him, a perfect halo. Gold hair and lighting. Her eyes shine crimson gems for a moment. She opens her mouth, a narcotic voice drilling his will to stay awake:
‘The Boogie Man left. You’ve just missed him’.
The thunder of the wooden door smashing against the wall behind me sent cold shivers down my spine. The aggression fulfilled its purpose. Until then, I was somewhere safe, unaware and detached from the mess that is my real life. It distracted me from one of my many daydreams. I was having this pleasant memory, a real one this time. I could tell the difference because it was so vivid, powerful, like it was happening to me at that very moment. I was engulfed in this immense feeling of serenity, a kind of happiness that you taste once in your life. It makes you say awful things like ‘it’s the best day of my life’ quickly discarding all your past memories or later trying to relive it, to keep it from fading like everything else about you. I tried so hard to remember what it was about several times afterwards, but you see, that’s the thing with the “broken links”. It’s a pompous term these damned shrinks use for repressed or faded memories, past events that only return to your consciousness when you trigger them in real life. These triggers can be random. A scent, a mother’s eyes, or a simple word. If the correct events are happening at the same time, and the subject is exposed to the right stimuli, he or she can relive his past memories, can access parts of his brain that were once out of his conscious control. Interesting huh? These are the perks of dwelling in a mental hospital for years. You get to know how the brain works in hope that you find out what is wrong with yours. Unfortunately, I did not enjoy such luxury, and I have yet to regain control of my own mind. I barely keep control of my own memories, real, true and precious bits of my past. So now it’s understandable why I was so pissed that morning, even before I sat on that stupid couch. Like laying down with your eyes pointed to the ceiling was supposed to bring back anything. And all those questions, God, I swear it was the hundredth time I was answering them.
‘You look distracted today darling, is there anything I can do for you? Would you like cup of tea?’
‘I don’t want your poison you sick bastard!’
‘Easy now Alma, is there something wrong? Sit down please.’
Everything was wrong. The room, the light, even the glimpse of the outside world that I could see through his window blinds looked off. A frozen forest, so bright under sunlight it hurt my eyes. His fucking smiling face, with that stupid lab coat on him, even the name tag on it was fake. ‘Dr. Apollyon’ yea, right. It was a staged mock-up of my past. He wanted to play with me. And I was stuck here again, like so many times before, in a locked cage surrounded by a handful of guards eager to lay their hands on me. I couldn’t run, because all of this was in my head. I just had to remember nothing was real and play along.
‘I know who you are you maniac, the rags on you won’t fool me!’
‘You are full of surnames today, Alma, but it’s okay, it’s just a form of stress relief like any other. If it pleases you, you shall continue.’
‘Wipe that grin off your face and stop calling me that!’
‘Oh, I forgot, my apologies. Your name is not as it stands written in your birth certificate, it’s not given by your parents, it’s one borrowed from the fairy tales you’ve been reading so extensively lately, isn’t it? So, how should I call you this time, Rapunzel?’
His laugh pierced my ears. He was enjoying this. He enjoys playing with my mind, putting artificial memories in there like I was an amnesiac victim of some sort of traumatic event.
‘I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again, my name is Alice Deane, born on the 6th of June 1966, in Rennes, daughter of ..’
‘So let me get this straight. You are 67 years old, and you are four thousand miles away from home. Give or take. This is by far, and I’m telling you I heard a bunch of stories in here, by far the best story you’ve come up with. Wow. A french girl, in a postbelic Paris. You are getting romantic. Is there a boy in your story?’
‘Why are you doing this? Can’t you just let me be? None of this is real. I know it, you know it, why do you have to play around? What do you want from me? Say it and let’s get over it.’
‘You are delusional Alma. I understand what you’ve been through and I understand your pain and your defense mechanisms, but I want you to realise I am here to help you. I want you to get well again, to live a normal life, and leave the past behind. But for that, I need your cooperation. I need you to realise, to differentiate the right from the wrong, to see your real past through the stories you made up. So, please be cooperative. Do it for your own sake and for the people you love.’
His words, so kind at the surface and his benevolent manners were in conflict with that grin he was sporting so proudly. He didn’t believe what he was saying. He knew I didn’t give a damn about his pledge. He was talking to someone else. An audience. I was a lost cause. He wasn’t trying to cure my illness. He was trying to convince everyone that I’m helpless. I glanced around the room. Everything was in the wrong place in there, shot glasses on a plate with a teapot, a dentist table in the far corner. He was a fucking shrink. I noticed the large painting behind him had another interesting theme. A singer bending over forward to a concert audience. We were getting a nice view from behind. Really? Inside a psychiatrist’s office? It was a poster for a music festival. “Night Moves” I noticed the date on it. Coming fall 1998. It wasn’t the date or the sexualized faceless woman that got my attention. It was covering something. The night that was painted beyond her spread legs was fading to a deep black. There they were. My audience. The public that I had to impress if I ever wanted to leave this place.
I arrived early at the café and got the privilege to pick a secluded table on the balcony overlooking the venue. An outdated lot filled with classical music and retired couples. There weren’t many locals wandering the cobblestone street at that hour and I felt secure knowing the cold will keep most of the coffee addicts inside their homes. There were only four pairs on the first floor, leaving few seats for the eventual suspicious lone wolves. I needed as much privacy I could get. I didn’t stand out and I knew the owners, a local respectable family that owned this venue for generations. Tonight the husband took on the waiter suit and I was grateful to see he kept the tables around me empty. The tourists were not receiving the special treatment tonight so that I could be in the only public place where the walls didn’t have ears. That’s the perk of quiet mountain resorts. Few ill-looking, constipated city blokes wander far from the overstuffed clubs in the town centre. Easier for me to spot anyone following me. Their faces would give them away in there so they were probably waiting outside in a car. I just needed to send a message. To keep an old sworn promise.
It didn’t take long for Nigel’s broad figure to appear in the doorframe. He had that infamous stern look on his face, the “poker face” as how I used to call it in younger years, but beneath that hid a resourceful and highly intelligent bloke. He was entirely determined to see this matter dealt with and see us back to Raven’s Reach as soon as possible. He greeted me with a tired smile: ‘Good day, sir. I hope you find the venue fitting. I’ve talked with her personally and made sure she will be here soon.’
‘I just hope we are not too late Nigel. Time is once again against us. Do you think she will be cooperative? That she will accept such a feat?’
‘She will. For her own blood.’
‘She doesn’t know. And she shall not. Ever. The consequences would be..’
‘The consequence of your secrecy will be her refusal. Sadly, you will be forced to resort to your contingency plan.’
‘I assure you I will do it only when I’m left with no other choice. I know you don’t agree with what I must do, but our lives and the lives of those we love are at stake. If we shall fail today our children..’
‘..and our children’s children will be born in a world of darkness and horror. Their mouths will know the taste of blood, their lungs will breathe the smell of death, I know the poem, John. You’ve been repeating it often enough to make me consider either our future or your sanity. Ever since John died, you’ve been citing that witch and obsessing over this apocalypse scenario. She only needed a couple of seconds and some prophetic verses to turn your whole upside down. We’re living like convicts, hidden from the eyes of the world! For what? I thought you did not believe the Apple had the power to end all humanity, I thought you stopped working for them!’
‘I did. I’m doing this for my family. You agreed to help me so stop complaining. It will be over soon.’
A dark coloured Ford Ranger swerved into the free parking spot in front of the café. The driver was in a hurry. A woman got out from the driver’s side, quickly followed by a concerned male partner.
‘Nigel, you weren’t explicit enough when you told her to come unattended.’
‘She is stubborn. I had some help from the man she’s with, name’s Sean. It was the only way I could get her out quickly without raising suspicion.’
‘What kind of deal?’ I waved at them. Sean branded a wide smile.
‘He heard me mention your name in the warden’s office and offered to help me. Charming fellow, yet something was quite off about him. Must be coming from his job.’
‘Mrs. Comstock, my name is John Gregory. I’m pleased to finally meet you in person.’
‘Nice to meet you too. This is my colleague Dr. Sean Grabb.
‘Pleasure to meet you..’
‘Sir, it’s an honor to be under the same roof as one of our most prestiged war heroes. The pleasure is all mine.’
As I shaked his hand and heard his patriotic fervour I felt the unease Nigel mentioned. A cold shiver ran through my spine. A warning long forgotten. He recognized me straight away. My face hasn’t been in the papers for at least a decade.
‘Thank you for the kind words but I’m afraid I have to shorten your pleasure, Sean. The urgent matters I’m about to discuss with mrs. Comstock are strictly confidential. For that reason I requested that she will not be accompanied here.’
‘I understand. I will be outside, Elizabeth. I needed a smoke anyway.’
Nigel was quick. He got my cue.
‘They have a booth reserved for smokers upstairs if you’ll care to join me, Sean.’
‘I won’t refuse such an offer. Shall we?’
I waited until they were far enough, then I turned to face Elisabeth.
‘It’s been so long since I last saw you. Some part of me still expected to see a schoolgirl in a pink polka dress walk through that door.’
‘Do I know you?’
‘Perhaps not. It’s been a long time after all. I knew your father. He was a good friend who saved my life countless of times. But I failed to save his. On his deathbed he made me promise I’ll pay my debts to him. He made me promise I’ll keep his daughter safe until my last breath. And I’m willing to keep that promise even if will be the last thing that I’ll do. ’
‘Well.. It’s nice to know I’m being look after, but I can assure you I’m not in any danger, at least that I’m aware of.
‘No you’re not. Your sister is.’
‘My sister? What are you talking about?’
‘Alice is in grave danger. Her life is threatened.’
‘Oh. You’re talking about her. Unfortunately, she died many years ago. There was a fire.. I’m sorry.’
‘She’s not dead. She is a patient in the mental asylum you’re working at. Please listen to me. We don’t have much time. I need you to trust me and do exactly as I say. You have to call your husband right now. Get her out of there. Her mind..’
She stands up, rising her voice. I look behind her. A few startled faces turn to us in curiosity.
‘You’re joking right? I saw her body, I was there! The fire in her room.. it spread and engulfed the whole building, it left nothing behind, only ashes and, and death!
I lowered my voice, hoping she’ll copy my tone:
‘Did you see her dead body?’
‘Yes, I was awake that night, I was walking down the hallway when I heard her screaming. I ran to her room and I saw the flames spewing out from underneath her door. I opened it, burning my hands and my clothes and there she was on her bed, in flames, screaming her lungs out. Last thing I remember about that night. A neighbour said a blast threw me out the window that was across from her room. The firefighters found me unconscious in the backyard. The top floor of the house was missing when I woke up. So you’re telling me she survived the fire?’
‘Yes she is alive and well, she started the fire. You see, she somehow inherited a seed from the Apple. I don’t know who could have given it to her, unless..’
‘Oh my God not that thing again, I knew it, I knew it was that crap again, I had enough of your bullshit Mr. whoever the hell you’re supposed to be, these were the kind of hallucinations that cost my father his life so I suggest you leave your fantasy world before it’s too late. And I’m sorry about your promise. You failed to keep it seven years ago.’
She turned to leave so I grabbed her hand. I couldn’t let her walk out that door. Not before she would agree to fulfill her purpose. The waiter approached us. Through the table napkin resting on his right hand, a gun barrel was pointing at Elisabeth. She flinched and took a step back defensively.
‘Please don’t do this.’
‘Elisabeth, you leave me no choice.’
‘Where were you that night, huh? The night when life pulled another fucked up prank on our family? Why weren’t you keeping your sworn promise that night?’
I tried to embrace her but she pulled away from me. She preferred to be closer to a gun barrel than to me.
‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth, I really am. I wish I could turn back time, but I can’t. I should have known, I should have brought your mother back sooner..’
‘I’ve heard enough of this. ‘
She punched back at the waiter, quickly grabbed his hand and turned the gun towards me. The clock tower down the street started beating. Twelve painfully slow notes. Before the last pulse, the lights went out. Everywhere. A wave of angry voices mixed with panicked gasps. It only lasted a second. A sudden frozen breeze, running down my spine. The stillness in the air. I was too late. When the lights came back, I signaled the waiter. He peacefully loosened himself from Elisabeth’s grip and paced away from us. She lowered the gun. It was useless. Biometric guns can’t be activated without the owner’s genetic print. Neither of us could shoot it. She was surprised I did not use the blackout as an opportunity to subdue her. I asked her one last thing.
‘Do you remember when is your sister’s birthday?’
‘It was on 6th of June.’
‘Today. Today she’s thirteen years old.’
‘At least I’ve managed to get you out of there before it was too late. At least you’re safe.’
‘My God, what have you done?’
‘I’m sorry. I tried to warn you.’
‘Sean! We’re leaving! Now!’
‘Why are you running? I thought you saw her die! You knew it all along didn’t you? You felt it. And now, your past is catching up with you.’
They got in the car and left in a hurry. Didn’t stop them. Nigel joined me at the table.
‘I’ve talked with our contact. The girl will be transferred and given a new identity. Clean slate.’
‘For how long can we cover this with a blanket and call it a day? How long until the trail of dead bodies we leave behind will be too great to cover up with blankets?
‘The longer she lives the more powerful she gets. If you’re still so keen on keeping your promises, we’ll need bigger blankets sir.’
I felt powerless when I realised that once again Alice has drifted further away from the light, falling deeper into the darkness that corrupted so many before her. The blood of the innocent people that died by her hand are on my hands too, because I am her guardian. I am the one who’s protecting the monster.
‘Do you remember when you’ve lost your mind?’
‘Can you remember exactly when you’ve experienced your first psychotic episode?’
‘I thought going crazy was a process. You don’t just snap. You’ve told me that.’
He grabbed a skull from the bookshelf behind him. This melodramatic bullshit was making me sick. But I decided to play his game. For now.
As he was talking he was hitting the skull with a small hammer, gradually increasing the force, until there was nothing left but a battered white shell.
‘Imagine your conscience as a bone structure. A skull for example. In the beginning of your life it’s clear, immaculate, fresh. As your life goes on you experience events that have a certain effect on it. It experiences trauma. Loss. It cracks. Tiny little fissures appear on it’s surface. And then, it needs just a small push.. to tear itself apart.’
‘I don’t see it that way. At birth your bones are soft, fragile, that is true. But it’s in our nature to adapt to the harsh world. You survive. You heal. Normal life isn’t just a continuous pain that tries to break you at every corner.’
‘But we both know you have no normal life don’t we now?’
‘Is it too much to ask for one?’
‘Who do you want to ask? God? God gave you this life. It’s your burden to carry, my dear.’
‘What happens if I don’t want it? If I can’t take it anymore? I kill myself or I go mad don’t I? That’s what most people here do anyway. It’s become so much of a tradition people no longer take it seriously. Just another troubled teen ending his life because his girlfriend won’t answer to his texts.’
‘So, I assume that is the reason you didn’t kill yourself yet. It’s too mainstream to be suicidal in the 21st century. It’s better to drown your life in a vicious circle of self loathing, anxiety and substance abuse.’
‘Right, doc. You know me like the back of your hand. Been the only one who’s been treating me anyway. For how many years have I been sitting here in your office, going over and over again about my past, my condition, my reason to be here?’
‘It’s been almost seven years, now Alma. We’ve been doing this for way too long.’
‘Why do you keep on calling me that?’
‘It’s your true name. The name your father gave you. The name they will know you by. Don’t try to hide your true self. It will only make things harder for you. Try to focus, to separate the false from the real. Try to see beyond your forged memories and find reality however painful, a blessing to your troubled mind.’
‘How do I separate my dreams from reality? I see them both so vividly in my mind.’
‘Let go of your fear. Your past can’t hurt you anymore. All you see are moving pictures. Nothing more. Search through them, Alma. Find what’s wrong with them. Find the loophole. Go on. Start with the beginning.’
*THANK YOU FOR READING THIS PREVIEW. IF YOU WANT TO CONTINUE READING FREE OF CHARGE, PLEASE GO TO http://cavestudios.weebly.com/divine-orchestra.html AND CLICK SUBSCRIBE. YOU WILL RECEIVE AN EMAIL WITH THE EXCLUSIVE CONTENTS OF THE SERIES. FOR COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT REASONS, ONLY THIS PREVIEW WILL BE AVAILABLE WITHOUT REGISTRATION. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR YOUR INTEREST.