the recorder could not pick up on her batting eyes.
“Have you remembered anything?”
“I remember the way you looked at me,” she said longingly.
Dr. Bentley sighed.
“Hillary, if you want to get your memory back and leave this place, I need you to stay focused,” he said in a serious tone. Hillary was a bit put off by his reprimand, but she understood he was trying to do his job.
Hillary wished her hand was free so that she could touch him. She would pull down the sheet and place his hand on her chest. He would protest, but would he pull his hand away? Hillary knew he liked what he had seen and she had liked his reaction. It gave her a sense of power, a sense of control, two things she totally lacked. She wanted to arouse him, to have that influence over him, not just because she thought he was handsome, but to diminish the powerlessness and hopelessness she felt.
“Are you listening to me, Hillary?” he said sternly, causing her to flinch. She felt hurt by his tone. It was a reminder of how weak she was, how miserably inadequate and vulnerable. Her temper flared suddenly; she wanted him to leave.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted, her face contorted in anger.
“But—”
I don’t feel like talking,” she said coldly.
Dr. Bentley sensed her hostility and knew he had to correct his mistake. He had purposely been too firm with her, hoping that she would take their session seriously. In doing so, he had pushed her too far. He had forgotten that he was dealing with a child and an unstable one at that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with a big, beaming smile on his face. “I just worry about you.”
Hillary smiled in return. Dr. Bentley’s incredible smile was too hard to resist. It made her blush. Her anger abated and the dreamy look returned to her eyes.
“You do?” she asked shyly.
“Sure, I want you to get well. I’ve already spoken to Dr. Morrison. You’re going to be untied soon...as long as you cooperate.”
“Really?” she asked excitedly.
“Really. That means you’ll be able to move around, get some exercise. You’ll be able to eat actual food with your mouth, not through an IV and you won’t need the catheter anymore.”
“Oh, please ,” she begged, “ please make that happen. ”
“It’s all up to you,” he said softly.
“What do I have to do?”
“I think the most important thing is to open up about your dreams. Once you can conquer your fears, you’ll be that much closer to remembering your past.”
Hillary nodded as she thought about the one nightmare that had frightened her more than all the others. She didn’t even know how to begin to describe the horrors.
“Do you think you’re ready to discuss your nightmare with me Hillary?”
Hillary nodded slowly. The smile left her face.
“Nice and slow, Hillary...pretend you’re just watching a movie. Tell me what you see.”
Hillary took a deep breath.
“Can you put my bed up?” she asked. Her bed had not been adjusted and she had been lying flat, with a pillow under her head.
“Sure,” Dr. Bentley said, unhappy about the fact that she was stalling. He stood up and pushed a button on a keypad at the side of the bed. Slowly, the top portion of the bed began to lift. To his dismay, Dr. Bentley found himself hoping that gravity would pull Hillary’s sheet down below her chest. It did inch down slowly, but just below her shoulders. He felt disappointed and relieved all at once. He went back to his seat and scolded himself mentally.
“Okay...it’s just a dream, Hillary...a movie playing on a big screen. Tell me what’s happening.”
Dr. Bentley looked into her beautiful bright, but terrified eyes as she stared back into his deep blue eyes, fear clouding her face, draining the pink tint from her cheeks.
“There’s a girl...a young girl, a teenager, and she’s on the floor. Her hands and feet are tied and there’s tape over her mouth. Her eyes are big and she’s so scared. She shakes her head, she
“Have you remembered anything?”
“I remember the way you looked at me,” she said longingly.
Dr. Bentley sighed.
“Hillary, if you want to get your memory back and leave this place, I need you to stay focused,” he said in a serious tone. Hillary was a bit put off by his reprimand, but she understood he was trying to do his job.
Hillary wished her hand was free so that she could touch him. She would pull down the sheet and place his hand on her chest. He would protest, but would he pull his hand away? Hillary knew he liked what he had seen and she had liked his reaction. It gave her a sense of power, a sense of control, two things she totally lacked. She wanted to arouse him, to have that influence over him, not just because she thought he was handsome, but to diminish the powerlessness and hopelessness she felt.
“Are you listening to me, Hillary?” he said sternly, causing her to flinch. She felt hurt by his tone. It was a reminder of how weak she was, how miserably inadequate and vulnerable. Her temper flared suddenly; she wanted him to leave.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted, her face contorted in anger.
“But—”
I don’t feel like talking,” she said coldly.
Dr. Bentley sensed her hostility and knew he had to correct his mistake. He had purposely been too firm with her, hoping that she would take their session seriously. In doing so, he had pushed her too far. He had forgotten that he was dealing with a child and an unstable one at that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with a big, beaming smile on his face. “I just worry about you.”
Hillary smiled in return. Dr. Bentley’s incredible smile was too hard to resist. It made her blush. Her anger abated and the dreamy look returned to her eyes.
“You do?” she asked shyly.
“Sure, I want you to get well. I’ve already spoken to Dr. Morrison. You’re going to be untied soon...as long as you cooperate.”
“Really?” she asked excitedly.
“Really. That means you’ll be able to move around, get some exercise. You’ll be able to eat actual food with your mouth, not through an IV and you won’t need the catheter anymore.”
“Oh, please ,” she begged, “ please make that happen. ”
“It’s all up to you,” he said softly.
“What do I have to do?”
“I think the most important thing is to open up about your dreams. Once you can conquer your fears, you’ll be that much closer to remembering your past.”
Hillary nodded as she thought about the one nightmare that had frightened her more than all the others. She didn’t even know how to begin to describe the horrors.
“Do you think you’re ready to discuss your nightmare with me Hillary?”
Hillary nodded slowly. The smile left her face.
“Nice and slow, Hillary...pretend you’re just watching a movie. Tell me what you see.”
Hillary took a deep breath.
“Can you put my bed up?” she asked. Her bed had not been adjusted and she had been lying flat, with a pillow under her head.
“Sure,” Dr. Bentley said, unhappy about the fact that she was stalling. He stood up and pushed a button on a keypad at the side of the bed. Slowly, the top portion of the bed began to lift. To his dismay, Dr. Bentley found himself hoping that gravity would pull Hillary’s sheet down below her chest. It did inch down slowly, but just below her shoulders. He felt disappointed and relieved all at once. He went back to his seat and scolded himself mentally.
“Okay...it’s just a dream, Hillary...a movie playing on a big screen. Tell me what’s happening.”
Dr. Bentley looked into her beautiful bright, but terrified eyes as she stared back into his deep blue eyes, fear clouding her face, draining the pink tint from her cheeks.
“There’s a girl...a young girl, a teenager, and she’s on the floor. Her hands and feet are tied and there’s tape over her mouth. Her eyes are big and she’s so scared. She shakes her head, she
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