Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy) by Kimber S. Dawn
Authors: Kimber S. Dawn
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falls back against the pillow of the couch and she squeezes her eyes shut before covering her face with her hands.
After tucking her closer against me and resting her head on my shoulder with her face nuzzled into the crook of my neck, I look over at Ms. Sharp, “Whatever it is, whatever her next cognizant memory was, it’s of no concern to me. I already know who was behind my wife’s supposed death as well as her disappearance.
“Your priorities are seriously off kilter, Ms. Sharp. It seems to me you would benefit from considering taking a step back, regrouping your patient therapy care plan, and focus on what your job as a dissociative and identity disorder specialist entails. The social worker who met with Heather during her hospitalization in Albany said there were signs of Heather possibly having an alter personality or identity disorder. Now, I’ll ask you once, and only once, is your course of treatment where Heather’s mental health is concerned directed, or not, in correlation with the direction of your questioning?”
The blush revealing itself on Ms. Kylie Sharp’s face, neck, and chest tells me everything I need to know.
“If not, then what exactly is your motivation behind your current line of questioning?”
It takes her too long to answer, so I know whatever she’s about to say is either a lie, or not the entire truth. “Well, of course if I’m able to jog her memory or unlock certain things her unconscious mind has hidden from her, helping her remember when the police question her so whomever is behind her disappearance for the last two years is found and brought to justice is ultimately the goal, is it not?”
“No, Ms. Sharp, it is not. My wife’s mental and physical well-being is our main goal, hers, mine, and yours. Do I make myself clear?”
She nods while writing something then looks up and smiles, “Absolutely, Mr. Payne. Crystal clear.” She looks over to Heather still cradled against me, “Heather, can you recall the first situation or occurrence in which you became aware a part of your conscious mind was retreating or dissociating with your physical surroundings?”
I feel Heather nod against my shoulder but my eyes remain pinned on Ms. Sharp’s.
“Yes. It was over two years ago, in France. Roman and I had an argument, I was intoxicated and got hurt. I think that was the first time I can remember a distinct presence. But she didn’t talk to me, she just sort of took over.”
After scribbling down more notes she looks back to Heather with her brows furrowed, “So she has spoken or communicated with you?”
Heather clears her throat and nods again. “Yes.”
“And when was the first time she communicated with you?”
“When I woke up, the first time I remember being conscious after the night Roman told me he remembered meeting me at the park when we were kids.”
“When was this?”
“That night, September, 21 st , 2009.”
“You didn’t say anything about meeting him at a park when I first questioned you about that night.”
“I just remembered,” she sighs and sits up straight, “Dr. Sharp, I was in and out of consciousness that night, my entire recollection of it is riddled with holes and uncertainty, so whatever I answer about it can’t be trusted as it may be an actual memory, or something I dreamed up. Period.”
“Very well, we’ll come back to it later, so, your next memory after blacking out in your home and regaining consciousness is when she communicated with you, do you recall what she said?”
Heather’s voice is so low it’s barely audible, “She introduced herself as Mace, I saw her as clearly as I see you now. She told me her name and confirmed my suspicion that she’d taken over in France, and that she would be taking over again. Bars flew up around me in my mind. I-I don’t know if she put them there or not, but they weren’t needed, I wasn’t going to fight her. She took over, and for two years I watched in a sort of drunken
After tucking her closer against me and resting her head on my shoulder with her face nuzzled into the crook of my neck, I look over at Ms. Sharp, “Whatever it is, whatever her next cognizant memory was, it’s of no concern to me. I already know who was behind my wife’s supposed death as well as her disappearance.
“Your priorities are seriously off kilter, Ms. Sharp. It seems to me you would benefit from considering taking a step back, regrouping your patient therapy care plan, and focus on what your job as a dissociative and identity disorder specialist entails. The social worker who met with Heather during her hospitalization in Albany said there were signs of Heather possibly having an alter personality or identity disorder. Now, I’ll ask you once, and only once, is your course of treatment where Heather’s mental health is concerned directed, or not, in correlation with the direction of your questioning?”
The blush revealing itself on Ms. Kylie Sharp’s face, neck, and chest tells me everything I need to know.
“If not, then what exactly is your motivation behind your current line of questioning?”
It takes her too long to answer, so I know whatever she’s about to say is either a lie, or not the entire truth. “Well, of course if I’m able to jog her memory or unlock certain things her unconscious mind has hidden from her, helping her remember when the police question her so whomever is behind her disappearance for the last two years is found and brought to justice is ultimately the goal, is it not?”
“No, Ms. Sharp, it is not. My wife’s mental and physical well-being is our main goal, hers, mine, and yours. Do I make myself clear?”
She nods while writing something then looks up and smiles, “Absolutely, Mr. Payne. Crystal clear.” She looks over to Heather still cradled against me, “Heather, can you recall the first situation or occurrence in which you became aware a part of your conscious mind was retreating or dissociating with your physical surroundings?”
I feel Heather nod against my shoulder but my eyes remain pinned on Ms. Sharp’s.
“Yes. It was over two years ago, in France. Roman and I had an argument, I was intoxicated and got hurt. I think that was the first time I can remember a distinct presence. But she didn’t talk to me, she just sort of took over.”
After scribbling down more notes she looks back to Heather with her brows furrowed, “So she has spoken or communicated with you?”
Heather clears her throat and nods again. “Yes.”
“And when was the first time she communicated with you?”
“When I woke up, the first time I remember being conscious after the night Roman told me he remembered meeting me at the park when we were kids.”
“When was this?”
“That night, September, 21 st , 2009.”
“You didn’t say anything about meeting him at a park when I first questioned you about that night.”
“I just remembered,” she sighs and sits up straight, “Dr. Sharp, I was in and out of consciousness that night, my entire recollection of it is riddled with holes and uncertainty, so whatever I answer about it can’t be trusted as it may be an actual memory, or something I dreamed up. Period.”
“Very well, we’ll come back to it later, so, your next memory after blacking out in your home and regaining consciousness is when she communicated with you, do you recall what she said?”
Heather’s voice is so low it’s barely audible, “She introduced herself as Mace, I saw her as clearly as I see you now. She told me her name and confirmed my suspicion that she’d taken over in France, and that she would be taking over again. Bars flew up around me in my mind. I-I don’t know if she put them there or not, but they weren’t needed, I wasn’t going to fight her. She took over, and for two years I watched in a sort of drunken
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