Beyond Taken (The Beyond Series Book 5) Page 2

  She doesn't know a damn thing.

  Which is why I stopped going to see her months ago.

  But with the frequency of these sightings increasing, maybe I should book another appointment. A long one.

  With my jaw tensed and my shoulders wound tighter, I watch him a while.

  It's a morbid fascination - seeing a ghost.

  Always there's the paradox of being frozen in place versus the intense urge to run away. It's the same every time.

  The way he moves is always the first thing I notice. I can never get used to seeing him walking in this wide-open world when mostly I had observed him in tight quarters.

  There's a freedom in the way he moves now. It's not a happiness, exactly. He walks with a dark weight upon him as he always did, but there's less... restraint in him now. It's achingly similar to how he appeared the first time I'd laid eyes on him and it lifts my heart now to see that.

  His eyes have lost most of their intensity, though they seem far too distant to be reached and his cropped chocolate curls appear almost wild as they're blown about. I can't tell for sure, but perhaps he has found some peace.

  I hope so.

  Pausing amidst the trees, he lifts his face to the sun, closing his eyes as I had. Sunlight smiles down on him as the occasional blossom floats past. He's so beautiful that he brings tears to my eyes.

  My vision of him begins to blur and I wipe my eyes, anxious to see him clearly once more.

  Entertaining a fantasy.

  His eyes open and his shoulders visibly rise and fall. Just when I think he'll move off on his own, he runs a hand through his hair and looks around.

  Those warm, but unseeing brown eyes sweep right past me. He pauses. His eyebrows start to lift, but he draws them back in line like a master as he turns back in my direction.

  It's as if he sees me too.

  Shaking his head slightly, he takes a small step toward me then stops, as if he can't come any closer. As if he's trapped in his realm, as I am in mine.

  My chest goes tight and I'm breathing way too fast. I want him to come closer, but at the same time I can't think of anything harder to bear.

  Part of me wonders if he's thinking the same thing, and that he's staying put to keep from losing me, as if I've become his hallucination now; that might disappear should he move any closer.

  That might be the craziest thought I've had yet, and I've thought a lot of crazy things.

  I'm crossing a line.

  I need cold water.

  Fast.

  Easing myself off the park bench, I force myself to walk calmly away. Inside I'm in full panic. If I were one of my American friends, I might have run screaming right now, but that kind of behavior would only gain the kind of attention that I want to avoid.

  One foot in front of the other, I can't help but glance over my shoulder for one last glimpse of him.

  Rubbing his eyes, he stares after me. Taking a hesitant step in pursuit, he pauses again as if conflicted. I keep walking, but when I see him move after me with more purpose, I duck behind the thick brush nearby and run; circling back as if I'm trying to shake an enemy.

  Running as fast as I can, I pray my madness won't catch me.

  An impossible feat. It grows stronger each day as I linger outside reality. It's coming for me and soon there will be no escape.

  Dashing into the public restrooms, I splash handfuls of frigid water over my face. As soon as I can breathe again, I pull out my phone and ring Dr. Alderan, begging her answering service for an urgent and lengthy appointment.

  It's time to deal with my ghosts.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I shift in the chair again as the doctor waits patiently for me to settle.

  "I have to say, I was surprised to get your call," she says, filling the silence between us. "I got the feeling that you didn't find our meetings especially helpful."

  Sighing, I rest my head against the back of the chair. "You like me to talk about my feelings. I would rather pretend I do not have them."

  "Which works for a while, but not forever?" she prompts.

  "Yes."

  "Would you like to tell me about what led you here today?"

  "No. I do not like. But I will tell you, because I am going crazy and you help crazy people."

  She presses her lips together and adjusts her glasses.

  "I don't think we need to put labels on natural behavior, but if it makes you more comfortable to refer to yourself as crazy, I won't object. So long as you understand I don't see you that way."

  "How do you see me?" I ask, sitting up straighter. "Do you see a woman in distress?"

  "Actually, you always seem very reserved and self-contained, despite all you have gone through. Which is why I'd like to talk about what's been happening for you lately. Given your previous lack of engagement with my service, I'm quite concerned about your spontaneous attempt to ask for help. Are you safe?"

  "Safe?" I study her face a moment. "I do not understand."

  "Do you feel like hurting yourself, or anyone else?"

  "No," I reply with a shrug. "But that does not make me safe." Sighing, I rub at my forehead. "I am getting... lost."

  "Lost?"

  "Yes. Lost," I say with more solidity. "I am losing me. I spend too much time outside my body and I am afraid I will not come back. I am still real, yes?"

  "You are very real Natalia."

  Frowning, I lean back in the chair again.

  "That is more emotion than I have ever seen on your face," the therapist comments, making a note on her paper. "You don't like that I confirmed your position in reality?"

  Staring at her ceiling, I wonder at how many times I've done so.

  "Sometimes reality is false. People live lies."

  "Are you saying your life is a lie?"

  "Some of it. Yes. It keeps me safer, but it does not help me if I want to feel more real."

  Dr. Alderan rests her chin on her knuckles as she regards me.

  "I think we jumped into the deep end, because now I'm feeling a bit lost. I'm still curious about why you've come to me after all this time. Let's go back to the beginning and start from there. You are under stress at the moment. What factors have led to that added stress?" she asks.

  When I say nothing, she opens the file in front of her and starts skimming the pages with her finger. "Your visa expires soon. Have you completed your application for citizenship?"

  I shake my head.

  "Will you?"

  "Yes."

  She flips through a few pages. "You can't really go back to Estonia."

  "No."

  "You understand that they'll make you, if you don't complete the paperwork and get approval."

  "I know. Yes."

  She raises an eyebrow. "Is that adding to your current stress levels?"

  "No. I will do it. It will be fine. FBI said I will be staying. I will stay."

  Stroking her ear as she adjusts her earring, Alderan dips her head in a tiny nod. "It wouldn't hurt to get that out of the way though. I imagine your occupation will not be viewed... favorably."

  "I pay taxes. Governments like money. It will be fine."

  "Okay. You're right," she concedes. "You're not in the least bit stressed about that, even when I try to provoke you."

  "Should a doctor try to provoke people?"

  "Sometimes, yes. Sometimes people need their thoughts to be challenged. And sometimes a therapist needs to be able to see some sort of reaction in their client. We've talked before about how different our cultures are when it comes to expressing ourselves, and that I can find it very difficult to read you."

  "I remember these discussions," I confirm with a nod. "I remember you wanting me to talk more, or act more. I will not act, but I am ready to talk now. Must you know why?"

  The doctor raises her hands as if saying it's up to me. "It would help me to understand, but if you find it too difficult you should just share what you are comfortable with. More if you can, because the uncomfo
rtable things are usually the real issue."

  "It is all uncomfortable," I mumble, still trying to find the right way to sit in her lumpy chair without feeling awkward. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to be still.

  "I am being haunted."

  The doctor's eyes hold mine for a long while.

  "Are you speaking of your hallucinations?" she asks, referring back to her notes. "Are they becoming more frequent?"

  "Yes," I admit, folding my arms tightly over my chest. "And more real."

  "Will you tell me what it is you're experiencing?" she asks, looking up. "You used to see the girls' faces, hear them crying, your father's laughter, hear your captor's voice, and see him and other men from your traumatic experience. Are these things the same? They were improving when we last spoke of them."

  "They are much improved. My dreams are full of them all, but when I am awake, I see and hear very little from them. And if my friends do not see, or hear them, I know they are not real." Shifting uncomfortably in the seat again, I close my eyes and decide to be brave.

  "Talking about those things with you before made them better, but there are things I have not told you," I admit quietly.

  Dr. Alderan sits composed, but I can tell from her posture that she's dead keen to hear more from someone she'd once referred to as her 'most closed-lipped' client.

  "Do you wish to tell me now?"

  "I wish a lot of things. I will tell you what I can."

  She only nods, waiting.

  Looking up to the ceiling, I take a deep breath.

  "I have spent a lot of time learning how to live outside of myself." Glancing at her across the room, I pause. "Do you know what I mean by this? This outside my body thing?"

  "A form of dissociation?" she asks. "Detaching your mind from your body to endure things you feel unable to deal with."

  "Yes. This." Nodding, I relax a little into the chair. "I have done this since I was young. Since my mother passed. I perfected it while dancing in adult clubs in Tallinn; acting as one thing to please men so that I could make money to live and study. When I was not doing that, I was my true self. I went to school, I did ballet, I sang at different, much nicer clubs, and was myself. I felt more connected then, but this connection to myself is hard to keep now. I slip away all the time. I am afraid that I will one time soon, not find my way back."

  "Do you have to go back?" she asks, her pen pausing. "Time only moves forward. You can be a new version of yourself and still be you."

  I don't disagree with her outright. I've reinvented my identity before and still retained part of myself, but each reinvention costs me a little more, and what I'm experiencing now is something different.

  "This thing... dissociation; it is what saved me when I was taken. Throughout the..." I move my hand up and down as if traveling mountains. "Over the path of my life, it has almost become my natural state. It scares me because I enjoy it. I like not living in this world, but in one that holds the people I love."

  "You're speaking of those who've died? Are you telling me that you're suicidal?"

  Holding up my hand to stop her, I shake my head. "I will never kill myself," I assure her. "The guilt of throwing away what so many others have lost is more unbearable for me than death. I would never rest peacefully. I must live, because they cannot. I just... do not know how to live with myself."

  Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them away before they can fall. "I love the ghosts, but when they come to me, it is so hard not to... linger."

  "What do you think is the most fundamental part of you that you have lost? What must you regain to feel at home within yourself once more?"

  "I have asked myself this many times," I tell her quietly. "I have worked to make things better. I have a new family that I love. I dance for myself, despite what others may think. I am still finding my voice. At first, I could not sing at all, but now I can sing sometimes when I am alone. Sharing that part of myself, my real self, is something I have not been able to do since..."

  I shake my head. "Is problem though - if I do not share my true self, no-one will ever know who I am. How do I get... validated? I am like hallucination. How do I prove to myself that I am real if other people cannot really see me?"

  "You're real, Natalia."

  Shaking my head as hated tears run down my face, I groan in defeat at the doctor's misinformation. Her very words are a contradiction.

  "You've been through an unbelievably traumatic experience, but you are real. It's not unreasonable to see, or hear people from your experience in your life now. You have been deeply affected by pain and suffering and loss. It is natural to feel upset, and scared, and to question other things in your life," the doctor explains systematically. "All of these things make you much more real than you might think."

  I shake my head again. "My trauma was nothing compared to others. I got off lightly! You do not understand," I whisper, fighting to control my emotions before they flood the place. "There are things you do not know."

  "So, tell me."

  ALMOST THREE YEARS EARLIER...

  Giddy with excitement as Papa lugged my suitcase through the crowded walkways of Old City Harbor, I was on the verge of spreading my wings and flying far away from an already empty nest. Tallinn's famed architecture was behind me now, waving me off with its familiar towers and turrets as if their old terracotta tiles were jealous of my bright new adventure.

  Lisandra had already left on a ship the year before, and my father often spoke of how busy she was. He'd heard through his connections that she was supremely happy and had even met a handsome man who had fallen hard for her beauty. Dreaming of my own such fairytale, I couldn't blame her for not keeping in touch with her little sister. Despite the lack of contact, I felt sure she'd have been proud of me for following my dreams and embarking on my own journey.

  Just one week earlier, Papa's foul moods had lifted beyond all expectation. He came home not rolling drunk, but cheering for me.

  Me! His lowly second daughter.

  Usually held in little reverence, I'd managed to please him with the one thing he thought me any good at. He'd sent one of my recordings to a man he knew and had somehow landed me a recording contract! Practically crowing from the rooftops with pride, he'd ordered me to pack my bags and farewell my friends because I was destined for fame and fortune in America - probably never to return to our slum of a neighborhood! His baby girl was a shining star that deserved better.

  Barely able to believe the great news, I sat stunned for a good five minutes before screaming, hugging Papa and running to quit my job down at the X Club. I bought a new suitcase for the trip, new clothes to go in it, and thought of how happy Lisandra had been when Papa had found her the cruise ship job. Any work that offered actual escape was a welcome gift. I'd wished for half her luck at taking on the world, and now I was getting so much more than I'd ever wanted.

  On my previous wishlist, the first item had been a father who was better at providing - and now I had that too!

  Both Lisandra and I had believed Papa whole-heartedly when he'd claimed that we were his only chance at success, and that he preferred to invest his time on our behalf to bring this about rather than fail at things for himself. He'd proved it time and time again, bargaining on our names instead of his own, and this time, I had to admit that it'd paid off!

  Practically skipping along behind him, I was seeing the world with a whole new set of eyes. I felt like bursting into song as if I were part of some grand musical about a girl coming of age and leaving her humble beginnings. No more living in a daydream to distract myself from my grim reality. I was living the dream!

  Spinning amidst the crowd, I took in the hustle and bustle, the colors and smells, and all with a grin so big my cheeks were starting to ache. All around me were people living their dreams too; off to new places, or coming to visit my beautiful city.

  I loved the way the skirt of my new dress flew out when I spun. Bright white and covered in beautiful spring blossoms
, it was classy, and pretty, and perfect for a fresh start.

  Everything had been perfect. Even the sun on my bare shoulders seemed to be shining just for me. A natural spotlight for a rising star.

  Twirling again, I side-stepped a family marching along on a mission, then ran to keep up with Papa. I'd never been anywhere but Tallinn and I couldn't wait to leave.

  Distracted by a ship's horn, I couldn't keep from looking around to assign the noise to the right vessel, but I soon forgot about that when I became aware of a very handsome man watching me.

  Stopped in my tracks, I felt my cheeks warming under his gaze.

  Men had ogled me before. I'd made my living from it for two years already. I knew what men liked; what they wanted.

  This man wasn't looking at me the way others usually did.

  Unsure of what his expression meant, I found my smile fading.

  His faded too. No more white teeth sparkling at me from across the dock.

  I missed them. I wanted him to smile at me like that. Who doesn't like attention from a tall, handsome stranger somehow capable of charming women from a distance?

  Not women. Me.

  I was the only one in the crowd not moving. It was me that held his focus. He'd captured me in his gaze, and it felt inexplicably pleasant to be trapped there.

  Lisandra had taught me enough about flirting to make a living from it, but somehow I'd become suddenly shy. I couldn't even raise a hand to wave.

  Another, much less attractive man appeared beside him and said something. Without taking his eyes off me, the first man responded. The second man followed his gaze to me and said something else.

  Frowning, the handsome man said something that promptly sent the second on his way as if dismissed. All the while, his eyes never left mine.

  I almost jumped out of my skin when Papa grabbed my hand and pulled me after him.

  "I'm coming Papa!" I called above the noise before looking over my shoulder for the stranger.

  He was there, still watching. He raised one hand, a small smile on his face. I smiled back, knowing my great new adventure had already begun. If the rest of the world was filled with men like that, I was going to have a wonderful time exploring!