"Ceremonies of Innocence" part 1 of 2 by Pellinor ************ For all those kind people out there who gave me such encouragement about "Inferno" and begged for a sequel - sorry, this isn't one. It's self-contained, but still rather dark. SUMMARY: A psychiatrist attempts to recover the traumatic events concealed in a patient's memory. But, sometimes, forgetting is essential to survival.... Although no names are mentioned in this piece, it should slowly become clear who, and what, we're dealing with here. Just don't jump to hasty conclusions. RATING: No idea, but some readers may find this disturbing and/or upsetting. DISCLAIMER: Except for two, all the characters alluded to here are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox, and are used without permission and not for profit. The format is borrowed from Robert Cormier. ************ Darkness. Safe darkness. Warm .... warm and soft, soft darkness caressing my cheek. Soft and safe, like .... like ..... "Dad! Where's my Dad? I want my Dad? Where's my Dad?" And then there are tears on my cheeks, stinging wetness making me wince. But why am I crying? Dad will be here soon. He always comes, his feet like a mother's heartbeat, soft thuds upon the dark carpet. Late, often late, but always there. He is coming. "Dad!" I feel the smile break out on my face, feel the tears kissed away by the soft caressing darkness. "Dad!" He knows where to find me, hidden in the den of blankets at the bottom of my bed, clutching toys that I'm too old for. He doesn't laugh at me. Everyone needs a teddy bear sometimes, even big boys of thirteen. But I wouldn't want anyone else to see - only Dad. Only him. There is no-one else - no-one that matters. "Dad!" I can still hear his feet. Why is he so slow in coming to me? Where has he been? Is his brow furrowed with worry, as it so often is after he meets with .... with .... with .... "No!" My fingers dig into the teddy's soft fur, shaking with some emotion I don't understand. What's happening? Why? Why? Why mustn't I remember the .... the.... the ....? "Dad!" The darkness can't kiss away my tears this time. Only Dad can do that. Dad has been with the .... with the ..... "Dad! Help me!" And then the door opens .... ********** TAPE EKJ 5.01 10:00 A: Good morning. B: Who are you? A: I'm a doctor. You can call me Thomas. B: I'm not sick! I don't need a doctor! I .... I don't want to be here! .... Leave me .... leave me ...." A: There's nothing to worry about. I'm here to help you .... B: Get off me! Don't touch me. Leave me alone! A: I'm here to help you. You need help, don't you? (ten second interval) A: You need .... B: Are you a shrink? A: I'm here to help you. I'm here to help you remember. B: I don't need to remember anything. I haven't forgotten anything. I .... where's Dad? A: I .... B: Where's Dad? Where is he? Where is he? Tell me! A: Please .... sit down ..... _Sit down_. (five second interval) B: Where's Dad? He's been gone for hours. Where is he? A: I think only you can answer that question. You _know_. It's in your memory. All you have to do is remember. B: I .... I .... I _can't!_ A: I'm here to help you remember. Tell me what happened. I'll help you make sense of it. B: No! I can't! I mustn't talk to anyone about .... about .... No! Dad made me promise. A: What mustn't you talk about? B: About the .... the .... No! I mustn't! A: You _have_ to remember! It's the only way to get your Dad back. B: I can't talk about them. A: Then don't. Don't talk. Just remember..... ********** It was several years ago when he first saw them. The rain lashed against the windows, thunder cracking the sky apart, making his body quake with terror. Storms. He'd always been terrified of storms. When he'd lived with his mother she'd always let him come into her room, snuggling him to her side, telling him stories until the warmth of laughter and love quite drowned out the horrors which raged outside. But his mother wasn't here any more. "Dad!" he whimpered, clutching his teddy bear to his chest. He was .... oh, he must have been nine or ten then, but not too old for a teddy bear, not in a storm. He shivered under the sheets, tears of terror coursing down his cheeks, the storm coming closer and closer until he was convinced the whole house would be engulfed in flames of a lightning strike. But the thunder was even more frightening than the lightning.... "Dad!" He hadn't meant to do it, but suddenly he found himself tiptoeing along the landing, creeping down the stairs to find his father. He knew he was there, for he could see the light from his study, hear the distant hum of low voices, smell the smoke. What was it his father had said, when he'd come to live with him, holding him firmly by the shoulders, eyes dark with command, boring into his soul? "Sometimes people will come to see me after you're in bed, and you must never - I mean _never_ - disturb me when they are here. If there's an emergency, go to Aunt Sarah, but never disturb me." Aunt Sarah, a great-aunt really, was old and cold and hard, fast asleep for the most part, especially on those nights when his father had to go out at night, sometimes returning only at dawn. _She_ would never comfort him in a storm, but would rage at him for interrupting her sleep - a big boy like him afraid of a bit a thunder - what was the world coming to? But he needed to hear his father's voice. He wouldn't disturb him, but would just crouch at the door and listen - just so he could know he wasn't alone in the world - that he wasn't the only person left alive, alone and friendless in a cold world of fear and thunder. But he was tired, and he found his lids growing heavy, soothed by the sound of his father's voice, talking about things he didn't try to understand. Boring things. Grown-up things. Things to do with work. He knew work was boring for his friends had told him. Friends whose parents _could_ talk about their work told terrible tales of fathers - and mothers - grey and tired with adding up figures, filling in forms, sorting out small- minded problems. Their words washed over him, entwining with his half-dreaming thoughts as the smell of cigarette smoke insinuated itself in his weary senses. Words .... "tests....", ".... experiment was successful, but we need more subjects....", "see what can be arranged....", "merchandise....", "terminated ...." Boring, boring talk. Merchandise. He knew what _that_ meant. He was a clever boy for his age, everyone said. His father was involved in buying and selling. Somehow he'd hoped it was something more exciting, even imagined he was some sort of secret agent, with all the furtive visits he made at night, sometimes summoned by a single phone call which lasted only a few seconds. And that was another thing, he remembered with a sudden stab of irritation - he'd been forbidden to answer the telephone. "If it's for you, I'll tell you!" his father had said. But it seldom was. They moved too often for him to get any real friends. Just over a year he'd been living with his father, and they'd moved house three times already. And then the door opened, and the voices spilled out of the study, angry voices mixing with the smoke. "Was he spying? Did he hear anything?" Angry voices, smelling of cigarettes. "No! I expect he was just scared, because of the storm." That was his father. And then there were arms around him, his father's voice hissing in his ear as he lifted him up. "Pretend you're asleep." There was an urgency in his voice he didn't dare resist, and so he let his head loll on his father's shoulder, contenting himself with only the narrowest of glimpses through half-closed lids of the men in black suits who'd invaded his house. Men with hard faces, who smelled of smoke. Later he hadn't needed to pretend, but had drifted close to sleep the moment his father laid him down on the bed. "Never speak about what just happened!" An intense whisper, forcing him back to wakefulness. "Don't tell _anyone_ about those men. Not anyone!" And that was only the first of many, but he never forget his father's words, and whenever he heard the door opening and closing after dark, footsteps thudding across the floor, smoke spiraling up the stairs, he pulled his sheets over his head and hid in the fantasies of his mind. But still the men came.... And came.... Men. Until, that last night, it was only one.... One man, with a ..... "No!" And then he screamed until he had no voice left to scream with. ********** Tape EKJ 5.02 1120 A: Are you feeling better now? B: ..... better? A: Here - have some water. Your voice is hoarse. B: Why? A: You were ..... upset. B: Why? I can't remember. A: It doesn't matter. Shall we talk again? B: What about? A: About the men. B: How do you know about the men? I didn't tell you! I didn't tell anyone! Dad! I promised! I never told anyone! A: You.... B: I didn't tell you! How do you know? Is it .... is it the medicine you're giving me? Does it make me say things I don't mean to? I .... I won't take it any more! I won't! A: No. You didn't tell me, but I know some things. I have to know them. It's so I can help you remember - help you help your Dad. B: Da - ad. A: Can you remember anything else about the men? B: Dad. I want to stop now.... Dad..... Where's Dad? .... I want to go home. Please can we stop. Please? A: Of course. I'm only here to help you. B: It _will_ be okay, won't it? A: Of course. Everything's going to be okay. Just as soon as you remember. END OF TAPE EKJ 5.02 ********** It was my birthday yesterday. We had a party, Dad and I. Just us. No-one else. A real kid's party, with cake, and balloons. We both laughed so much, so happy, just the two of us. "Dad! Where are you?" He got me a present. It's in my hand even now, as I wait in my den at the foot of the bed, wait for him to come to me. It's a game, a computer game. I can't play it yet, as the computer's in his study and I'm not allowed there, not unless he's with me all the time. But when he comes back today he's bringing me my own computer to use in my bedroom - a sort of one-day-late present. I can't wait! But I still clutch the game. It's new, just out last week. None of the boys at school have got it yet and they'll be so jealous. It's cool. Like Doom II only better. You have to shoot ..... to shoot .... "No!" To shoot .... "No!" To shoot .... "Dad!" ********** TAPE EKJ 5.03 0915 A: Good morning B: Who are you? A: I'm a doctor. You've met me before. You can call me Thomas. B: I've never seen you before! I haven't! I .... I want to go home. I .... I don't like you. A: I'm here to help you . You know that, don't you? (five second silence) A: I hear you had a bad time last night. B: .... last night? A: Why do guns upset you so much? (fifteen second silence) A: You were screaming about shooting .... B: No! That wasn't here. I was at home! I was waiting for my Dad last night. He's only been gone ..... Where's my Dad? A: Can you still remember the men? B: The .... the men? A: The men who came to your house. Did your Dad ever tell you anything about them? B: I'm not allowed to talk about the men. A: The last time they came, back in .... B: It was only two nights ago. Two nights ago that they all came .... A; Okay. Two nights ago, then. Can you tell me what happened? B: I don't know. I didn't listen. I never listened .... A: Were they shouting? B: I don't know. A: Did your Dad act different, after they'd gone? B: I don't know. I don't know! A: Did he tell you anything? A secret? Something you had to know, in case something happened to him.... B: What's happened to him? What's wrong? Where's Dad? A: No! .... no. Nothing's happened to him, I promise you. I just want to help you remember. It's for your own good, and your Dad's. B: He didn't tell me anything. A: Did he give you anything? Tell you to hide something? Tell you where _he_ was hiding something? B: No. No! I don't know! I .... I can't remember! A: You've got to remember! B: Please! You're hurting me. Please don't shout. Please! A: I'm sorry. I just want you to get better. It hurts me to see you so sick .... B: I'm not sick. A: You've got to remember. Think! Think back to that last night.... ********** There was something terribly wrong. He could see it on his father's face, hear it in his voice. "Dad....?" "You go to your room. I'll .... I'll try to explain later." He was glancing around, quick urgent looks, biting his lip. "Why? Are those men coming?" He knew he mustn't talk about them, but this was something different. He could almost reach out and touch the urgency in the atmosphere. His father sighed. "Look, I can't explain, not now. I've got a few things to sort out first, things to .... well, anyway, I don't want you involved. Then, after it's done, we'll go away, you and me and .... and Aunt Sarah." And, tense as he obviously was, he'd smiled with mock-disgust at _that_ prospect, although the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Why? What's happened? Have you fought with those men?" "There's no time for this. But I guess I owe you an explanation and there might be no chance later .... " He crouched down, holding him tight by the shoulders. "Those men .... they're .... well, I don't like what they're doing. I used to. I used to be involved in it. Oh, I used to oppose some of the things they did, work towards undoing some of their projects, when it suited me. But in general .... " He looked away, his eyes full of guilt. "In general, I went along with it. I even led some of it." He sighed. "Look, I can't tell you everything. If I did, I expect you'd hate me...." "No! I could never hate you, Dad!" "You would, if you knew.... And that's why I want out. I .... having you here has made me think. That's why I started working against them a few years ago. But what I did then - it wasn't doing any real damage. It was always in my own interest. The worst of it .... the worst of it was still going on, and I was behind it. I was lying to myself, easing my conscience by undermining little things - little things that didn't really matter. But the most of it .... that was too close." He passed his hand over his forehead. "So this time .... this time I had to do something really big. I couldn't let them do what they were planning. That's why .... that's why I did .... I took...." He stiffened suddenly, glancing at the door, although there had been no sound, at least no sound that his son could hear. "Go to your room, now. Lock the door. Don't let anyone in, except me. I'll .... I hope I'll be there soon. Then we can go....." "Dad....." "Go!" There was real terror there - a look he'd never seen before in his father's eyes. He had no choice but to obey..... But he stopped half-way up the stairs. Stopped, and looked back. ********** TAPE EKJ 5.04 1010 A: What did you see? B: A man ..... A: No! Before he came. What did you see? Did your father hide something? Did he call anyone? Did he ..... B: No! I can't remember! I don't know! Please leave me alone! A: It's okay. It doesn't matter. I just want to help. (ten second interval) A: Tell me about the man. B: No! I can't remember! A: You _have_ to remember. It's the only thing that can save your father. ********** He hadn't seen him, the man who'd invaded his house. He was hiding behind a chair, watching from a dark corner as this stranger violated his home. It was a man, but not one of the ones he remembered from that smoke-wreathed night so long ago. Younger, this one was. Younger, and less well groomed, his clothes crumpled, his face dark with unshaven stubble, his eyes ringed with black. And the man had a gun in his hand.... He couldn't move, couldn't think, could only feel. Terror, horror, hatred. He knew what was going to happen, knew he had to watch it, knew he was powerless to do anything. The man had a gun..... "You!" His father's voice from the study. He sounded genuinely surprised. "What are you doing here?" "I thought _I'd_ find you for a change, you son of a bitch." "I don't know anything that will help you. I'm sorry." And his father's voice _did_ indeed sound apologetic. God! The man had come to kill him and he was apologising to him. "Don't give me that!" There was a crash as a chair fell over, a thud as something slammed against the wall, a cry of pain. "You killed her!" "No! I didn't! I know .... I know they killed her. I'm sorry. I tried to stop it...." "Like hell you did!" Another cry of pain, another thud. "I know it was you. They told me .... a note under my door, like you used to do when it suited you to toy with me. They gave me your address, and told you it was you....." "No! Can't you see? They're using you again. They want me to die! I've ..... I've got something they want. I'm going to expose them - ruin their work. They want me dead. This way, they can kill me and you at the same time. They...." Another cry. "Listen!" His voice was a ragged croak, struggling against pain. "You're doing exactly what they want!" "Shut up! I won't listen to this! It was you - always you. You never helped me when I needed it, just when it suited you. You.... you wouldn't help her, last time, when she was dying. Just walk away, you told me, just walk away and let her die." Thud. A low groan of agony. "And now you tell me you tried to save her? You don't care about other people's lives. You .... how could you do it? Did you look into her eyes as she died? Did you .... Oh God! There was so much blood! So much .... You killed her .... you killed her....." The man's voice was cracking, dissolving into tears, and suddenly he dared hope that his father would win. "Give me the gun." His father's voice was gentle. "You don't want to do this. It won't bring her back." "No! I came here to kill you! I don't want to talk any more. I know you have answers. I know we could talk and I could find out everything I ever wanted to know. I know that..... But I don't want that anymore. I don't want answers any more. They don't matter now." Another groan of agony, but not in his father's voice this time. "Nothing ..... nothing matters. Nothing .... except...." "What _do_ you want?" His father's voice was quiet. "I want revenge!" And then came the explosion which tore his life to shreds. An explosion. Noise worse than any thunder storm. Noise. Light. Blood. "No!" He didn't know who'd cried out. He didn't think he'd spoken. "No!" Blood.... His father ..... His father ..... ********** TAPE EKJ 5.05 1125 A: Stay with me. Stay with me. You mustn't withdraw now. Stay with me. B: Dad! A: Stay with me. What happened next? There's more, isn't there? Tell me .... _Tell me!_ B: Then will you bring my father back? A: Yes. He'll come back. Just tell me what happened next? Did you take something from your father's pockets? Did you take a key from his desk? What did you do? ********** His father..... "No!" Blood ..... He couldn't look, couldn't look at his father's .... body. If he didn't look then it wasn't true. He'd never seen his father dead, so he wasn't .... was he? But that man had tried to kill him ..... He didn't know what he was doing, didn't know how he got there, but sometime later there he was in the street, bare feet painful on the sidewalk, his father's gun in his pocket, clutched in his hand. He was following. The man made no attempt to cover his tracks. He never looked round. He never looked up even as he crossed over roads, forcing cars to swerve to avoid him. He didn't even seem to hear their angry horns. The man was walking, walking ..... two miles, three miles. He seemed to have forgotten his car, still outside his father's house. Perhaps his father would move it, when he woke up. An hour. Two hours. Blood on his feet. His blood. His father's blood. And then he was there at last, slipping in through the door, following.... Along a corridor, up the stairs, although there was an elevator. Why was he making it so easy for him to follow? Was it a trap? Was he going to die too? Not that it mattered.... He hadn't even locked the door. Apartment number 42. Door open, lights off. Silence inside. Silence.... He crept inside, gun slippery in his shaking hand, the barrel illuminated in the faint light from outside, the eerie green glow of the fish tank. The man made no move to defend himself. He could hear him breathing, a quick sigh, even of relief. But he couldn't see him. He needed to see him. Needed to see him die, or it hadn't happened. The man opened his eyes, shiny with tears, blinking in the sudden light. "Who are you?" His voice was a barely-audible croak, drowned with emotion. "You ..... " He couldn't say the word. "You ..... " He bit his lip. ".... my father." "Your father? He had a son!" The man shut his eyes, horror on his face. "He had a son! I .... I didn't know. I'm sorry!" And then he was across the room, pummeling the man with his hands, his fists, his feet. "_He_ apologised to you, and _you_ still....." He still couldn't bring himself to say it. "You....." He was panting now, exhausted by the effort going in to his attack. Although he was only thirteen, he was strong for his age, and his blows were clearly hurting, although the man made no move to defend himself. "Aren't you going to plead for your life?" he said, at last, leaning back exhausted, gun pointing at the man's forehead. Silence. "I'm going to kill you." The man spoke at last. "Don't. Don't do this. It's not the answer. Don't make the mistake I made. It didn't bring her .... It won't bring him back. It's not the answer." His eyes were half-closed by the swelling and blood. "Don't become like me....." His finger tightened on the trigger. "Don't....." He pulled the trigger. The man fell back on the couch, a neat red hole between his eyes. Beneath him, the couch turned red. Slowly, his body slid sideways, head lolling forward, revealing .... The back of his head .... It was all ..... Blood. Blood. Blood. "No!" ********* TAPE 5.06 1205 A: Don't withdraw. Stay with me. Talk to me. (fifteen second interval) A: Can you hear me? (twenty second interval) A: Move your hand if you can hear me? A: No response. Stop the tape. END OF TAPE 5.06 ************ "He doesn't remember!" The man's voice was harsh as he turned away from the one-way glass. "He will." The other man's voice was firm. "We got more this time than on all the other occasions. Try him with a higher dose next time. He knows something. He _will_ remember....." In an ash tray, a cigarette stub glowed briefly and then faded to darkness. ********** He's coming. My father is coming with my computer, his face covered with smiles. I can hear his footsteps at the door.... "Dad!" The door opens. White walls. Cold .... cold and harsh. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere.... I look around, quick movements, quick like a startled animal ensnared by a predator. Look left .... nowhere to hide. Look right .... nowhere to hide. Down? No, nowhere there. Nothing there but cold harsh furniture. "Dad! Where am I?" "It's time to get back into bed." "Dad!" "Have you taken your medicine?" "Dad!" "Let go of that! What have you got that piece of paper plate for?" Cold face looming over me. Cold eyes not meeting mine. Cold hands snatching at my present. "Dad! Help me! He's taking my birthday present -the game you gave me yesterday! He's taking it! Dad!" "Come on - into bed!" Cold hands. Cold, cold hands. "No! Dad!" My throat is raw, though I have only shouted for a few seconds. Why does it feel as if I've screamed for a life- time? "Dad! Help me!" "I need some help here! He's being difficult!" "No!" Cold hands, strong hands. Many many people, reaching for me, holding me, invading me. "Get off me! Leave me alone! Dad!" "Shh! Calm down." A soothing voice, hatred seeping through its false concern. "Calm down. Shh.... You've got a big day tomorrow. A doctor - a nice doctor. He's going to talk to you.... help you get better ......" ********** TAPE 6.01 0910 A: Good morning. B: Who are you? A: I'm a doctor. You can call me Thomas. B: I'm not sick! I don't need a doctor! I .... I don't want to talk to you! .... Leave me alone!" A: There's nothing to worry about. I'm here to help you .... THE END ************ AUTHOR'S NOTE The format of this story is shamelessly plagiarised from "I am the cheese" by Robert Cormier. This is a great book which I've taken to recommending to everyone who stands still long enough. (Being a children's librarian gives you unrivaled opportunities to warp the minds of tomorrow's citizens) Don't be put off by the fact it's published as a young adult's novel. It's brilliant - thought-provoking, very dark, traumatic etc. And, no, he's not paying me to write this....