Hillary_Tail of the Dog (13 page)

“How are you feeling now, Hillary?” he asked cheerfully, as he turned on the recorder and placed it on a rolling over-bed table that had been brought in while Hillary was recuperating from the infection.

Hillary did not reply. She made a point of showing her disapproval by turning her head away from him.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way. I’m on your side, remember?”

She remained silent.

“Do you honestly enjoy being tied to this bed? This is how you want to live?” He sat down beside the bed.

Hillary faced him. She was so angry that she was almost unrecognizable. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her eyes, usually a bright hazel color, seemed dark and ominous as she glared up at him.

Dr. Bentley shuddered involuntary. Maybe Dr. Morrison was right. She was clearly still a disturbed patient who wouldn’t think twice about escaping. Her hair was a mess. It was evident that Monica had not tended to her today and possibly not the preceding days either, as she emitted a faint, but noticeable, rank body odor.

“Does it look like I enjoy being tied to this bed?” Hillary asked in a sharp, icy voice.

“Then let’s work together to change things,” Dr. Bentley said softly.

“You don’t give a damn about me any more than they do,” she said hostilely.

“That’s not true, Hillary. I don’t like seeing you like this, it’s not right. I want to help you, I really, truly do.”

“You just want to control me,” she yelled.

“How would I do that?”

“You’ll hypnotize me and tell me what to think, how to act...I know that’s all you’re trying to do.”

“No, it doesn’t work that way,” Dr. Bentley assured her.

“I might not remember much, but I know I’m not stupid,” Hillary said.

“What have you been remembering?” Dr. Bentley asked curiously.

“Nothing,” Hillary replied, all-too quickly, “I can’t remember a thing, except my nightmares.”

Dr. Bentley had his doubts. If Hillary had been regaining her memory, it would certainly account for the drastic changes in her recent behaviors. He wouldn’t push her. He’d find out soon enough.

“Have you had any more nightmares?”

“No...but...I’m not talking to you,” she responded, sounding very much like a young child.

“Listen, Hillary, by hypnotizing you, there’s no way that I could control what you think or how you behave. I’ll just be able to tap into your subconscious mind, find out why you can’t remember. It could really help you.”

Hillary shook her head.

“I don’t believe you,” she said sharply.

“Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever been anything but kind to you?”

She shrugged as much as possible, given her limited range in motion. She knew he had lied when he told her that she had tried to hurt herself. She knew that she could not trust him, but she had to be clever. She would play along with his game.

“I want to help you,” Dr. Bentley said softly and held her right hand in his. He smiled at her.

In spite of her anger, Hillary felt her cheeks warming and could not help but return his smile. She was suddenly aware of how unsightly she must have been. Monica, who usually bathed her, brushed her hair and teeth, put lotion on her body and kept her clean and tidy had not come to visit her for days—not that she was surprised. She had said some horrible things to Monica and didn’t expect her to ever help her again. She deserved it though. Monica was no better than Dr. Morrison as far as Hillary was concerned.

“I’m such a mess,” she said, lowering her head and turning her head slightly away.

“Nonsense, you’re always lovely,” he said, stretching the truth just a bit. Even in her disheveled state, she was still truly beautiful. It wasn’t her fault that her hair was unkempt or that she hadn’t been cleaned. The blush upon her cheeks only added to her attractiveness.

“Are you married?” she asked, out of the blue, turning her head to look him directly in the eyes.

“Yes,” Dr. Bentley replied.

“Oh,” she said, obviously disappointed, as she lowered her eyes.

“Can you remember whether you had a boyfriend?” Dr. Bentley asked, testing her memory while attempting to deflect attention away from his personal life.

“How would I know that?” she asked, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, that’s right, you can’t remember because you won’t let me hypnotize you,” he said teasingly, with that blue-ribbon smile across his face.

Hillary’s heart raced as she smiled back. His eyes were so intensely blue. Staring deep into them prompted her to remember a room with blue walls. Images flashed in her mind—of people she had known—and she gasped. Her lips parted open and her forehead wrinkled.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dr. Bentley asked. She did not reply.

“Are you in pain?”

She shook her head slowly as she forced the images to fade by thinking about Dr. Bentley’s smile.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him.

“What just happened? What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing. I’ve been getting bad headaches lately.”

“You were remembering something, weren’t you?”

“No, I...I was imagining what your wife must look like,” she lied.

“And that made you gasp?”

“Were you thinking about a boyfriend?”

“I told you,” she said impatiently, “I can’t remember anything.”

“You know you can talk to me, Hillary,” Dr. Bentley said softly. His smile was gone, replaced by that concerned expression Hillary had come to recognize.

“What’s your wife like?” Hillary asked.

“This isn’t about me.”

“Well you ask me tons of questions, why can’t I ask you some?”

“Fair enough, I’ll answer your questions honestly if you answer mine honestly,” he said.

Hillary nodded.

“Have you remembered anything at all that you haven’t told me about?”

“Nope,” she answered abruptly. “Now what’s your wife like?”

“She’s a very nice woman,” Dr. Bentley responded.

“And what does she—”

“Uh-uh...it’s my turn,” he scolded, “what’s the last thing that you can remember?”

“You telling me that your wife is a nice woman,” she said slyly, smiling.

Dr. Bentley smiled again and chuckled lightly.

“Funny,” he said, “very funny, but you know what I mean...the very last thing you can remember before waking up here.”

“I can’t remember anything before waking up here and meeting Dr. Morrison, then Monica, then you.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Uh-uh...it’s my turn,” she mimicked him, with a smile. “How old are you?”

“I’m 36. How old are you?”

Hillary shot him an irritated glance.

“You know I can’t remember. Dr. Morrison said I was fifteen, so I guess I am. How long have you been married?”

Dr. Bentley made a mental note of her response. After a short pause he replied, “seven years…when did Dr. Morrison tell you that you were fifteen years old?”

“I don’t know…when I first met him I guess. Do you have kids?”

“I have a five-year-old daughter…what else did Dr. Morrison tell you then?”

“Uhhh...he told me my name was Hillary...I don’t remember my last name, but I think he told me once....”

“What else?”

“Wait your turn,” she scolded, “what’s your daughter’s name?”

“Amber Skye,” Dr. Bentley said, pride beaming within his eyes. “Can you remember anything else Dr. Morrison told you?”

“Ummm...I think he said something about my parents...” she seemed to be straining to remember. “He said they know that I’m here, that they brought me here so that he could take care of me. I like that name, Amber Skye...it’s so pretty. What’s your wife’s name?”

“Patricia. Did Dr. Morrison say anything else about your parents? Can you remember anything else he said?”

“That’s two,” Hillary said, “...I don’t remember if he said anything else about them. But you told me they don’t visit because it would be too much for me and I might create memories or use their memories as my own or something like that, is that true?”

Dr. Bentley nodded.

“Have you ever cheated on your wife before?” Hillary asked, with an impish smile upon her face.

That’s an odd question,
Dr. Bentley thought, creasing his forehead slightly.

“No, never,” he replied truthfully.

“You’ve never been—”

Dr. Bentley held up his hand to interrupt her.

“It’s my turn,” he said softly.

“No, you went twice,” she argued.

Dr. Bentley smiled and shook his head slowly.

“Okay, go on,” he relented.

“As I was saying,” Hillary said playfully, “have you ever been tempted to cheat on your wife?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little too personal?” Dr. Bentley asked, frowning.

“You ask me personal questions,” she retorted. “I mean, really, how much more personal can it get? I’m naked, tied to a bed, I have Monica bathing me and cleaning up my messes. It’s disgusting.”

There was an edge to her tone that warned Dr. Bentley that he had better let it go if he wanted to keep the lines of communication open. Besides, what different did it make if he had to answer some personal questions? Who was she going to tell anyway?

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, “I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

“Okay...” she replied softly, “...so answer the question, and remember you have to be honest.”

“Yes, I’ve had my share of temptations…it’s natural, I’m human,” he answered. “The girl from that nightmare you had—did she—”

“Now why are you bringing
that up?
” she asked angrily. Her eyes resumed that ominous look, that warning. She was incensed. Dr. Bentley scolded himself for asking about that sensitive topic so soon. He knew he should have waited, but it was too late now.

“I told you about it, didn’t I?” she shouted, “I don’t want to think about it again!”

Despite his better judgment, he persisted. He had always been careful to disarm and even prevent such outbursts. What would happen if he challenged her for a change? Pushed her?

“I’m answering your questions honestly you should answer mine honestly as well. The more you talk about it, the less you’ll fear it.”

She glared at Dr. Bentley. He met her gaze and stared right back at her. He wasn’t backing down this time. He smiled—that incredible smile that he knew softened her. After a long, awkward moment, Hillary sighed loudly. It was an encouraging response.

“What d’ya wanna know?” she asked agitatedly.

“Who was that girl in the nightmare that you had?”

“How would I know? I don’t even know who
I
am,” she said bitterly.

“You said you thought she might have been you at first. Why?”

“It’s my turn,” she said sternly, “would you ever cheat on your wife?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Now, do you remember my question?”

Hillary nodded.

“I guess she looked like me a little. Do you think I’m pretty?”

Dr. Bentley knew where this was headed.

“Sure, you’re a very pretty young girl. How old do you think that girl from your nightmare was?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “thirteen? Did you want to touch me that day you saw me naked?”

Oh my God
, he thought,
this is so wrong, I’ve got to stop this.

“Don’t be silly,” he said quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. “What happened—”

“You’re lying!” she shouted. “You said you would answer the questions truthfully! If you’re not playing by the rules, I won’t either.”

“Hillary, really, my whole reason for being here is to help you, not the other way around. What I say isn’t important at all. I’m trying to help you remember things.”

Hillary didn’t reply. Even his smile wouldn’t help things now, not that Dr. Bentley was smiling. He was greatly annoyed.

“What do you want me to say? You caught me off guard.”

“And?” she asked, copping an attitude.

“And I reacted…I reacted improperly.”

“So you wanted to touch me?”

“No, no I would never—”

“I’m not asking whether you would, I’m asking if you thought about it…if you thought I was sexy.”

Dr. Bentley nodded awkwardly. He was clearly embarrassed.

“
Ha!
” she exclaimed. “I knew you liked me!”

“Okay, but Hillary,
please
, we’ve got to stay on track and work toward getting your memory back. You shouldn’t even be thinking of me like that. I’m old enough to be your father!”

“But you’re so cute...you make me feel...well, I get excited when I see you.”

“And I’m flattered, truly, but one, I’m married, two, I’m your doctor, three, I’m way too old for you, four—”

“Age doesn’t matter. Who knows, maybe I was a whore, maybe I’ve slept with guys even older than you.”

“I sure hope not, but be that as it may, you and I can’t and won’t have that kind of relationship.”

Hillary pouted then smiled playfully.

“Never say never! I bet we will!”

“No, Hillary, we won’t…
never.
Just as long as you understand that,” Dr. Bentley said firmly.

“Why would I feel like this unless I’m used to sleeping around?”

“Well, you’re a teenager, your hormone level is high, but it doesn’t mean you’ve been sexually active, much less a whore. Actually, there’s a good way to find out.”

“You mean one of those exams to see—”

“Oh no,” Dr. Bentley quickly corrected, “I mean when I hypnotize you and help you to get your memory back.”

Hillary shook her head.

“I don’t want to do it,” she said anxiously.

“Why not?”

“What if I tell you things I shouldn’t tell you?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know...anything. What if I say the wrong thing?”

“That’s not possible. There’s no right or wrong, and there’s nothing you could say that you shouldn’t feel comfortable discussing with me at any time, even now. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Will you kiss me?”

“You need to get serious,” Dr. Bentley said sternly, growing increasingly agitated.

“I am serious,” Hillary said, with a straight face.

“No, I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Then I’m not getting hypnotized,” she replied and looked away.