And then…
Nothing.
No face. No eyes. Not even a goddamn jawline. Just that same hand reaching toward me. A man’s large hand, maybe blood on the knuckles, maybe not. My child self reaches for him…then it’s all gone.
Fuck!
“Somewhere inside me, I know I need to remember. I just don’t know why.”
That feeling, it gnaws at me. Like the memory alone could unravel everything.
Margo nods thoughtfully. “Emilia…I know you’ve been coming here for a while now, and I know we’ve hit walls with this memory. Traditional talk therapy can only go so far with certain kinds of trauma.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“There are other strategies we can try. Have you ever considered hypnotherapy?”
“Like…hypnosis?”
“In a clinical setting, yes. With trauma-informed guidance. It’s not like the movies. You’re not unconscious, not out of control. You’re relaxed. Your mind becomes more receptive, and sometimes, those buried pieces? They start to surface.”
I sit there, chewing on the idea.
“Alternatively, you can explore EMDR, or somatic processing. Both have shown results in uncovering repressed memories, especiallythose tied to early trauma.”
“What exactly is EMDR?” I fidget with the hem of my sleeve. “And somatic processing? I’ve heard the terms, but…”
She smiles, calm and reassuring. “EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. It’s a method where a therapist uses bilateral stimulation, usually guided eye movements or taps, to help the brain reprocess traumatic memories. It doesn’t erase them, but it can reduce the emotional intensity. Sometimes it helps unlock pieces of those memories that got stuck.”
“Okay…” I nod slowly. “And the other one?”
“Somatic processing is more body-based. It’s focused on the idea that trauma doesn’t just live in the mind; it lives in the body. So instead of justtalkingabout what happened, it helps you tune into the physical sensations connected to those memories. Sometimes that’s where the missing details are. Trapped in tension, posture, or how your body responds to certain triggers.”
I absorb her words, trying to picture myself doing either of those things. Sitting still while my eyes follow a finger. Letting my body lead the way instead of my head.
It sounds…weird. But nothing else has worked, and if there’s even a chance that one of these methods could help me remember what happened that night—who was in that house, who pulled that trigger—I should take it.
Because this dream isn’t just a nightmare anymore. It’s a key. I don’t know to what, but I know it means something.
“Would it work?”
“There are no guarantees. But if this is something real, if your mind is trying to protect you from it, it might be the only way to find the missing pieces.”
My fingers knot in my lap, the burden of it all bearing down. “I’ll think about it.”
“Well, let me give you a card for a friend who specializes in all ofthese things, and you can decide what to do with that.”
“Alright.” I take the card from her outstretched hand.
I’m not sure what’s holding me back. Maybe it’s fear. Or maybe my mind is protecting me for a reason.
Because whatever’s buried there…it was never meant to be dug up.
CHAPTER NINE
EMILIA
The sun is already pushingthrough the slit in my curtains when I blink my eyes open. It spills across my face in soft gold, and for a second, I forget where I am.
