Trauma. Some people call it “The Death of your best self”. That’s not entirely accurate but given what it does to some people, it’s understandable why they think that. My name is Amelia Chance, and I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder when I was 18. I had broken up with my boyfriend in high school, since we were planning to go to different colleges. He tied me up, gagged me and stuffed me in the trunk of his car, obviously drunk and shouting about all the terrible things he was going to do to me. He said he had even called over several of his buddies, saying in explicit detail all the things that he was going to have them all do to me.
I spent the entire time he was driving bawling my eyes out, and fought back as hard as I could when I was dragged out of the trunk and stripped naked. I kept trying to shout out, to beg him to stop and to ask him to just calm down and talk to me but the gag made even begging impossible. Eventually, the friends he had called did show up and I tried to get away. All that got me was a kick to the ribs from my ex as the others slowly walked towards me with drunken lust in their eyes. All I could do was shudder in fear, closing my eyes and shaking my head like it would help me wake up from that nightmare. Then a gunshot went off.
His name is Jeffrey Goodman, one of the friends my ex had called, and he threatened to shoot every one of them if they didn’t back away from me immediately. My ex tried to call him out, thinking he was bluffing and got a nine millimeter bullet in his leg for his troubles. The others realized that Jeffrey was serious and did as he asked, not wanting any part of the agony that my ex was going through at that moment. Jeffrey helped me get to my feet and walked me over to his car. He had been the designated driver when the rest of my ex’s friends had gotten the call, so they weren’t able to follow us once he had driven off considering the trouble they were having standing up straight.
Jeffrey used a utility knife in his glove box to help cut me loose. My first question to him was of course was he was going to do with me, tears still stinging my eyes. He responded by telling me that we were going to go to the police and report the others. Of course, I didn’t believe him at first but he proved true to his word. He had brought me to the police, made sure I was cared for and told nothing but the truth of that night. A female officer escorted me away while my parents were called and I didn’t see or even hear about Jeffrey until years later…
My alarm blared, and I wish I could say it woke me up but I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night. Yesterday had been the 8th anniversary of that terrible night and even the thought of dreaming in my sleep terrified me. I had shut myself off from the world ever since then, gained weight and fallen into a state of depression. I had tried everything I could think of to feel better. Therapy, meditation, yoga and countless other methods but nothing seemed to work. I had given up hope over ever feeling happy and safe again, instead just dragging myself through every day.
If I had to pick a rock bottom, it would probably have been last week. The only job I had managed to keep hold of was as a barista at a small coffee shop. I had practiced a fake smile and managed to keep the job for a while but like everything else in my life it was ruined by my trauma. One of the customers would come in frequently and flirt with me. It was likely harmless, but I just couldn’t be comfortable or even fake it. One day, he had grabbed my hand while flirting with me and I just lost it. I had thrown fresh coffee in his face and ran into the background, shaking and bawling until my manager told me to go home for the day.
Unsurprisingly, I lost my job for injuring a customer so now I’m sitting at home, once again afraid to venture outside. This has to stop. I need to get control of my life again, I just don’t know how. Hopefully, I’ll either figure it out or luck into the answer before I run out of money and end up on the streets. For now though, I needed to will myself to get out of bed and try and find a way to stay awake enough to look for the answer.
I groggily push my covers off of myself and zombie-shuffle my way to the kitchen for a few cups of coffee. I may take a nap later, but not until I have no choice but to pass out and confront the nightmares again. Unfortunately, just thinking about the nightmares makes the memory that causes them run through my head and I nearly collapse. I don’t want to think about it anymore, but I know that’s not going to happen. I’ve been trying to forget the fear and the pain for years with no success. I also can’t forget the one regret I’ve had…Jeffrey.
I was able to tell the police some of what had happened, and Jeffrey was very honest the night he had brought me to the station. His words and mine got my ex and his bastard friends all arrested, but the bastards all got to say their piece too. As a result, Jeffrey had been criminally charged for using the gun he had used to rescue me since it wasn’t actually his. It had been unfair but there wasn’t anything I could do. He probably wished he never helped me, at least that’s what I figured when I saw his disappointed face when he was sentenced. I lost track of him after that, mostly out of wanting to avoid anyone and anything that could remind me of that night.
Fate seemed to have other ideas though, as I sat and drank my first cup of coffee. A newspaper was delivered to me by a friendly neighbor lady of mine who often brings me my mail as a favor, and who else do I find in an article but Jeffrey Goodman. Apparently he had done well for himself, despite having a criminal record, since the article mentioned some breakthrough new trauma treatment he had apparently invented. That new treatment was the only thing that kept me reading, instead of closing the paper and trying to fight back the memories again. The memories were assaulting me right now, but I kept reading. I needed hope, and god damn if I wasn’t going to brave something to get it.
The article had his name and the name of his office. I grabbed my phone off of the counter, unplugging it from the charger and started an internet search for an address. There probably wasn’t any way that Jeffrey was going to help me but I had to at least try. It was a surprisingly simple matter to find his office and the phone number to it, so I dialed the number and waited. The phone rang about 5 times before somebody answered.
“Goodman Psychiatric. This is Christina, may I ask who is calling?” the girl on the other end of the line spoke to me.
“Um…” I begin nervously, “My name is…is Amelia Chance. I saw about Jeffrey..I mean Mister Goodman’s new treatment in the paper and wanted to know if I could possibly make an appointment?” I started chewing my nails as I waited for her answer.
“I’m afraid that treatment isn’t really available to the general public as of right now ma’am. I could schedule you in for regular therapy if you would like. Can I get a phone number to reach you at?” she asked me. I knew there wasn’t any point in trying to bargain with her. For now, I’d just need to get in touch with Jeffrey and ask him personally if he could try it on me.
“My phone number is 659-7723. I have the same area code as your office, but when you tell him that I called could you do me a favor?” I asked, twirling my hair nervously. “When you tell him that Amelia Chance called, could you mention I’m the Amelia Chance who sat next to him in Mister Mahwinney’s trigonometry class in high school?”
“An old high school friend, huh? You know, if you were just hoping to catch up with him I could just let him know you called. We don’t necessarily need to make a therapy appointment.” she replied sweetly to me. Her tone and attitude actually manage to bring a small smile to my face as I take a moment to think before I answer her.
“Sure. That might be for the best. Thank you for your help.” I reply.
“Not a problem. I’ll let him know right away and he’ll give you a call back when he can. Have a good day, ma’am.” She says before hanging up. I look at my phone, unsure of whether or not I would actually receive a call back from him. I didn’t have anything else to hope for though, so I decided that I’d wait for the rest of the day. If I didn’t hear back from him, then I’d give up and try to find something else. My eyes wandered back to the newspaper with his picture on it and I gave it a closer look. He had slimmed down a bit from high school, but still had those piercing blue eyes that she remembered. Those eyes had honestly scared me a little in high school, made me feel like he was looking right into my very soul every time we made eye contact.
It seemed ironic then, that he became a psychologist. I allowed myself a chuckle at that thought and walked over to the couch. I turned on the TV, wanting some background noise to keep me awake but it backfired. I couldn’t turn the volume up too much because it would disturb my neighbors but I was just too tired and there wasn’t anything that wasn’t relaxed or slow on right now. I lost the battle with my own exhaustion in less than three minutes and fell asleep holding my now-empty coffee cup. Just like I feared, the memory had become nightmare and I was right back to being tied up and helpless.
Fear coursed through my veins and tears stung my eyes. I knew what was coming. In my nightmares, there was no reprieve and no last minute rescues. My ex and his friends would do what they wanted with me and I wake up screaming, just like every other time. It never got any easier, no matter how many times it happened. It always hurt, it was always scary and I was always begging for help that never came. This time, it was happening in slow motion. My clothes got torn off, my ex sneered wickedly and mocked me in a voice that got more demonic as he kept talking and I was surrounded by the rest of the bastards.
BRRRRZZ. BRRRZZZ. BRRRRZZZ. I’m woken up in the nick of time by my phone going off and I reach out for it with my eyes still closed.
“Hullo?” I answer in a daze.
“Amelia Chance? This is Jeff…er, Jeffrey Goodman? My secretary said you had called. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.” he said to me. My eyes snapped open, hearing his familiar voice. It was definitely the same voice that had told my ex and his friends to get the hell away from me but it sounded different now. Older, yeah but something else too. It took me a second to realize…he sounded happy. “Amelia, are you there?”
“Oh! Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just woke up.” I responded with a nervous chuckle.
“Well, I can call back if this is a bad time.”
“NO!” I shout, panicked for a moment before I calm down. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell.” I say in a quiet, apologetic tone. “Just…I was having a nightmare. You actually pulled me out of it…again.” I said that last word quietly, fighting back my anxiety.
“Oh.” he says to me, pausing for a moment. “Damn, I just realized today’s date.” His voice sounds soft and sweet now. “Are you doing okay?” I sit there for a moment, torn between wanting to be honest with him and wanting to shove my problems on him. Thankfully, my logical side reminds me that I called him to get his help and I manage to continue speaking.
“No, I’m not.” I admit, tears making their way into my voice. “I’m sorry to call you like this, especially after what you went through because you helped me but…I need help.” My admittance to him breaks down the last flimsy wall of her self-control and I start to sob uncontrollably. “I haven’t been able to function, and I’ve tried everything to help but nothing’s worked. Please, I need your help. The memories of that night won’t let me live my life.” I choke out through my tears.
He doesn’t respond to me at all, merely breathing on the other end of the phone and I begin to worry. What if he refuses, or just tells me that it’s not his problem? What if he doesn’t want to remember that night either, where he lost all of his high school friends just to save me? I desperately want to scream at him to answer me, to say anything to me but I manage to just barely keep enough of my cool to stay silent and wait for his answer. He makes me wait for over 2 minutes before he finally says anything to me.
“Sorry for the silence, Amelia. I was looking over the note my secretary for me about what you were telling her. She wrote down that you wanted to try the experimental procedure that I created. What exactly do you know about it?” He asked me.
“Not much. It was just talked about in the newspaper I got today. I’ve…I’ve tried standard therapy and pretty much everything else you could think of. Animals, hypnotism…even fake-ass fucking magic!” I stop speaking and sigh. “I..I’m lost Jeffrey. I know it’s unfair, to ask you save me again but I’m at the end of my rope. Please.”
“I…” he stopped speaking and sighed deeply, “Alright, alright. Come by my office tomorrow morning and I’ll explain exactly how it works. If you still want to try my method..” he sighed again, “I’ll get a waiver ready for you to sign. Just…It’s going to be a doozy and you might leave more fucked up then when you came in. Tomorrow morning, let’s say 8 or 8:30.You’ve been warned.” He said to me in a serious tone before he hung up. I sat and listened to the silence for a moment as his word replayed themselves in my mind.
Whatever this procedure was, it was apparently something dangerous. Any normal person would have probably just decided it wasn’t worth the risk, but I haven’t been normal since high school. If this could help, even a little, then I had to go for it no matter what the risks were. Otherwise, I would just continue to die inside until I finally had no other reason to keep going. I shuddered at where my thoughts had gone and put my phone back in my pocket.
Chapter 2
8:30 AM. Of course I’d been up since 5, barely having gotten much sleep due to my nightmares but I’d spent a good amount of that time getting as ready as I could for the day. I’d taken a full-on bath instead of my usual shower after working out for the first time in god only knows how long, put on make-up and picked out the outfit I hoped would be the first one I’d wear in my new life. It was a dark-blue dress with a slit up one leg, the sexiest thing I still owned after having thrown everything away and I only kept this one because my late grandma had bought it for me.
Underneath the dress were black lace panties and a matching bra, worn more for their comfort than their style. Finally, I wore a pair of short heels that showed off the toenails I’d painted. I made every effort not to dress conservatively today, knowing that I needed to break out of all my routines if I was ever going to be able to change for the better.
My heels clacked softly as I walked slowly towards the door, forcing myself not to turn around and run back home. There was a small but not unpleasant chiming sound as I entered the office and looked around. The decor was nice enough, plain strong colors that made it not seem like any sort of hospital or doctor’s office except for the usual sight of chair against the wall and a coffee table with magazines piled on top of it. Lining the walls were a few pictures of various landscapes, people and copies of some kind of award certificates. I didn’t even really have time to look around though before a voice directed itself towards me.
“Excuse me ma’am, do you have an appointment?” the secretary at the far desk asked me. If I recall correctly, she said her name was Christina yesterday. She was a pretty young thing, with blonde hair done up in a bun and small, little glasses that complimented her green eyes and business attire perfectly. “Ma’am?” she asked again, snapping me out of my daze long enough to make me realize I’d been standing in one spot for the past several minutes. I took a deep breath and put on the best smile I could, pathetic though it was.
“Sorry, my mind wandered.” I said to her. “I called yesterday and made an appointment for 8:30 this morning with Mister Goodman. My name is Amelia Chance.” She raised her eyebrow at me suspiciously and I wasn’t sure if she knew I was the woman who had in fact called her earlier, but she stayed completely professional and just opened up a nearby book on her desk. She looked through it for several moments before turning back to me with an extremely pleasant smile on her face.
“It looks like my boss booked your appointment himself. This is HIS handwriting. You must be pretty special.” she says to me, closing the book gently and picking up her phone. She punches a few buttons on it and begins speaking. “Hello sir, it’s Christina. I’m just letting you know that the 8:30 appointment you wrote in is here. Shall I send her in?” She goes silent for a moment, clearly listening to the voice on the other side as I gulp nervously. “Of course sir.” She hangs up the phone and turns back to me. “He says to go right on in.”
I breathe out, unaware until that moment that I had been holding my breath and wordlessly nodded and thanked her as I moved past her towards the door with Jeffrey’s name on it. My hand trembled a little as I reached for the knob. I knew I was still afraid, even though it was unfair to Jeffrey to be so. He’d offered to help me, but all my mind would let me think of was the pain of the memory of that night that had ruined my life. That I had let ruin my life. I forced myself to choke down my fear as I opened the door to his office and let myself in.
“Amelia?” he says, his voice deeper than I remember it being but definitely still him. My first glimpse of him was the most pleasant shock I’d received in a long while. He’d slimmed down from what I remembered, almost in exact proportion to the bit of weight I’d gained in the years since we last saw each other. He still had that thick chestnut brown hair of his, but he’d grown a very short, well-trimmed beard to compliment it. His deep-blue eyes caught mine and I felt almost hypnotized by them. He’d become quite handsome in the years since high school, his semi-casual clothing of a button-up shirt and slacks only lending him an air of maturity. Seeing him now, like this finally made it hit home of just how long it had been since that terrible night.
“I..Jeffrey? Is that really you?” I ask, gulping a bit and barely able to believe my eyes. Seeing him like this, I couldn’t help but feel ashamed of myself. He had gone to court and been sentenced by a judge for using that gun to save me, but while I kept myself stuck in that state of being scared, he had moved on with his life and made something of himself. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as that thought hit me full force. “You got handsome.” I say without thinking, covering my mouth a moment later with both my hands. He chuckles in response.
“Thank you.” he says, mirth evident in his voice. “I hope you aren’t too hurt by me saying this, but I could tell by your voice on the phone how much the…incident hurt you.” he says to me sadly, looking at me with the same pity I’ve heard from nearly every person who’s ever found out about my trauma.
“If you’re worried about hurting me, then why bring it up at all?” I ask, trying not to let my hurt show in my voice. I can tell by the look on his face I didn’t succeed though.
“Because you came to me for help Amelia. I’ve never helped anyone by being anything other than blunt and fully honest with them.” he says, slowly approaching me. I have to fight the urge to step back as he comes right up to me and gently takes my hand in his own. “I wish you didn’t have to go through with this…that I’d learned what Jason and the others had planned before we had started driving that night so I could have stopped them or at least warned you. I’m so sorry Amelia.” he says to me gently, never looking away from my eyes the whole time.
I’m speechless, hearing him say those words to me. I came here expecting him to be angry with me, unwilling to help. I had dressed up as well as I did in the hopes that maybe he’d find me attractive enough that he’d help me even if just to try and get laid. Yet here he was, staring gently at me with nothing but kindness. Clearly I’d chosen the wrong man to date all those years ago. Even hearing Jason’s name after all this time didn’t send me into the panic I normally experience when he’s referred to as anything other than my ex.
“No Jeffrey,” I say to him, tears once again stinging my eyes, “I’m sorry. I should have been there at your trial all those years ago, instead of frozen by my fear of having to face that night. I’ve let that fear ruin not just my life, but a portion of your own as well. Please, could you find it in you to forgive me for my cowardice?”
“No Amelia.” he says, still smiling but letting go of my hand. “I won’t forgive you because you haven’t done anything to me that you need to be forgiven for. You went through an experience that drives most people often to permanent depression and far too often, suicide. Now, how can I help you?” he asks me gently. “I know you said you wanted to try my new procedure, but I have to warn you that it’s not what you’re probably expecting.”
“Well…” I said, taking a deep, shaky breath in an effort to control my new mix of old nerves and newfound relief, “Like I told you, I’ve been trying everything I can think of to try and be normal again…”
“I’m going to stop you right there Amelia.” Jeffrey said, interrupting me with a raised palm. “Normal is a strong word and highly inaccurate to boot. You don’t need to normal. Nobody does. What you need is to be happy and healthy, and it’s very hard to have one of those things without the other. So let’s break it down into the simplest terms we can, okay?” he says, still using that wonderful, soothing voice of his. I gulp, nodding my head in response before taking a breath and speaking.
“I’m afraid Jeffrey. I’m afraid every single day. I’m afraid to get close to people because I worry that they’ll betray me like Jason did. I’m afraid to go to sleep because I’m afraid of suffering the nightmare of relieving that night….the night you saved me.” I say to him. “I never thanked you for that Jeffrey. I’m sorry about that and I know it’s a bit late now but…thank you for saving me that night.” He smiles at me, nodding gently and motioning for me to continue speaking.
“Fear has run my life ever since that night Jeffrey.” I continue, tearing up again. “I can’t live like this anymore. I’ve lost all my friends, my parents are sick of dealing with me and…well, look at me! I used to be proud of my body, but now I’m fat and ugly and…” Jeffrey silences me, putting a finger to my lips and staring into my tear-filled eyes with that gentle look of his.
“Amelia…” he says, his tone as gentle as his eyes, “You’re not fat, nor ugly, nor anything else you were about to say. You’re sad and lonely and afraid because a handful of very bad people tried to do something terrible to you once. But you know what?” he asks, smiling warmly at me, “You’ve never given up, despite all your pain. You told me you’ve tried so many things to get your life back under your control. You may have been encumbered by your fear for all these years but you’ve never yielded to it, and that makes you pretty amazing. You know that?”
I stand there awestruck by his words, his compassion and let him gently lower me to a chair so I can finally sit with him. The seat itself was very plush and comfortable, but I was barely able to notice that as Jeffrey strolled right back behind his desk and took his own seat. He pulled out a few papers, forms of some kind by the looks of them and went right back to looking me in the eyes.
“I’m going to be honest Amelia, I mostly agreed to this meeting to tell you that my procedure wasn’t right for you and I had every intention of simply sending you home with the number of a colleague of mine who would have given you wonderful psychiatric care. However…” he paused, pushing the papers towards me. Now that they were closer I could see that they were release forms. “Now that I’ve seen you in person…I can tell this isn’t just some cry for attention or wanting to try some new thing just because it’s new. Your desperation is very much real, so I’m going to tell you exactly what happens with my procedure and then I’m going to give you a pen. Whether or not you decide to sign those forms and follow through with my procedure will be entirely up to you, okay?”
I nod at him, making sure that he knew he had my full attention with eye contact and body language. He looked at me for several more moments, almost seeming like he wished I would change my mind right then and there. I’ll admit that his reluctance was making me a bit nervous, but he’d already proven that he could be trusted with my life years ago on that terrible night. I had no problems trusting him now. I’d swallow my fear for now, and he’d help me conquer it entirely.
“My procedure isn’t really something I would call therapy. The most accurate description I could give it would be a personality rewrite. You’ll still have your memories, but…well, you’d be completely different from how you are now. I came up with this as something to use on hardcore criminals honestly. You know, completely change the murderers and rapists of the world and hopefully make them harmless. I’ve only had two test runs with my process and I’m not really sure of the long term effects as of yet.” he pauses, turning to me and seeing if I understand what he’s said to me so far. I give him a slightly nervous nod and he continues.
“I honestly have no idea how or even if my treatment will affect you. I hadn’t really thought of using it for victims of trauma like this before, but if you’re really sure that you want to go through with this then I’ll give you my best guess as to what may happen. Okay?” he says to me. I only nod again in response, making sure that I keep eye contact with him at all times. “Well, we’d be targeting the parts of your psyche that experience the trauma whenever the memories surface. Or in simpler terms, you’ll still remember what happened to you but your brain will process it in an entirely different way. Maybe it’ll just be like seeing a traumatic scene in a movie where you have an emotional response to it but it’ll seem to distant to actually hurt you…or…” he pauses, clearly unsure of whether or not he should even continue as he adjusts the neckline of his shirt.
“Please Jeffrey. Whatever you’re worried about, I promise you I can at least handle hearing about it. Please, continue.” I say to him. He looks at me for a moment, then takes a deep breath and continues.
“Well, like I said I can’t say for sure what would happen. The source of your trauma is in relation to both violence and sex, so you could become worse. Possibly turning into a meek coward who makes your current self seem brave, or even possibly have the other way where you think it’s no longer a big deal and think you were just being whiny. The only thing I can say for certain is that if you go through with this, then the woman you are now will likely cease to exist entirely. You would be replaced by a version of you with your memories and none of the personality built up by those memories.” He goes silent again when he finishes the last sentence and pulls an ornate pen out of a drawer.
I watch him place the pen on top of the stack of waivers and forms that he had pushed towards me earlier. There was a sad look in his eyes as I looked away from him and at the pen and forms. He basically just told me that his procedure wasn’t going to fix me, but was instead going to erase me and have some new personality take over my life. Going through with this would mean the end of me…but it would also be the end of my fear controlling me. It would be the end of the weak, pathetic wreck I’d become and the start of someone new carrying on my memories and experiences like they’d watched a film of my life.
It took me all of ten seconds to finish deciding as I grabbed the pen and quickly started signing every piece of paper on his desk. Like Jeffrey said, I deserve to be happy and healthy and I can’t do that as myself. I’ll be someone new, and put my faith in him to make that someone stronger than me.
Chapter 3
I wish I had known ahead of time that there was going to be a lot of prep work involved in this procedure. It’s been three days since I’d signed the paperwork and I’ve had to drink this nasty gunk three times a day ever since. At least the memory of how disgusting this is has been a good distraction. Ironically, I’ve had the best sleep of my life ever since I started drinking it. Something about it prevents me from dreaming so I haven’t woken up in a panic or even screaming at all. It’s been a mixed bag the past few days, but the sleep has been heaven. I’d never thought my bed could be so comfortable, and the thought that I’ll be passing it onto the next Amelia brings a smile to my face. In some ways, this is a sort of suicide but I can’t help but think of it as my rebirth instead. Maybe I’ll change my name once my persona has shifted to whatever I become after I finally go through with the procedure.
Jeffrey of course has been trying to dissuade me from going through with it, but I’ve stayed determined. It’s ironic that I’ve found more strength in the past few days as I march towards the end of me as I am right now than I have in the years since my near-rape. The thought makes this last disgusting drink in my hand go down easier than the last as I look at the calendar. This evening is the appointment for the procedure. I’d toast to the success of my future self, but Jeffrey told me I can’t have alcohol until after the treatment’s finished.
I smile as I rinse the glass out, throwing out the container of the fluid I’ve been drinking for the past few days. My eye catches my phone on the counter and it occurs to me I haven’t told either of my parents about what I’m about to do. A pang of guilt shoots through me for a moment but I shake my head vigorously and quickly banish the feeling away. I can’t call them, no matter how guilty I may feel. Jeffrey can’t talk me out of going through with the procedure, but my mom would definitely be able to. I shake my head again. I won’t let her or dad find out about this. All that will happen from their perspective will be that their daughter will have made a miraculous breakthrough against her anxiety and depression. I’ll finally be the daughter they deserve.
I smack myself, a little ashamed of my thought despite how much I feel it to be the truth. They’d be rightfully upset if they knew I was thinking like that but it’s my choice in the end. I’ll give myself over to the new me entirely. The new me will be happy. The new me will be loved. The new me won’t be afraid and will embrace life in its entirety. First though, the current me has to grab my car keys and drive over to make sure I’m on time for my appointment.
I grab my keys and take one last look at myself in the mirror. The sleep I’ve managed to get has done me wonders. The bags under my eyes have completely disappeared, my complexion’s become a little less pale since I’ve stopped keeping my blinds and curtains shut all the time and without the stress-eating and drinking I can already see a very tiny amount of weight loss in my face. I feel good, thinking that I’ll be beautiful once I’ve finally become active again, and head out the door to my old car. My junker’s from the 90s but it’s reliable and starts up right away.
The radio refuses to work properly, only playing heavy static with the barest bits of talking and music so I shut it off entirely. The silence leaves me alone with my thoughts. For what I’m hoping is the last time, the memory of that night so long ago tries to haunt me. For the first time though, I’m not afraid. Now…now I’m pissed. My shitty ex-boyfriend threw a hissy fit and ruined my god damned life because I didn’t want to live my life his way. The worst part was, he still won in the end. He won because I let him. I let the fear and the pain control my life.
I scream and slam my fist on the dashboard as tears come to my eyes. I’m angry with the world, with fucking Jason…and with myself. Now…now with this new hope in my life, I finally have strength to face what happened to me but now I just want it to fuck off. I know me, and I know that I can’t take this burst of rage and strength as permanent. I’ve felt this way before, though never with anyone or anything other than myself before now. I suppose being driven into a corner has brought this out in me. Now though, there’s no more regressing back into fear. Now there’s just the surrender left. I’ll surrender to the procedure, to the new me, the same way I’ve been surrendering to the pain and fear for so much of my life.
I see Jeffrey’s building come up on my right and I slow my car down to make the turn. The sun’s gone most of the way down and I’m worried for a second as I see a bunch of signs of the whole thing being closed. I fear that this whole thing has been a terrible prank for a moment until I see a very solemn looking Jeffrey step outside of a door and direct me on where to park my car. I take a deep breath, ready to follow his directions and finally get a life.
Chapter 4
I lay on the padded operating table, fully clothed in a simple but comfortable outfit of just a t-shirt and some workout shorts. I had considered dressing up again like I had when I made the commitment to go through with this procedure half a week ago but decided against it. I just wanted to be as comfortable as possible tonight, before I change into someone else. Jeffrey had of course tried to dissuade me when I had stepped out of the car, but I refused to change my mind. Now though, he was all business as he fiddled with some large machine that almost seemed like a moveable CAT scan unit. He had told me before he started setting it up that I needed to lay down and relax myself as much as possible. Of course I asked what the machine was going to physically DO before I agreed to lay down.
He had explained everything in a very studious, professional manner to me, telling me that the machine was a sound and light device that was going to use a series of various stimuli to rewire my brain. I was of course nervous as all hell when he insisted that I lay down on the table and a large part of me worried that I had come willingly into a trap. That I was going to get strapped down and used against my will but when I had laid down he simply smiled at me, stroked my hair and told me that it was important for me to relax as much as possible.
I admit that his gentle mannerisms towards me as I lay down stoked a fire in me that I had thought long dead. I’d almost lost myself in his eyes as he spoke to me and I’d felt the smallest urge to lean up and kiss his lips as he spoke to me. I smiled at the thought, wondering how my life would have been different if I had dated him in high school instead of Jason. If we’d have split up or stayed together, trying to date long distance. Obviously, he made something of himself despite technically having a criminal record. I can only imagine how much better off he may have been if that terrible night had never happened in the first place.
I glance back over at him, still doing something with that large machine of his. I couldn’t even begin to guess what that something is, but I continued smiling all the same. It’s funny, seeing him working the thing like a mad scientist. All he would need is a lab coat and the look would be complete. I giggle at the contrast between what my imagination has put him in versus the simple button-up shirt and slacks he’s actually wearing right now. He turns to me, catching my eye and speaks to me.
“I know I told you to relax, but what exactly are you laughing about over there Amelia?” he asks me. A blush fills my cheeks as I briefly debate over whether or not to tell him the truth about my thoughts. I’m not exactly comfortable with what he might think of me, but the fact that this is my last night as who I am right now bolsters my confidence and I just smile and tell him the truth.
“Actually, I was just thinking that if you were wearing a lab coat that we’d probably look like the set of an old sci-fi or horror movie.” I tell him. To my pleasant surprise, he actually laughs pretty hard before turning back away from me.
“I suppose you have a point there.” he says to me. “All we need is a dark, stormy night and a hunchbacked assistant and we’d have a pretty good Frankenstein-esque setup.” Even with his back turned, I see him wipe a tear from his eye. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling good. We’re actually ready to begin now.” He begins wheeling the machine over, grunting slightly from the exertion as he continues to speak to me. “Now, I’ll admit that there’s a bit of guesswork involved here but if all goes according to plan then your new persona will manifest itself within a few minutes.”
The machine gets positioned behind me and he stops pushing it for a moment to catch his breath. I brace myself when he stops, expecting him to ask me one last time to abandon the procedure but he says nothing as he normalizes his breath. He hits a switch on the machine and a curved screen extends forward from the machine directly over my head. It stops after covering my entire head as well as a good portion of my chest and I patiently wait for the machine to turn on. My nerves are nearly shattered, a large part of my brain screaming at me to get out and run back home but I take a large gulp and steel myself for what’s about to happen next.
I hear Jeffrey hit a few more switches, though I can no longer see him with the screen taking up my entire field of few. Suddenly, soft music starts to play from the screen. I don’t really recognize the melody, but it’s some very soothing soft synthesizer music or something like it at least. The screen starts to change as the music plays on, shining like starlight and expanding like a well-done 3D effect in a movie. The more I look at it, the more the effect seems to suck me into it. My breathing picks up in pace but I don’t feel any sense of panic as I lose myself in the lights and music.
“Good, Amelia.” I hear Jeffrey say, his voice somehow sounding both intimately close and a million miles away. “Just stay relaxed, and think about the kind of person you wish to be. Let your mind go over every good thought and feeling you can muster.” he says calmly to me. I try doing as he says, finding it hard to focus my thoughts as I fight off the wave of bad memories trying to vie for dominance in my mind while the machine does whatever it’s doing to me.
My consciousness slips further and further from me as I try to obey Jeffrey’s instruction. My life’s been full of more bad memories than good ones, so I focus on the other thing he told me to…my feelings. I think back to how I’ve felt the past few days; my feelings of strength, of confidence, the way I felt when I looked in the mirror before I drove over here and saw myself as beautiful for the first time since high school. My mind drifts peacefully as the painful memories find less and less foothold in my mind and a smile comes onto my face. My thoughts turn to how happy I am that I’ve gone through with this procedure…how happy I am that I took the chance to reach out to Jeffrey for help.