She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,235

From the car came a loud click followed by the low hum of a recording at high volume. This was followed by a voice I recognized immediately.

Kaylie from Penn State, four and a half years earlier in her dorm room.

“Go ahead and put these on.”

A loud metronome came from the GTO’s amplified speakers with a heavy electronic hum behind it.

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

“Okay, Jack, I want you to listen to the rhythm of that sound, like a comforting heartbeat. Breathe in through your mouth, out through your nose, let your breathing fall in time with the sound. It’s all about the sound, that comforting sound. A heartbeat. Visualize a heartbeat, that sound. The rush of your blood, the life flowing through every inch of your body. Warm and comforting. My voice, brings you deeper, faster and deeper, faster and deeper in a warm, calm, peaceful state of relaxation. Like sinking deep down into a warm bath.”

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

“Sinking down and shutting down. Sinking down and shutting down. Sinking down and shutting down completely in the enveloping warmth,” she said from so far away. Repeating. “Warm and calm, a blanket, snug and tight. The blanket holds your arms at your sides, your legs still. You’ve never been so comfortable, your mind never so free.”

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

“Where are you, Jack?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you see?”

“Doctor.”

“You’re at the doctor’s?”

“Doctor.”

My voice, high pitched. Mine but not mine.

This was the missing recording. The one from Kaylie’s microcassette recorder, I was certain.

My voice again, sounding so small, childlike.

“No more, no more, no more, no more, no more.” This same phrase repeated for nearly five minutes, then my voice dropped lower, sounding like a much older man—

“Again,” this deep voice said.

“He might not be able to take it again.” My voice, but an octave higher.

“Again,” the deep voice insisted.

The child voice, droning, “No more, no more, no more, no more.”

Deep voice, “Again, dammit.”

“I’m trying.”

“Cut the radial artery, right there at the wrist.”

“I’m trying.”

“Give me the scalpel.”

“No more, no more, no more. No—”

“Dammit.”

“You can’t do it, either?”

Deep voice, “No.”

My voice, “Momma? Where’s Momma?”

“The sedative is wearing off,” the higher voice said. “More thorazine?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s the boy’s father? Is he here?”

“Out in the waiting room. Want me to get him?”

“Yeah. I want to see if he can do it.”

Two loud clicks. The various voices were replaced by Kaylie again, reading aloud from a psychology text book. Study notes of some kind. A remnant recording. Probably part of whatever was on the tape before she recorded our session.

Stella was staring at me. “What are we listening to? Is that someone at Charter running tests on you?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know.

Another two clicks.

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

“Can you hear me, Jack?”

“Uh huh.”

“What was that?”

“Not sure.”

“When was that?”

“Young.”

“Less than five?”

“Yeah.”

“Less than two?”

“I think so.”

“Let’s go back.”

“I don’t want to.”

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

“Did you see that doctor again? After that?”

“Yes.”

“Take me to the next time. You’re safe with me, Jack. They can’t hurt you. These are only memories.”

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

“Jack?”

Silence.

“Jack?”

“Increase to 75 milliamps,” Deep Voice said.

“We’re already at 75,” High Voice replied.

“His breathing hasn’t changed. Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.”

“Go to 100 milliamps.”

“That’s a fatal level.”

“I’m aware.”

Silence.

“We’re at 100. No change. Breathing, heart rate, all slightly elevated but still within the range of normal.”

“Remarkable,” Deep Voice said. “Go to 150.”

“Increasing amperage to 150 milliamps.”

“No more, no more, no more, no more, no more.”

“Is he protesting because you increased and it’s finally at a level that hurts, or because he wants you to stop altogether?” This was another voice, a pitch somewhere between High Voice and Deep Voice.

Deep Voice said, “Hard to say. Does he use that phrase at home?”

“Maybe with his mother. I’ve never heard him say that.”

That last one hit me like a kick to my gut.

My father was there while they did these horrible things.

Stella’s grip on my arm tightened as she realized it, too.

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

Kaylie again. “Jack, what was that?”

No response.

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

Kaylie said, “Jack, I want you to tell me about the chocolate milk.”

“Chocolate milk?”

“That’s why you came to me, right? Your parents. You wanted to know what happened. You said there was chocolate milk. Take me there. Take me to the moment with the chocolate milk. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

Tick…tock.

Tick…tock.

“He’s been drinking it?” Deep Voice said.

“Every day. Sometimes twice a day.” The middle voice. My father’s voice.

“And you’re mixing it, like we showed you?”

My father said, “Yesterday, I nearly doubled the dose. It didn’t do a damn thing.”

“That’s enough arsenic to take down a horse. You realize that, right?”

A loud click.

The tape stopped.

The scent of vanilla lofted past me from Stella at my side. She stared at