Page 15

chapter fourteen

Black Friday

Kenny’s mind was a chaotic mess.

He couldn’t process it all. Not Aaron’s revelation, not his mother’s death, and certainly not the sight of DI Jack Bentley standing on his doorstep with that damn folder under his arm.

“You better come in.” Kenny opened the door wider as Jack stepped inside and he had to kick away the pile of clothes still left there, along with the box of his life.

Jack arched an eyebrow. “That’s mess, Kenny.”

“I’m embracing it.” Kenny gestured for Jack to step through to the lounge.

“I can see why.” Jack glanced down at Aaron on the sofa in an old pair of joggers and T-shirt that Kenny had probably worn brand new when it would have been Jack he’d offered a drawer to.

Kenny awaited the usual back and forth from them both. But the tension that had once defined their interactions was suddenly gone, and Kenny watched them exchange polite nods and tight smiles as Jack remained standing at the edge of the coffee table. Kenny didn’t have the headspace to figure out what conversation they might have had other than the cause of his mother’s death to warrant their sudden ceasefire.

So he got to business. “Well? What have you got?”

Jack pointed the folder toward Aaron. “You want me to…?”

“Yes. He knows everything. Because you fucking told him.”

“Maybe if you kept him on a tighter leash, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Hey!” Aaron piped up, lips curling into a half-hearted pout. “I’m a free-range puppy.”

“You’re a feral rottweiler, and you know it.”

Aaron blew Jack a kiss, all mischief and bravado, but when he turned back to Kenny, the act slipped and the guilt lurking behind his eyes, the weight pressing into his shoulders, heavier than his usual brand of reckless defiance had Kenny in bits. Tension bled out of him as the sharp edges of his anger dulled. He hated himself for snapping. Hated that his frustration had turned into blame when this wasn’t Aaron’s fault.

If anything, it was his.

He hadn’t stopped Aaron. Hadn’t protected him from the inevitable pain of looking his mother in the eye again. Whatever Roisin had done, whatever she had said to him in that godforsaken prison, it had left its mark. Kenny could see it. And no amount of bravado, no sharp-edged grins or snarky remarks, could hide it from him.

But Jack handed him the folder and dragged him back to that mess. “We’ve had the toxicology report back from the lab. Chong briefed me earlier. They found traces of phenobarbital in your mum’s system.”

“Phenobarbital? Are you sure?” Kenny grabbed the folder and flipped through the pages.

Jack nodded. “That’s what the lab found. While it’s possible the care home administered it, I haven’t been able to confirm that yet. They’re stonewalling me. Protocols, privacy policies, you name it. But here’s what we know. It wasn’t part of her prescribed meds. It’s a controlled substance, typically used for epilepsy or severe seizures. Not routine by any means.”

“She was on diazepam for anxiety. Nothing else. If they needed to give anything stronger, it required my explicit consent.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s likely the phenobarbital was used to sedate her. Make her pliable. Easy to manage. Which makes sense with Chong’s report of no struggle signs. No resistance. Meaning whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.”

“It’s looking more likely to be someone with experience.” Kenny slammed the folder shut. “A nurse?”

Jack shook his head. “We’ve cleared all the nurses who were on duty. It was a skeleton crew that day. Lots of sickness. They had agency staff filling in. We’ve tracked and interviewed everyone on the list.”

“And?”

“No one was ever in your mum’s room alone. Except…” Jack flipped to a page in the file and pointed to a grainy CCTV image taken outside the care home. “This cleaner. She went in alone, stayed for fifteen minutes, then left. Her manager said she went there to clear up a spillage. There had been an emergency elsewhere. All hands-on deck. Alarms blasting. The cleaner went into your mum’s room, then reported that she’d been asleep the entire time. Your mum wasn’t then checked on until nearly an hour later once the chaos died down. That cleaner might have been the last person to see your mother alive. We don’t know for sure as there are no cameras inside the building. That’s all we have.”

Kenny’s stomach churned as he stared at the image. The figure was blurry, indistinct, but something about it sent a chill through him. “Have you interviewed her?”

Jack shifted uncomfortably. “We can’t locate her.”

“What do you mean you can’t locate her?” Kenny’s anger bubbled to the surface. “She worked there, didn’t she? The agency must have her details!”

“The home claim they don’t. Contacted the agency. It looks like a cash-in-hand arrangement. No proper clock-in records. No traceable address.” Jack’s frustration was evident, but it did nothing to quell Kenny’s fury. “Hence why the home don’t really want to give me access to anything unless I get a warrant.” Jack held up his hand before Kenny could speak. “Yes, I’ve applied for one. But we’re looking at days, possibly weeks, before I can get it. They know they fucked up. So I’m bringing this to you now. Off the fucking record.”

“Has it ever been on the record lately?”

“I hate the answer to that.”

“This is fucking insane!” Kenny dropped the file on the coffee table, photos and reports spilling out, and Aaron shuffled forward to sift through as Kenny paced the room, raking his hands through his hair. “How can she not be traceable? This is a care home, Jack! There are protocols. Procedures. How the fuck could this happen?”

“Those are questions you, as the civilian and the relative, next of kin, can ask of them. I can’t do anything other than what I’ve already done. I’m getting the warrant and we’ll get access to the agency files, too. But what we do have is lead and a witness statement from the resident in the next room.”

“A witness?”

Jack nodded. “It’s probably nothing. I mean, to be honest with you, many of the residents, as you’re probably fully aware, aren’t reliable in their memory functioning. But she mentioned hearing singing coming from your mum’s room. Two voices. One of them was your mum’s and another female voice.”

“Singing?”

“Yeah. Which apparently isn’t unusual. Your mum sang a lot. But they thought it was odd for the other woman to sing with her as she didn’t know her. Wasn’t a regular visitor.”

“The cleaner?”

“Probably.”

“What song?”

“Sorry?”

“What song did they sing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you ask?”

“Yes, but she couldn’t remember. She just hummed it.”

“To you?”

“Yes.”

“Go on then.”

Jack blinked. “What?”

“Hum it.”

“Are you joking?”

Kenny held his gaze. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Fuck off, Kenny. I can’t fucking hum it…” Jack tailed off as Aaron suddenly stood, without a word, and left the room to the back kitchen/diner. Jack raised an eyebrow. “What’s with him?”

“I doubt he wants to hear you sing.”

“No one should.”

“It could be important, Jack. Try?”

Jack inhaled sharply, chest rising. Then he cleared his throat. “Hmm hmm—” He stopped his humming when a soft melody drifted through the house, delicate and eerie. “What’s that?”

Kenny rubbed his temple. “Aaron.”

“He usually bugger off to play the piano?”

“When he’s stressed, yeah.”

The first notes crept into the room, soft and hesitant, like whispers testing the silence. Then, as if a fragile thread unravelled through the air, each note emerged with crystalline clarity, drifting in a lilting tune, carrying fragments of something old and cherished.

“He’s good,” Jack said.

“Yeah.” And it was familiar. Achingly so. Yet distant. As if it belonged to another time, another place, and had found its way back here by sheer force of will. “A little too good.”

Kenny strode through the house, Jack close behind, until they reached the dining room where the soft, mournful notes of the piano spilled into the air, weaving a melody so haunting it felt like it was unearthing something buried deep within. Aaron sat at the piano, racing his fingers across the ivory, lost in a world only he could see.

“That’s it!” Jack’s voice broke through the spell. “That’s the tune.”

Kenny stopped in his tracks, his heart hammering as he whipped his head toward Aaron. “ Killing Me Softly.”

Aaron stopped playing, hands frozen over the keys, pale and drawn. He turned to face them, rubbing his brow as if trying to scrub away a fog. “The piano’s tuned.” His voice was low and distant, as if he wasn’t quite with them. “Noticed it the other day. Thought maybe you had it done for me. But then this.” He gestured at the sheet music perched on the rest. “It’s the song.”

Kenny’s stomach twisted. “But how…?”

“She’s been here all along.” Aaron’s voice cracked as he dragged in a breath. “She’s here .”

“Who is?” Jack asked.

“Fuck!” Aaron dipped his head, pounding his fist to his temples. “Fuck! Kenny, fuck!”

Kenny rushed forward, dropping to his knees in front of Aaron to grab his wrists, yanking his hands away before he could hurt himself. “Hey, look at me.”

“I can see her!” Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, as if the effort to speak was physically ripping something from him. “But I can’t. It’s… it’s there.” He slapped the side of his head. “It’s in there and I can see it, but I can’t… I can’t—”

Kenny cupped Aaron’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Aaron, listen to me. It sounds like your brain is trying to unlock something. A suppressed memory buried deep. When traumatic memories surface like this, they can feel fractured, like shards of a mirror. They don’t always make sense at first.”

Aaron shook his head as if trying to escape the storm inside him. “But I know her! She’s there. She’s right there in my head, and I…I can’t pull her out!”

“It’s okay.” Kenny kept his voice calm, grip firm but gentle. “This is your brain protecting you. When we suppress memories, especially traumatic ones, it’s because your mind decided it wasn’t safe to process them at the time. But now, something’s triggering it. Your mind’s opening a door it’s kept locked for years, but it’s only letting you peek inside. That’s why it feels blurry, incomplete.”

“But I need to see it! I need to remember.”

“I know, baby.” Kenny’s voice was calm, a steady anchor against Aaron’s frantic energy. He glided his hands around Aaron’s neck, smoothing his thumbs over the tense muscles there, drawing him closer. “Forcing it won’t help. The more you push, the harder your mind fights back.”

Aaron clenched his jaw. “I want it out. I want to know.”

Kenny kissed him, chaste and soft. “There’s only one surefire way to retrieve suppressed memories.”

Aaron searched Kenny’s eyes. “You mean, hypnosis?”

Kenny nodded, apprehension in his gaze.

“Can you do that?”

“Can I? Yes. I’m trained. Should I? No.”

“Why not?”

“We’re too close. It should be someone independent.”

“I don’t want anyone else getting inside my head.”

“Ethically, I shouldn’t be going anywhere near your memories.”

“When has ethics ever stopped us, eh?

Kenny snorted. “It’s still very ill advised.”

“But it could work?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“It’ll bring the memories forward, but in a way that keeps you grounded. No forcing. Just retrieving.”

“I want you to do it.”

“Aaron…”

“Please.”

A clearing of a throat from behind made Kenny glance over his shoulder. Jack shifted uncomfortably near the door, arms crossed.

“I’ll…head off.” Jack gestured toward the exit. “I’ve got a lot to do.”

Kenny straightened. “We don’t have to do this now.”

Aaron shook his head. “I think we do. I can’t think straight until this is out. Can’t help you.”

“You don’t need to help. You have other things to focus on.”

“Like what?” Aaron scoffed. “My dissertation? My degree? None of that means anything if I’m standing in the middle of a storm without knowing what’s coming.” He balled his hands into fists. “I can’t be in the dark, Kenny. I want to help you figure out who’d want to smother your mother.” Aaron closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. “I am so fucking sorry about the rhyme.”

Jack lingered, gaze flicking between them. “Do it now,” he said. “But you know if you find something, it’ll be inadmissible in court. I’ll go.”

“Actually.” Aaron peered around Kenny to Jack. “Can you stay?”

Jack furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“If I’m letting him loose in my head, you need to be there to pull him out if he goes too far or doesn’t let up.” Aaron held Jack’s gaze. “Keep him from drowning.”

Kenny drew in a breath at their shared understanding.

Jack waited a beat. Probably weighing the situation, the ethics gnawing at the edges of his hesitation.

This wasn’t just a grey area. It was a minefield. Hypnosis was already a shaky ground in investigative work, often unreliable, easily influenced. And here was Kenny, about to use it on someone he was in love with . Someone he was fucking . Who he’d already broken every professional boundary for. The power imbalance was undeniable. Kenny had spent years dissecting minds, pulling apart trauma, untangling the very things Aaron was desperate to retrieve. But could he do it without leading him? Could he step back enough to avoid pressing for the answers he wanted?

Jack was asking himself those questions, too. Kenny could see it.

And even if he could , would it hold up if this information did lead somewhere? If Aaron dredged something up that cracked the case wide open, how would Jack explain it? “Oh yeah, the key piece of evidence was pulled from a hypnosis session conducted by his lover, the bloke with everything to lose if Aaron turned out to be implicated in something bigger.”

That wouldn’t fly. Not with a jury. Not with crown prosecution.

But Jack, Kenny knew, wasn’t just worried about that. Because he knew Kenny . How he worked. Knew how he got obsessed with the truth. How he pushed, even when it wasn’t safe. He’d seen Kenny’s fixation bleed into his work before. And now, with Aaron—a man Jack knew he’d move heaven and earth for—Kenny wouldn’t stop. Not until he had everything .

Jack should shut this down. Should tell Kenny to get someone else to do it. Someone neutral. Someone not tangled up in Aaron’s body and mind. But Aaron wouldn’t let anyone else in. And Kenny wouldn’t let anyone else touch him.

So that left him .

The last line of defence.

Jack exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “ Fuck. ” Then, reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay. Do it.”

Kenny stood and held out his hand to Aaron. “You need to be somewhere comfortable. Somewhere you feel safe.”

“In your bed,” Aaron said without missing a beat. Then, glancing at Jack’s raised brow, he sighed. “Fine. The sofa.”

Kenny guided Aaron back to the living room, closing the curtains and switching on the dim lamp. “Lie down.”

Aaron did, stretching out on the couch and closing his eyes. “Never in ten years of therapy did I ever lie down.”

“You should have.” Kenny pulled the coffee table closer, settling in beside him. “Helps access memory banks.”

Aaron peeped open one eye at Kenny. “Fuck, you talk so much bullshit.”

Kenny breathed out a smile, taking Aaron’s hand and rubbing slow circles over the inside of his wrist. “Humour me.”

Aaron exhaled, shifting, and flicked a glance at Jack stationing himself by the window, arms folded, but when Aaron nodded at him, he gave the smallest of smiles. A silent reassurance.

Kenny wasn’t sure he liked the quiet understanding between them, but he didn’t dwell on it. Right now, all that mattered was Aaron.

“Relax for me,” Kenny said, his voice taking on a deeper, smoother cadence, like what he’d use if they were alone. In bed. “I need you to focus on my words. Just my words.”

Aaron swallowed, his fingers twitching in Kenny’s grasp.

“You’re safe.” Kenny gripped his hand. “Nothing can hurt you here. You’re in control, always. But I’m going to help you find what’s been buried. You won’t force it. It’ll come naturally. Drifting forward like a wave. All you have to do is let it.”

Aaron’s breathing slowed.

“Close your eyes. Focus on the sound of my voice. Let the rest fade away.”

Aaron didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he turned them on Kenny, and for a moment, it was all-consuming.

“Before you get in here…” Aaron tapped his temple. “I should probably tell you something.”

Kenny drew in a breath, bracing himself. What now? What other revelation could Aaron drop into the quiet space between them? He wasn’t sure he could take anything else. Not tonight. Not when his nerves were already frayed and exhaustion pressed against the edges of his restraint.

But he forced himself to say it anyway. “Okay.” This time, whatever it was, he’d handle it better. No anger. No shutting down. Just…listen.

A pause stretched between them, thick and trembling, as if Aaron was winding himself up to say something that might crack the walls between them. Could shatter everything in the room. Then, with a quiet inhale, he shifted. And when he spoke, his voice carried something Kenny had never heard from him before.

Conviction .

“I’m in love with you.”

Kenny froze, caught in the force of those words he’d been longing for. They weren’t said recklessly, weren’t flung out in the heat of passion or whispered between gasps in the dark. Kenny hadn’t forced them. They were deliberate. Firm . A truth Aaron had wrestled with, measured, and finally, finally let free.

Kenny’s heart stammered. His breath hitched.

Love .

That single word wrapped around him, clung to his skin, seeped into his bones, and filled every hollow space he hadn’t realised was empty.

It felt like drowning.

Felt like air .

He opened his mouth, but no sound came, and he scrambled for something to say, some way to catch up to the moment, but all he could do was sit there, the words I’m in love with you washing over him like a shower of falling petals. Or maybe burning embers, setting fire to everything he thought he knew.

And Aaron…Aaron just looked at him, waiting. Open. Raw. His heart laid bare.

“Just in case you ask when I’m under the influence.” Aaron swallowed, clearly unnerved by his admission and Kenny’s resulting silence. “Been in love with you for a while. Think you already knew it. But there you go. I love you. Quite a lot. And it turns out you can’t control that shit. So, you’re sorta stuck with my mess.”

Kenny leaned in closer, a whisper away as if memorising the feel of his skin. “Good thing, because it turns out I love your mess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kenny swept his knuckles along Aaron’s cheek. “I love every chaotic, uncontrollable, feral morsel of it. Of you.” He kissed him again, slower this time, pouring every unsaid word into the touch.

When he pulled back, he didn’t retreat far. He hovered, just looking, sweeping his eyes over Aaron’s face as if it were something sacred. He traced each line, each scar, each piece that made Aaron who he was, and a long breath escaped, warm and unsteady, mingling with Aaron’s.

“And in case that’s not clear enough,” Kenny said, “I’m in love with you, too.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a smile, but it was softer than his usual smirk. Honest. Vulnerable . “Glad we got that cleared up.”

Kenny chuckled, brushing his forehead to Aaron’s for the briefest second before he dipped away. “It’s been lingering a while.”

“Yeah.”

Kenny let the moment stretch between them, eyes locked on Aaron’s, holding him there. Letting the words sink in. The rawness of them. The truth neither had dared speak before and he watched as it settled in Aaron’s expression, a glimmer of disbelief chased by acceptance, then something that might’ve been hope.

“Now,” Kenny said softly, pulling them back to the moment, “close your eyes.”

Aaron hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat, then did as he was told. His lashes fluttered shut, leaving him exposed and unguarded in a way that made Kenny’s chest tighten. Kenny straightened and sat back on the coffee table, peeking behind him. Jack stood there, arms crossed, unreadable expression. But as their gazes held, Jack’s features softened, the tension in his shoulders easing, and his mouth curved into a small, tentative smile. He gave a subtle nod. A gesture carrying more significance than words could. Kenny exhaled, his breath shaky, and returned the nod. It was unspoken but understood. The past between them, long fractured and fraught with wounds, was finally finding its place to rest. Forgiveness didn’t come with fanfare, but it was there in the quiet acknowledgement. A shared understanding that some things didn’t need to be said aloud.

He turned back to Aaron. Physically. Metaphorically.

“I’m going to count down from ten,” Kenny said, lilting his voice lower, slipping into the smooth cadence of hypnosis. “As I do, focus on your breath. Feel the weight of your body sinking into the sofa, feel the warmth against your skin, the stillness in your fingertips. Every breath you take releases more tension. Your limbs are heavy, but your mind is light.”

Aaron’s fingers twitched, but he nodded. His breathing had already slowed, deeper, more rhythmic.

“Ten. Nine. Eight. With each number, your body melts further into the sofa, heavier, as if the fabric is pulling you gently downward, deeper and deeper…Seven. Six. Your thoughts drift, slow and distant, like waves retreating from the shore…Five. Four. Your arms and legs are weightless, floating, detached from anything holding you down…Three. Two. Your mind is open, but you are safe. Secure. Nothing can touch you here.…One.”

A stillness settled over Aaron, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, his grip on Kenny’s hand loosening.

Kenny swallowed hard, unease gnawing at the edges of his resolve.

He knew this was wrong. Ethically wrong .

Kenny knew the risks. Knew them intimately .

If this got out—if anyone found out what he was about to do—his career wouldn’t just take a hit. It would end .

If the British Psychological Society got wind of this, they wouldn’t hesitate. His chartered status would be revoked. His license to practice? Gone. Years of research, casework, credibility— all of it —wiped from existence. No professorship. No career. No future in the field.

All it would take was one wrong word, one hint of perceived misconduct, and he wouldn’t just lose his job—he could face formal investigation. Potential charges. He could be discredited entirely, labelled as unethical, predatory, dangerous.

Fuck , maybe he was.

Because despite knowing all of this, despite the consequences clawing at the back of his mind like a warning he should listen to, he was still here. Still doing it.

Kenny clenched his fists.

He was already too far gone.

So he continued.

“I need you to start somewhere safe first. A neutral place. Somewhere you feel at peace.”

Aaron’s lips parted, brows twitching as if searching. Kenny waited. Didn’t push. Just let the silence guide them.

“Are you there?” he eventually asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron’s response was faint. “ Yeah .”

“Good.” Kenny squeezed his hand. “Where are you?”

A pause. Then, “Your bed.”

Kenny’s heart gave a dull, painful ache, but he kept his voice steady. “Okay. Hold on to that feeling for a moment.”

Aaron’s breathing deepened. The tension in his body slackened. Kenny let the silence stretch. No rushing. No pulling him further yet.

Then, when he felt Aaron settle, he said, “Describe it to me.”

“It’s warm.” Aaron’s lips curved into a soft smile and he sank into the cushions as if it was Kenny’s sheets. “Soft. Feels like… I belong there.”

Kenny swallowed past the lump in his throat. Not now.

“Stay in that warmth,” he said. “Hold on to it. Feel it around you.” Another pause, another deepening of breath. “Now, from there, I want you to go back. To your childhood home. Don’t force it. Just let it come to you. Wherever your mind takes you first.”

Aaron tensed, flexed his hand in Kenny’s.

“It’s dark,” he whispered. “It’s always dark.”

“That’s okay. You’re just observing. Nothing can hurt you. Just tell me what you see.”

“Curtains drawn. Smells like… damp wood. Old stuff. Mothballs. Cigarettes. Stale lavender.”

“You’re there, but you’re safe,” Kenny reassured him, his grip firm but gentle. “Focus on where you feel safe in the house. Is there a place?”

Aaron’s body jerked, but he exhaled. “Yeah. My den.”

“Good. Can you go there now? And tell me what it looks like?”

“It’s a cupboard. A closet. Coats and shoes are in there. There’s a duvet on the floor, a pillow. And my teddy. He kept me safe.”

Kenny exhaled, rubbing his thumb over the back of Aaron’s hand. Ease him in. Don’t rush .

“Safe from what?”

Aaron shifted. “The noises.”

“What kind of noises?”

Aaron’s fingers twitched in his palm. “The ones I hear when I wake up too early.”

Kenny swallowed. His grip remained steady. “What do they sound like?”

“Loud. Bangs. Crying.” A beat. Then a whisper. “Screams.”

Kenny closed his eyes, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Don’t react. Don’t let him feel it.

“You’re doing so well, Aaron. Just observing. Nothing more. Can you let your mind drift? Let it move toward a time when you heard those sounds?”

Aaron’s breath caught. His jaw clenched. Fingers curled into Kenny’s.

Then, softly, “Yeah.”

Kenny let the silence stretch, didn’t push him further.

“You’re just an observer,” he reminded gently. “Nothing can touch you. You’re safe.”

Aaron’s chest rose in an uneven breath. “I… I woke up.”

Kenny stayed still, waiting.

“The house was quiet. But I heard it… the music.”

Kenny’s pulse flickered. His voice remained steady. “Music?”

“Yeah. It’s… scratchy. Grainy. From a record.”

“Do you recognise the song?”

Aaron exhaled slowly. “ Killing Me Softly.”

Kenny and Jack exchanged a sharp glance. Kenny’s jaw tightened, but he kept his focus locked on Aaron.

“Where is it coming from?”

“Downstairs.” A pause. Then, quieter, “The back of the house.”

“Are you moving toward it?”

Aaron swallowed. “I want to. But I’m groggy. Heavy. I feel weird. My body isn’t working properly.”

“That’s okay. Just observe. Let the memory unfold on its own.”

Aaron’s face contorted as though he were wading through thick fog.

“I… I’m getting up. My feet are cold. The hallway is dark, but the music is still playing. It’s coming from outside.”

“Outside where?”

Aaron swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “The shed. The warehouse.” His voice wavered. “I’m not allowed in there.”

Kenny brushed his thumb over the back of Aaron’s hand, slow and grounding. “But did you go?”

Aaron’s breath stuttered. His brow furrowed, muscles tensing. “Yeah… Trampled barefoot over the woodland. It hurt. I—ouch. I cut my toe.”

Kenny let a small pause stretch before continuing, voice coaxing, steady. “That’s okay. You’re doing so well. Just keep observing. What do you see?”

Aaron’s breathing had slowed to an eerie stillness, as if his body was caught between now and then.

“The door’s cracked open,” he said. “Light’s spilling out. The music’s louder now. I’m peeking inside…”

A sharp inhale.

Kenny held his breath.

“There’s a girl.”

The words came in a hush, so quiet Kenny barely heard them.

Jack’s posture stiffened near the window. Kenny could feel the shift in the air—this was it.

“Can you see her clearly?” Kenny asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Not really. She’s older than me. Maybe she’s eleven? Twelve? I can’t tell. She’s sitting on a chair. By a gramophone. Huge horn speaker. Dad’s old antique.” Aaron’s head fell to the side. “She’s shaking. I think she’s tied up.”

“You’re still safe, Aaron. Just watching.”

“Mum’s there. She’s… she’s singing. But she keeps stopping. Yelling at the girl. Telling her she’s useless.”

“Just keep observing. What happens next?”

“She’s hitting her.” Aaron stammered. “Hard. Across the face. But the girl isn’t crying. She’s really brave. She doesn’t move, doesn’t fight back.”

Kenny forced himself to remain calm. Collected. He needed to be Aaron’s anchor, not his panic.

“What does she do next?”

Aaron’s fingers tensed in Kenny’s grip, a tremor running through his limbs.

“Mum’s moving away. Into the dark.” His voice strained. “The girl… she’s turning around.” Aaron’s jaw clenched. “She’s looking at me. Right at me.”

A shudder ran through his body.

“Aaron, you’re still safe. Just keep watching. What does she do?”

“Mum… she—” His voice cracked. Lips trembled. “She’s got a belt.”

Jack let out a sharp breath, shifting from his stance by the window. Kenny lifted a hand without looking away from Aaron, a silent demand for Jack to stay still.

“She’s wrapping it around the girl’s neck.” Aaron’s voice was hoarse, barely there. “Fuck. I don’t want to see this…” His breath fractured. Chest heaved. Muscles locked in place as if he were frozen between past and present.

Kenny’s stomach coiled. Panic response.

“Aaron, you’re still here. You’re with me. Nothing can hurt you.”

Aaron let out a strangled noise, grasping for something unseen.

“She’s pulling her down. Beating her. Fuck, she’s beating her!”

Kenny pressed a steadying hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “You’re safe. Just breathe. You don’t have to relive it, only observe it.”

“The girl…she’s trying to get away, crawling toward me—” His voice cracked, a raw, wounded sound.

“What did you do, Aaron?”

Aaron’s muscles tensed so hard Kenny could feel it in his grip. His fingers were white-knuckled, skin cold.

“I…I’m running. Back to the house. Back to my cupboard. Had to hide. Had to be asleep. If I don’t move, if I don’t breathe, she won’t see me—”

Jack shifted again, but this time it was out of helplessness. Then Aaron suddenly stiffened completely, body locked in terror.

“Oh, God. She found me—”

His breath fractured, sharp and shallow. His fingers clawed at his throat as though he could feel phantom hands tightening around his windpipe.

Kenny reacted instantly.

“Aaron, listen to me. Look at me. Hear my voice.” Kenny’s tone was firm but gentle, unwavering, an anchor against the storm.

Aaron let out a strangled noise, writhing in panic. “She…she’s going to ki—”

“No. She can’t hurt you now. That was then. This is now.” Kenny cupped Aaron’s face, forcing him to stay with him.

Jack’s voice cut through the tension. “Kenny—”

“I know.” Kenny didn’t look away. He couldn’t. “Aaron, I need you to breathe. Slow, steady. Just follow my voice.”

Aaron’s chest heaved violently, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Okay, inhale for four. One… two… three… four. Hold it.”

Aaron’s breath hitched, but he held it.

“Good. Now exhale. Slowly, let it go.”

Aaron let out a long, shaking breath, his muscles still taut with residual tension.

“Again. In for four—one, two, three, four. Hold… And out, slow, controlled.” Kenny stroked slow circles against the inside of Aaron’s wrist, guiding him gently.

Aaron’s fingers twitched before finally loosening. The lines of strain across his face eased, little by little, though the lingering tension clung to his limbs.

“That’s it. You’re doing good. You’re here.” Kenny squeezed his hand. “With me. In this room.”

Aaron’s breath was still uneven, his eyes glassy, distant. Kenny needed to ground him fully.

“I want you to feel the sofa beneath you. Feel the fabric under your fingers. Feel my hand in yours.”

Aaron flexed his fingers weakly.

“Listen to the sounds in the room. The clock ticking. Jack breathing. The hum of the lamp.”

Aaron’s gaze flickered toward the light, blinking as if reorienting himself.

Kenny held his face, smoothing his thumbs over Aaron’s cheekbones. “Look at me.”

Aaron’s gaze locked onto Kenny’s. Still hazy but no longer trapped in the past and a long breath shuddered out of him. The past was receding.

Kenny exhaled. “That’s it. You’re back.”

Aaron’s breath steadied, lashes fluttering. For a moment, he just stared up at Kenny, blinking as though adjusting to the light. His pupils were dilated, but clarity returned to them, the glassy haze of hypnosis fading into sharp awareness. His body no longer shook. But his expression— God, his expression —was wrecked. Haunte d .

Kenny traced circles with his fingers over Aaron’s cheekbones. “You with me, baby?”

Aaron swallowed hard. Nodded.

Jack let out a quiet breath from behind them. “Jesus.”

Aaron licked his lips, his voice hoarse. “That… that was real, wasn’t it?”

Kenny didn’t look away. He couldn’t. “Yeah. It was real.”

The weight of that truth settled between them like a storm cloud about to break.

“That’s her, isn’t it? Child A ?”

“It would appear so.” Kenny exhaled wearily.

Aaron sat up, leaned around Kenny to the folder on the table and picked up the CCTV image of the cleaner heading into Kenny’s mother’s room. “It’s her.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “The face. I recognise the face.”

“Guess we now have it confirmed who.” Kenny peered up at Jack. “And we know why.” He turned back to Aaron. “Now we need to find where she is.”

“Did you think it was her already?” Aaron asked.

“I had suspicions, yes. I’ve been trying to locate her.”

Aaron’s phone rang on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with the name Taylor .

Kenny picked it up in utter irritation. Accepted the call. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Well, hello, Dr Lyons.” A smooth, cold female voice purred through the line. “So lovely to hear your voice again.”