Page 112 of Konstantin

CHAPTER THIRTY

EMILIA

I lean backin the chair at the hypnotherapist’s office, shaking my head at the conversation from last night.

Kids. I can’t believe he asked me if I wanted them. With him. And I can’t believe I actually considered it.

But I meant what I said. I can’t be someone’s mother. There’s no way another human being would benefit from me mothering him or her. I’d ruin them the way my mother ruined me.

Right now isn’t the time to think of the future, though. My brother’s freedom. That’s the priority. Once he’s out, then Konstantin and I can figure out what we are to one another.

My leg bounces as I wait for my appointment, wondering what she’ll be like and if she’ll actually be able to help me. It’s hard to ignore the way my muscles tighten in anticipation.

The door creaks open and she steps out, greeting me with a warm smile. Her blonde pixie cut frames her round face, softening herfeatures.

“Ms. Hayes, please come in.” She motions toward her office.

Her eyes seem kind, and there’s an easy calm about her that makes me feel like everything will be okay before we even speak.

Getting to my feet, I follow her into the office, unease rising in my stomach, though I’m doing my best to push it down. She gestures to the chair across from her desk, and I settle into it, my hands folded tightly together on my lap while she gets a notepad and pen.

“So, what brings you in today?”

I hesitate for a moment before answering. “I’ve been having this dream… I’ve had it since I was a child.”

Her eyes don’t waver as I tell her all about it while she takes notes.

“I need to know if it’s just a dream or if it’s something from my past, something that actually happened. I need to remember the details, but regular therapy hasn’t helped with that, so here I am.”

She nods, understanding written across her face. “Alright, let’s take it slow. I’m going to guide you through the process. Just relax and let the images come to you. Trust that your mind will show you what’s necessary. You’re in control.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. She asks me to close my eyes, and I do, trying to block out the tension in my body while I focus on my breathing like she says.

A minute later, my body starts to loosen, the tightness in my chest easing just a little.

“Now, I want you to focus. Go back to the moment in the closet. Envision it in your mind. Don’t be afraid.”

It takes a minute, but my thoughts start to race as the memory begins to rise to the surface, little by little, and I feel as though I’m there.

“What do you see?”

“It’s…dark. Narrow. The air smells old, damp.” My voice falters. “I hear her—my mother. She’s screaming through the walls, her cries breaking between words. She’s begging someone to stop.”

A sharp breath catches in my chest.

“There are men there. I hear them too. Their voices are muffled, like they’re behind a thin wall or just out of reach.”

“You’re doing great, Emilia. Stay with it. Try to focus on what they’re saying. Can you make out the words?”

My mind reaches into the haze, sifting through the echo of voices like scattered puzzle pieces. They blur, bleed together, until one breaks through the fog.

“One of them says… ‘You need to stop. You can’t be doing this to her.’”

My skin tingles, a nervous flutter rising in my stomach.

Who is he talking about? Me? My mom?

“That’s excellent, Emilia. Keep going. Can you hear anything else?”