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Beyond Measure

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Session 1
Therapy

Present day

"Oliver?"

"Yes?"

Doctor Arainn crossed her long legs, settling in the chair opposite of the dark haired teen with a notebook and pen. A small voice recorder sat on the table between them, blinking red. "I'm going to ask you to recall the memories of the trauma," she said softly. "I need you to recall every memory in as much detail as you can manage."

He nodded.

"It's best if you lie down and close your eyes so you can focus solely on the memory."

Noll uncrossed his own legs and stretched out on the overstuffed couch. Staring uncomfortably up at the white ceiling, he wished was anywhere but there; home, the hospital, any haunted house. It was a waste of time but, rather unfortunately, Martin wouldn't allow him on another case until he completed his therapy treatment.

He had spent months jumping from doctor to doctor, realizing it was hard enough finding a qualified specialist that believed in his abilities let alone one that would treat him for them.

Fortunately, Doctor Arainn found him. With a PhD in psychology and a Masters in Parapsychology, she showed the same level of enthusiasm for the unknown that Martin did. "Start wherever you feel comfortable and then go through the story all the way to the end. I'll refrain from interrupting you but will occasionally ask you to rate your anxiety level on a 0 to 100 scale."

"Okay," he mumbled, a wave of sleepiness washing over him. Those precious few hours of sleep he'd managed last night definitely wouldn't be enough to get through this session.

Pen poised over the notebook and blinking steadily between them, she smiled. "You can begin whenever you're ready."

.
.

7 months earlier

The moment Eugene Davis died, Oliver, splayed semi-conscious on the floor, gave up. He invited that nauseating green fog in and willed it to consume him, to numb the excruciating void in his chest.

He accepted death, welcomed it, like the murky water that burned his eyes and throat. He bobbed up and down in the lulling motion of the lake, his hair swirling in slow circles around his head.

Sunlight warmed his back as he floated there, still and peaceful. For a fleeting moment he wondered if this was what Gene had felt, the calm rise and fall of the lake's waves. Well, there were worse ways to go, he thought, letting his eyes drift shut.

Noll, you idiot.

Under any other circumstances, Oliver would have scoffed at the comment but he didn't have the energy. When had he gotten so tired? But still, he couldn't completely ignore his brother.

Leave me alone, Gene.

Go back.

The bite in Gene's voice was enough to send chills down his spine. Oliver opened a grey eye to find two bluer ones peering back at him. Behind Gene, Oliver could have seen the rotting yellow blanket if he'd bothered to look.

Go back, Noll.

Oliver focused both sleepy eyes on his twin. The water was getting darker and colder with every passing second. Find his body? But he was right here with him, why did he need to go anywhere?

Gene? His arms reached for the smiling face of his brother but it seemed like he was sinking out of reach. Oliver struggled, trying desperately to swim and reach his brother but Gene was only getting farther away.

He fought harder when he realized it wasn't Gene who was sinking, but he who was rising out of the water. Somehow strong hands had wrapped themselves around his torso, pulling him up to the surface.

No, he screamed to himself.

His twin only smiled as he broke through the surface.

Go back.