Shining among Darkness

By
WingzemonX

Chapter 07.
My best try

Matilda had been in Oregon for a week when the sky dawned clear for the first time. That day she got up relatively early. The sun was just rising, and the view of the blue sky was slowly lighting up; it was gorgeous. While driving to the hospital, an idea came up for that day's session.

After Dr. Scott's usual initial denials, which were not only normal but their absence would surprise her, he allowed her to take Samara out to the hospital courtyard. There would be no other people in those moments out there so they could be alone; Dr. Scott took the obligation of emphasizing that this included any other doctor or nurse who could come to her rescue if something went wrong, but she still decided to take the risk.

At half-past seven, Matilda and Samara went out to the patio together. It seemed as if the sun had not touched Samara's little face in weeks, and not just because of the pale tone of her face had taken. The little girl looked in all directions, very cautiously as they advanced from the door on the concrete path surrounded by benches and trees. Her actions showed interest, but her eyes kept stoic.

Between her fingers, Samara was carrying Nancy, the doll she had asked to bring from her home. It was an old-fashioned Barbie or at least some brand that tried to resemble her, with long straight black hair. The doll wore a short green dress with bare shoulders. As she had agreed with the good Doctor in charge, Matilda gave it to her every time they met and took it with her every time she left. The funny thing was that Samara never played with it or anything like that. Usually, she just held her against her or tightly between her hands. Matilda felt that the mere proximity of that toy, surely made her feel a little better in some way; closer to home, perhaps?

"What are we doing out here?" The girl asked, somewhat confused, but evidently not disappointed by the change of scenario.

Matilda smiled.

"The sun finally came out, so I thought you'd like a different air." Samara did not answer, but she sensed that it was a silent affirmation. "Also, I want us to try something new."

Matilda led Samara to one of the benches on the side of the road, but they did not sit on it. Instead, the psychiatrist extended her hand to the front, toward the mountains in the distance.

"Normally, you draw thoughts that you only see in your head. But, have you tried to capture something that you see in the real world? For example, look at that view."

Samara looked in the direction in which she pointed. The sun was rising from behind the mountains, and they could see its circumference without a problem because it still did not come with all its light.

"Why don't you try to look at it a few seconds, memorize it, and capture that image on paper?"

Samara looked at her doubtfully, but she went on.

"Look at those colors, those shapes. Are not they beautiful?"

"Yes, they are," she murmured slowly.

"So, what do you say? Would you like to try it?"

Samara simply shrugged, and again it seemed to be her silent way of saying yes.

They were a couple of seconds watching that natural spectacle. In all that time, neither said anything or did anything beyond looking at the horizon. Samara's expression was just as peaceful as ever, so it was impossible for Matilda to know if she enjoyed it or not.

"Well, now let's turn around."

Matilda turned around, and now she sat on the bench so that she had her back to the mountains. She touched the wooden surface beside her with one hand, indicating with that little act that she should sit down. Samara did so, although everything on her face showed that she was still not very sure of the situation. What should that doubt be?

Matilda took out of her bag the drawing block they had been using during the sessions; in it were already embodied several images, all created by Samara. She opened the block on a blank page and placed it carefully on the girl's legs.

"Try to imagine in your mind that landscape you saw, and sign it here. Do you think you can do it?"

Samara stared at the blank paper in her hands. She ran his fingers slowly over it, barely brushing the surface with the tips of his fingers. After a few seconds, she placed the whole palm on the bottom of the paper, and almost immediately a picture slowly formed, with black and dark branches extending from her fingers, to grow and cover the white space. Like the previous times, it seemed as if those lines were burned on paper, instead of drawing.

The image was captured relatively quickly, and the result was precisely the landscape behind them. However, it was not wholly the same. As soon as Matilda saw it, a somewhat oppressive sensation invaded her chest. While the actual landscape looked warm, friendly and colorful, the image on the paper was dark and cold. The darkness seemed to cover the sky, dimming the sunlight.

"Very well, you did it very well," Matilda exclaimed, placing a hand on her shoulder in approval. She not to receive any negative reaction from the child to that little contact, and it pleased her. "But, doesn't it send a different feeling that the real one? Don't you think it looks a little...?"

"Sad?" Samara interrupted suddenly, still contemplating the image on the paper. "Scary? As dead?" She stopped for a second. "Everything always ends up being that way, even if I don't want to."

It was not clear if her words were conveyed of frustration or anguish, but definitely, the result had affected her. Was that what bothered her at first? Did she know it would end like this?"

"Don't worry about that? Why do not you try again?"

Samara stood up and took another look at the landscape for a long time. The sun was already more lived and could not hold much look, but still tried. She sat down again when she considered it prudent, and repeated the same act from a few moments ago: she changed pages to a blank one, ran her fingers through the paper, placed her hand on the bottom, and tried to capture the image of the landscape.

The result, however, ended up being quite similar to the previous one.

Matilda took the notebook and reviewed it in more detail. What she had said a few moments ago was right: all the images she created, both on radiographs and on paper, transmit a very uncomfortable feeling, even frightening sometimes. Maybe it was not bad at all; perhaps it was what her ability was capable of doing, and people like her perceived it with a dark feeling inspired merely by their own emotions. But even if it were like that, it was difficult to look at those images and not to provoke a deep sense of uneasiness and sadness.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind. If that was how she felt just by seeing an image on paper... What was it that Mrs. Morgan felt? What was it that Samara had made her see? And... What had she made her biological mother see so that she wanted to drown her?

"Are you angry with me?" She heard that Samara suddenly asked, taking her by surprise.

"No, of course not," she said quickly with a broad smile. "You did very well, Samara. Maybe we can try another..."

"Then, who are you upset with?" She interrupted abruptly, almost cutting.

Matilda hesitated, surprised by this sudden outburst.

"Why do you think I'm upset?"

"Because I can feel it. I feel something bothering you."

Samara looked at her with intensity in her eyes. She almost always had an intense look, but on that occasion it was different; it seemed almost inquisitive as if she was accusing her of something.

"You see it? In my mind?" Samara did not answer, although she turned her gaze away quickly as if she was feeling ashamed. "Did you read something in my mind, Samara?"

"Not completely," she whispered slowly, head bowed; her hair fell over her face, covering it almost completely. "They are always more like ... forebodings."

"I get it. And do you have those forebodings often?"

"Not that much..."

The extent of her telepathic ability, if indeed that was it, had not been adequately studied by Dr. Scott and the rest of his team, and Matilda had not wanted to go deep into it; not yet, at least.

These "forebodings" as she described them, were the smallest scale they had detected in people who shine. Usually, they were just sensations that told the person whether or not to do something, whether or not to trust someone, etc. But in Samara's case, Matilda was sure it was more profound than that. These feelings and sensations could be more precise than they thought.

"Did you see anything about me?" Matilda asked directly, but Samara again did not answer. "Is there something you want to ask me? You know you can tell me anything."

Matilda hoped she was not stepping on dangerous ground. After all, she had relevant information in her mind that she had not shared with her current patient; about being adopted, and the actual whereabouts of her biological mother, as well as the rugged story of how it ended up in adoption. If Samara had sensed something of it, she might be getting into a situation where she did not want to be. However, on the other hand, if she knew or had at least sensed it, either in her or in her own parents, it would not do anything good for their relationship to hide or deny it.

Matilda was determined to speak the truth if that was what she wanted to ask. However, what Samara wanted, in fact, had nothing to do with that suspicion. In fact, But, Matilda was not at all ready for that question anyway...

"Who is Carrie?" Blew out the little one, making Matilda startle so much, that she narrowly jumped from her seat.

The psychiatrist was paralyzed, unable to react immediately; even his breathing had been cut off, but she was not aware of it until she realized that was short of breath in her lungs.

When she did not receive an answer, Samara turned slowly towards her, and again looked at her with the same intensity as before.

"Excuse?" The doctor said, unable to reflect security. She had listened very well to her question, but she clung to an almost ridiculous longing that it had been something else.

And indeed, it was not like that.

"You've thought that name very hard a couple of times since we met," Samara explained. "It's like a loud scream in my ears. Who is she?"

Matilda inhaled and exhaled hard through her nose.

Was she really asking about... that? Why? Why about that subject? Why right at that moment? Of all things, secrets, undesirable and horrible moments that haunted her mind... why that?

"It's not something I think we should talk about right now. Is better..."

"Why don't you want to tell me about it?" Samara said with something more aggressive.

"It's not that I don't want to, Samara. It is just that..."

Matilda's words locked. She was so unprepared to answer that, and she really did not have a convincing excuse beyond the obvious one: that in fact, she did not want to do it... which was not very far from reality.

Samara seemed bothered by her hesitation.

"Tell me who she is," the kid exclaimed demandingly. "Or I will not want to talk to you anymore."

Matilda was startled; she easily sensed all the threat latent in those words. She was not sure how serious it was, but she could not let an incident like that break all the good relationship she had achieved with her up to that point.

But... talk about that? What utility or benefit could it bring? Most certainly, none. Talking about that could not bring anything good, neither to her nor to the girl.

Should she impose her authority? She was not sure how Samara would react to such a confrontation. Even at that moment, she already looked quite defensive. Her expression had taken on that almost terrifying face she had the first night they met. Matilda had a hard time admitting it, but she really began to feel intimidated by her... almost scared. Was that what Dr. Scott and his assistants saw? Was that what her parents saw?

For the first time, she felt real the warning, almost threatening, that John told her that there would not be any nurse or doctor to help her if she took care of herself.

Matilda returned to breathe deeply, closed the sketchbook and placed it on her legs.

"Ok..."

She looked forward. The sun had almost entirely come out behind them, but in front, there were still some blue and purple tones of the night. She crossed her legs, and sat up straight; Samara stared at her expectantly.

"Carrie... she was also a special girl," Matilda murmured very cautiously in her voice. "She also shone, like us. But her abilities manifested in her only until she was somewhat older than you. It is not usual, but it happens. Usually, the Shining shows in children at a young age, and from there it develops little by little. But in her case, it suddenly appeared at seventeen, without any warning, and with enough force. And when it occurs like that, it can bring several problems."

"Why?"

"Well, as you will soon know, adolescence is a tough stage for everyone. It is full of confusions and fears, even without having to live with the Shining."

She paused and held her breath a little as if talking about it caused her some kind of pain.

"But Carrie's case was a lot more serious, because of her family situation and with her classmates. She didn't have an easy life, nor close to that. And it affected her too much. That's why I wanted to help her, just like I want to help you right now."

"And you did it?" Samara asked with a sharp tone. "Could you help her?"

In Samara's expression was a longing to know. She seemed genuinely eager to hear her response, and that really was the truth. She really seemed to want to know if Matilda had been able to do it; if she had been able to do the same thing she wanted to do with her.

But say that... would have been a lie.

"I did my best try," was all Matilda managed to say, and she regretted almost immediately after.

Samara watched her intently in silence. All that longing had vanished abruptly, and now there was only... nothing, absolutely nothing.

"But you failed," Samara concluded with an almost indifferent tone. "You failed, right? You couldn't help her." Her tone was so cold that it stuck hard into Matilda's chest. "Are you going to fail with me? Will you leave me too?"

Matilda was frozen by those words.

"No... Of course, I won't!" she answered, again, unable to reflect the security she wanted, and Samara noticed it.

The girl lowered her eyes again contemplating her doll in her lap. After a few seconds, she took the toy and placed it on the bench between Matilda and herself.

"I don't think I'm in the mood to talk to you today," she said with an average voice, and then she stood up without looking at her. "I want to go to my room right now."

Matilda hesitated a moment but quickly chose to do what she said. The truth is that she felt the same way; she did not want to continue talking to her at that time either. She couldn't do something to clarify that situation at that moment.

"Yes... sure," Matilda answered. "I'll come back later if you want us to talk."

Samara did not answer her, and did not she say anything all the way into the hospital.

— — — —

After leaving Samara with the nurses, Matilda went straight to her car, before she met Dr. Scott and he dared to question her. Although it was only to delay the inevitable; sooner or later he was going to have to find out it, anyway.

She walked with such haste through the parking lot that on a couple of occasions her heels went badly, and she almost fell. When she was already on the side of the vehicle, she looked desperately for the keys in the contents of her bag. When she took them out, however, the keys fell off, remaining between their feet. And to top it all off, when she bent down to pick them up, her open bag fell too, and much of its contents spread out under the car.

Matilda let out a small muffled curse, and as she collected all her things, she released several more.

In the end, she finally managed to get into the car, but not before flogging the door with strength; just a moment later she remembered that the vehicle was rented. She sat in the driver's seat but did not start the engine; not yet. Instead, she stood still, with her hands clinging to the steering wheel, and her eyes on the front, watching... nothing, really.

You have to be very clear this girl is not Carrie White, Eleven had told her that night. It had been her fault, she had put that idea in her head, and that was why Samara had perceived it and touched on that subject. Although, Samara said she had felt it since they met. Did she think about it? Did she even think that they both look a lot like without her noticing?

Are you going to fail with me? Will you leave me too?

Matilda pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, and there she stayed. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and tried to calm down. It was not the first difficult situation she faced in that job, and could not keep letting the Carrie White affair affect her that way. She had to regain her composure and think about the best way to act now.

You must not regret this, Eleven had said to her that afternoon, sitting next to each other. There was nothing you could do in such a short time to prevent it.

But was it really like that? Was there really nothing she could have done...?

Suddenly, her phone started ringing, abruptly pulling her out of her deep thoughts, and causing her to startle scared. Matilda quickly began to rummage through his purse again, a little desperate. She took out almost everything she had there before finally finding the phone and answering it immediately, without even taking the time to see the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Matilda? Matilda Honey?" A male voice spoke on the other side of the line.

"Yes, it's me," she answered, sharper and moody than she would have liked, but she did not care. "Who is?"

"Hello, I'm Doug Ames, from the Doctorate."

"Excuse me, who?" She exclaimed confused. A small giggle was heard from the other side.

"I'm not surprised you don't remember me. After all, you were the young girl of just over twenty, surrounded by pure olds of almost thirty or more..."

"No, no, I am sorry," she quickly hurried to intervene.

She took a second, took a deep breath and tried to lighten her mind a little. She retreated until her doctorate years at Yale and attempted to give a face to the name he just gave her.

Doug Ames...

Doug Ames...

Doug Ames...

No, no matter how hard she tried, she could not identify who it was. She had several candidates in mind that could fit, but none stood out more than another. What that faceless voice had said, was entirely accurate. That couple of years at Yale, she had spent practically in herself and in her work, and little or no attention had been given to those around her.

Even so, she knew that if she tried hard enough, she could clearly remember who that person was, but not for the moment. Her mind was too wrapped up in what had just happened that in fact, that she had no desire to try harder than necessary.

"Doug, yes, I remember you," she exclaimed with good spirit and trying to sound sincere. "I'm sorry, I'm... somewhat distracted."

And then she smiled, as a mere reflection although she knew very well that Doug Ames could not see her. She leaned her elbow against the steering wheel, and with her free hand rubbed her face a bit with. She hoped he was not calling to ask for a date or something like that; it was what the least she needed at that time.

"Do not worry," exclaimed the supposed Doug, rather calmly. "Professor Armstrong gave me your number, I hope it doesn't bother you."

Professor Armstrong, which was a name she remembered. Child Psychiatrist and Yale Professor. An older man, but very bright, intelligent, and a fantastic person. And if that was not enough, he also shone. Only a little; he was one of those people with that bit of trace of Shining that allowed him to feel and perceive things, connect with people, and have excellent instincts.

They had become very friendly during the Doctorate, although he had not spoken to her in a couple of years... similar to how she had done with Cody. It surprised her for a second to realize how such good friendships she had had a long time ago, unconsciously she had put them aside over the years. Out of some exchange of reactions on Facebook, she had not had contact with any of her old friends from Arcadia. Even if she thought about it more closely, she had been doing a little aside even to her own adoptive mother, until only frequenting her once or twice a year.

Things like these happen throughout life, she supposed.

"No, of course, it's okay. How have you been?"

"Very well, I suppose. I currently work in Portland, as a Child Psychologist for the Department of Family Affairs."

Portland? It briefly crossed her mind; impossible that it was a coincidence.

"That sounds excellent."

"Yes, most of the time it's nice to help children with problems at home..." He made a long and strange pause, which gave Matilda a lousy feeling. She felt a great but on the way, and so it was. "But at this moment, I have a somewhat complicated case. This is about a girl, whom her parents tried to burn alive in her oven."

"Oh my God," the brunette said, truly frightened, more by the directness of the comment than by the comment itself.

"Maybe you heard about the case in newspapers or social networks. There was much echo because of the horrible act."

No, she had not really read anything about it, although she was not very likely to read that kind of news either. They usually arrived without her wanting it, as at that precise moment.

"Is the girl okay now?"

"If I'm honest..." Another strange pause. "I'm not sure."

There was something strange about Doug's tone that Matilda only realized until then. It transmitted certain nervousness that tried to hide behind amiability and good humor that in the end, ended up feeling a little false. If Matilda had to guess, she would say that the subject he was talking about caused him so much of discomfort, but also a particular discomfort type; of those that only something that reaches you to the core could provoke... like talking about Carrie White, in her case.

Doug went on, going straight to what he wanted to say.

"Listen, I've been treating children who are abused, mistreated, broken inside for a few years. But there's something in this girl, something that, and I'm not ashamed to admit it, scares me a little."

"Something like that?" Asked intrigued.

"It's just a theory, but I think it could be a case of APD."

Matilda jumped in her seat. APD, in other words, Antisocial Personality Disorder. Or in a more familiar term used by people... sociopathy.

"That is a severe diagnosis that can't be taken lightly."

"I know, and the truth is at this moment I don't have enough bases to assure it. It is more a sensation, quite uncomfortable. I had a conversation with her last night, and there was something in her gaze and her words ... I had never seen such coldness, but at the same time aggressiveness, in a person, much less in a child. But I admit that I don't have much experience in that field to make a reliable diagnosis. That's why I contacted Professor Armstrong to give me his opinion. After telling him all this, he said to me that you were in Oregon right now, and he strongly recommended I talk to you and ask for your help."

Matilda thought for a few seconds. Dr. Armstrong was one of the best child psychiatrists on the West Coast, and one of his specialties was precisely sociopathy in children. She also was actively working on that topic for her theses, with Armstrong's guidance, but she was still far from being an expert like him.

Why had Dr. Armstrong suggested that he should talk to her about it? Did he really feel that it was something she could take care of? Maybe he wanted her to look at the child and then pass him her observations, and then decide if it was worth or not to travel from New Haven to there. He was already an old man, after all; he could not, and should not, get on a plane at the first opportunity without there being a good reason.

However, how did he know she was in Oregon exactly? His Shining was enough to know where she was but not to know if this case was worth or not worth the trip? As it was, in other circumstances she would have been happy to do that favor to her former teacher, but she would have preferred that he ask for it himself, and not that she had to be contacted by someone who still could not give him a face. Besides that, he did it at the worst possible time.

Matilda sighed a little tired. She really did not have the head to continue that conversation, so she tried to cut it in the best way.

"Actually, I'm staying in Salem right now, and I'd love to help you, Doug. But I am here because I am attending to my own complicated case, and I am afraid that it has become more complicated just today. Why don't you send me the information you can about this girl and I will check it as soon as I have a chance?"

"I..." Matilda felt a considerable uncertainty in his voice. "Yeah, sure.

But I really would like, if possible, that you see her yourself and could give me your observations, since the information I can provide you I don't think it will transmit the whole situation."

And right here was then Matilda had one of those occasional flashes that illuminated her head, with much more strength and clarity to be a simple feeling. As soon as Doug spoke those words, a sudden thought ran through her: there was something else there.

What if Dr. Armstrong had recommended talking to her, not because of her theses about the child sociopathy... but because of her true specialty? He knew, at least in part, what Matilda was capable of, and the work she did for the Foundation. Perhaps before knowing her, he had never heard about the Shining or was fully aware that he possessed a little of it, it did not take him long to understand it as soon as it was time. What if Dr. Armstrong had sensed that this case had something more focused on that other branch? Perhaps he had had a feeling quite similar to what she was having at that moment.

"Is there anything else I should know?" The psychiatrist asked in a direct tone. "Something else, out of the ordinary do you want to tell me about this case?"

She heard Doug babble a little on the other side of the line, and hesitate about speaking or not. That single reaction told her immediately that, indeed, there was something he had not mentioned yet.

"This is something unofficial," he said after a while, whispering low as if he afraid that someone else would hear him. "I shouldn't talk about this, and maybe it's nothing. But an incident happened only a few days ago. Another boy, from the same group in which I treated this girl, during the night, and for no apparent reason, murdered his parents." Again, the words so sudden took Matilda off guard. "And the level of violence that he applied, hitting them with a stick until... That was not present in him before, I would have seen it in some way. And I'm not saying that girl was involved, but the social worker who is in charge of her is a good friend, and I think she also senses something strange after that happened."

"Something strange besides a possible APD?"

"I don't know. But Dr. Armstrong was sure that your previous experience with similar cases could give me some light. Although he didn't tell me what exactly you are doing right now. Are you treating children with severe behavioral disorders like this?"

Not exactly, it flashed through her head.

The description he had just given her was not enough to determine if there was anything related to the Shining involved in all this. However, it was enough to suppose that perhaps it was a case more for the Eleven Foundation than for the Portland Department of Family Affairs.

But it came at an awful time. Samara's case really consumed her too much energy, and she had not even been able to talk to Mrs. Morgan, or seriously considered the possibility of contacting the biological mother if she was still alive. And to finish, that incident that had just happened.

Are you going to fail with me? Will you leave me too?

Those words were still echoing in her head; the last vivid picture she had of Carrie White was also doing it.

She could not do much, not in those moments. She could ask Cody to review it, but if in addition to being a shining girl, it was a girl with APD, it was likely that he did not have enough tools to deal with it. Maybe the best thing was to contact Eleven and inform her about what happened, and so she could send someone else; perhaps that other person with more experience than she spoke to. But, she could only do it if she had more information, and, after it, she could decide which the right path was.

"Send me the information, and I promise to check it as soon as I can, okay?" She repeated, trying to be less blunt, but felt she had not quite achieved it.

"Yes, it's okay," Doug murmured, and Matilda could feel the disappointment in his voice without a problem. "Thank you, and I hope you do well with your complicated case."

"I hope so too. See you soon if everything goes well."

She passed him her email address, and they cut just after that. Matilda would wait to receive the mail so she could calmly review what it was about. However, such mail would never arrive, because it would not reach to be sent.

END OF CHAPTER 07

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

—Carrie White, who was mentioned in this chapter and in some of the previous ones, is a character belonging to Stephen King's novel Carrie, and protagonist of three films with the same name, from 1976, 2002 and 2013. Her participation in the story and the details of her position in time will be given in later chapters.

—Doug Ames, who phones Matilda, is a main character in the movie Case 39 of 2009. Likewise, how this film will influence this story and its position in time, will be detailed later.