Shining among Darkness

By
WingzemonX

Chapter 21
Breathe... just breathe

The taxi broke through the earth road surrounded by trees that led to the picturesque classic-style house, with a beautiful facade. It was already late, but the clear sky and the external lights of the property help to appreciate its beauty correctly. It was just outside Arcadia, about an hour from the Los Angeles International Airport, where the newcomer had landed. The yellow vehicle was parked right in front of the house, at the foot of the porch steps, and several perfectly well-groomed rose bushes that could only have grown that way with the constant care of a gentle and thoughtful hand.

The atmosphere that surrounded all that space was really reassuring and pleasant. A few times in his thirty-two years of life, she had been in a place that made her feel such positive energies. It was like if any trace of evil was simply repelled or kept on the street, afraid to penetrate more. It was really a place where Jane Wheeler would not mind at all spending several days... But not everything was so perfect.

From the backseat of the passengers, the woman looked up from the window to the upper floor of the house. Among all the bright energy that surrounded it, there was a small gray dot, an unstable and noisy gray dot that caused little stabbing pain in the back of her head. But she was not impressed; after all, it was just why she had gone there.

She paid to the driver for the trip and went down with her hand luggage and bag. The driver took out the larger suitcase in which she was carrying her clothes and then withdrew after a friendly "good night." He didn't notice that annoying gray dot over their heads, and it was better that way. An instant after the taxi got lost on the road, almost as if it had been intentionally waiting for him to leave, Jane began to hear a choked hustle that jutted out from the pleasant calm that had reigned since she arrived.

The windows on the upper floor were shaking, especially those of a room just over the front door. The interior lights also began to turn on and off alone, and among all this, Jane managed to perceive some small cries.

An old haunted house on the outskirts, many would think, but the reality was quite far from it... depending on who you asked. With her fingers, she adjusted one of the curly strands of her dark brown short hair and then began to walk towards the stairs carrying all her luggage. Before stepping on the first step, however, one of the large wooden doors at the entrance opened wide. The one who was supposed to be the owner of the house appeared on the other side. She was a thin woman near forty, with a white and sharp face, straight dark blond hair, well-groomed and neat that reached her shoulders, and dark brown eyes on which she wore round glasses with reddish frame.

Jane froze for a moment when she felt the impressed and confused eyes of that woman. If it weren't for that little gray dot over her, which she felt more intense now, she would have thought for a moment that she went to the wrong house. No one said anything until the woman finally seemed to react. The confusion in her eyes vanished, and suddenly it was as if she had just remembered something important that she had forgotten, or as if she had just woken up without knowing where she was, and suddenly that information hit her head.

"I'm sorry," the woman exclaimed at the door, and then raised her glasses so she could slightly carve her eyes. It was too dark and too far away to be sure of it, but it seemed to Jane that she had probably been crying not long ago. She wrapped herself with the pastel pashmina she had on her shoulders, even though it was a warm night. "You are Mrs. Wheeler, right?"

"Yes, I am," the woman with dark curls replied with a half-smile. She dared to climb the steps with everything and her suitcase and stood on the porch in front of her. "Jane Wheeler, to serve you, Mrs. Honey."

"Miss Honey..." the woman murmured softly but seemed to regret almost immediately having done so. "Never mind, thank you very much for coming..."

She extended her hand in greeting, and apparently, the newcomer was more than willing to accept it. However, before Jane could take it, a loud shout was heard from the top floor much more intense than the previous ones. It felt at the same time as the house shuddered, and the lights flickered. Miss Honey withdrew her hand and instinctively brought it to her chest, trying to suppress as she could a cry of fear that pushed out. Jane also lowered her hand to her side when she considered that handshake totally failed.

"Can I go in?" She asked softly.

"Yes, please," said the owner of the house hurriedly and stepping aside. Jane entered looking straight at the stairs leading to the upper floor, and unconsciously ignoring all the beautiful decorations of the hall, or the neatness with which everything was clean and accommodated. Only Miss Honey's voice managed to distract her even if she was a little focused on the stairs. "I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, but I don't have anyone else to turn to. I'm so worried about my daughter and..."

"Don't worry," Jane interrupted in a severe tone, raising her hand toward to indicate that she didn't have to apologize to her. "She is up, right?" Jennifer nodded quickly. "Let's go to see her."

Miss Honey guided her up, she went forward. For a little, that moment brought to Jane's mind the movie "The Exorcist," one of the first horror movies she had seen with her now-husband and friends. Strangely, a story about a girl possessed by the devil who was doing terrifying and incomprehensible acts for everyone was not peculiarly scary for her as was for the rest, even if it was based on a true story, as some people said. She might not say it openly with words, but it was quite likely she had seen enough more terrifying things by then to feel impressed by some makeup on an actress's face and a pair of rudimentary special effects.

Anyway, she wondered if any imaginary spectator from the bottom of the stairs, would see it and immediately relate to the priest going up to the bedroom of the protagonist who was going to help. Of course, the stage was much less gloomy; in fact, the house was really adorable and beautiful wherever she saw it. And she wasn't going to see a possessed girl, although inevitably there would be many people who would think differently.

The remote of the house, surrounded by an extensive land that separated it enough from its closest neighbors, had apparently been fruitful for keep secret the commotion that was being lived in that place. What most caught people's attention was the fact that the girl had not been in class for a week and a half already. And almost at the same time, her adoptive mother had asked for special permission on the school where she worked as a teacher. "Surely the little girl must be sick," many supposed, and for now, it was preferable to think that.

"She only manages to calm down when she sleeps, if she can do it," the dark blonde haired woman commented as they climbed. "Since yesterday, she no longer lets me into her room. She closes the door to me as soon as I try to open. She hasn't tasted a bite of food... I don't know what..."

As soon as they reached the upper hall, Miss Honey had to make a great effort to not let herself cry at that time. She had always been a strong woman. No situation broke her temper... until that moment. That had wholly surpassed her. Matilda, her adopted daughter and the light of her world, had always been so independent in every aspect of her life. And the first time she really needed her help, that she really needed her mother to tell her what to do or how to solve such a precarious situation, she was simply unable to do something. That filled her with an overwhelming and crippling frustration.

"It's fine, be calm," the guest murmured to her hostess in a low voice, running her hand over her back comfortingly. "Everything will be fine now, I promise."

Jennifer breathed hard through her nose and then ran her fingers discreetly along the side of her eyes.

"Thank you... Can you really help her?" Do you really know how to deal with something like this?"

Jane smiled, outside and inside. She didn't answer and kept walking to the girl's room as if she knew exactly where to go. She stood right in front of the door and waited for Jennifer to open it. The hustle was still heard from within.

"Matilda, my dear," Miss Honey murmured in front of the door. "Please, let me in..."

"No!" It was heard loudly snapping from inside a sharp little voice between small sobs. "I don't want to hurt you! I don't want...!"

Jane advanced to the door at that moment and gently turned her hostess aside.

"Let me try." Jane put her hand on the knob. Miss Honey would not see her action directly, but after focusing a few moments, the door locks were opened with the help of her own "special" ability, and then also managed to make the door open despite the opposition of the girl inside.

On the other side of the door was the room of a thirteen-year-old girl, but not like any other. The colors of the walls, the sheets of the bed, the carpet, everything was in sober colors. More than toys or posters of bands on the walls, there were two bookshelves, plus a shelf over his bed for trophies. There was a desk with a computer on one side and a small closet. However, the bookshelves, the shelves, the desk, and the closet were not as they should be. Several of the books, trophies, sheets of paper, and clothing were either lying on the floor... or floating in the air. Some were simply suspended, others passing quickly, crossing the room and crashing the walls. The computer was also on the floor, and the desk chair was tilted. Everything was too unreal...

"God, Matilda..." Jennifer exclaimed, drowning another cry. Jane, meanwhile, remained calm in the doorframe, analyzing the entire scenario. She indicated with one hand to the owner of the house to stay at the door and put her bag on the floor. She entered slowly, dodging all the projectiles that crossed the space of the room. There were many things everywhere, but no trace of the owner of them all. This one was, as she sensed, sitting on the side of the bed. The little girl with short brown hair was hugging her legs, her face sunk between them. She sobbed slowly, barely noticeable.

Feeling Jane's closeness, Matilda quickly raised her face and turned to see her, full of fear. Her eyes, and all her face, were red. Her eyes were somewhat bright, but apparently, she had cried so much that her tears had simply dried. Jane smiled slightly, and then crouched down in front of the bed, a couple of meters from her.

"Hello, Matilda," said the stranger to the little girl, very softly. "My name is Jane, but you can tell me Eleven. All my friends do it."

The girl did not answer. She stared at her with her deep blue eyes wide open. She was trying perhaps to analyze it enough to determine who she exactly was since, apparently, her presentation had not convinced her. Surely she was digesting the idea that a stranger out of nowhere, discovered her secret and that way.

"You've nothing to fear," Jane whispered very slowly as if she were telling her some little secret. "I'm here to help you."

Jane lifted her hand to the side, and a book that was on the floor a few meters away came off the ground and flew to her hands, trapping it between her fingers with ease. Matilda was startled, surprised. She hadn't done that, that strange woman was.

"You too...?" The kid whispered in a broken voice; Jane just smiled.

"Tell me, what's the matter, honey?" Jane asked without changing her position or tone.

"I can't turn it off," the girl muttered suddenly, her voice struggling to make herself noticed through all the anguish that ate her throat. "In the past, I could control it; I could turn it off without a problem. But now I can't ... I can't. I don't want to hurt my mom... I don't want to hurt anyone, but I can't stop."

"Yes, of course you can, Matilda," Jane declared quite firmly, almost aggressively. "That ability you have is only yours and nobody else's. Only you decide when to use it and when not."

"No! I can't! I already told you I can't!" The girl yelled at her quite loudly, and the entire floor beneath their feet shuddered, so much that it seemed it would break. Jennifer had to hold the door frame to avoid falling.

"Matilda..." Exclaimed her mother with absolute concern, and unwittingly her body stepped forward to approach her.

"Stay back," Jane told her in such an authoritarian tone, that the woman's thin body also stopped dead in place. Jane concentrated then only on Matilda. She dared to approach her a little, and the girl instinctively leaned back, so she chose not to advance more than she should. She raised both hands to the front, as a sign of calm and began to speak slowly. "Listen to me, Matilda. Listen to me... only... to me..."

****

By the time they reached Eola, it was already getting dark, but there was still enough sun. Even so, the air that enveloped the psychiatric hospital was so thick and dark that one felt so insecure and exposed as if you were alone in the middle of the night, with absolutely nothing and no one around. In fact, the parking lot was lonely when they entered, except for the employees' own vehicles that Matilda had always seen every day that she had gone to that place.

They parked almost at the entrance door. When they got off, the three looked thoughtfully towards the white building, the three with confusion and compelling expressions.

"Do you also feel that?" Cole asked like a small whisper.

"The disturbing feeling that we shouldn't be here?" Cody replied the same way.

"Yes, the same..."

The premonitions or hunches that their Shine gave them at times seemed to have gone wild as soon as they approached that place. The three felt it, and although they had not expressed it openly with words, they also thought that the others did too. Something pretty wrong was happening, or at least it had happened.

Matilda was the first to overcome this paralyzing sensation and move towards the door. Inevitably, her two companions were forced to follow her as well.

Although the outside of the hospital felt calm and silent, the interior was very different. There was a lot of noise, the echo of voices and footsteps resounding in the halls, and coming somehow or other towards them. While they were advancing down the main hall towards the reception cubicle, they didn't see many people. Still, at least three nurses touched them from one hallway to another in a great hurry, and another one carrying a man, almost catatonic, in a Wheelchair.

The reception nurse, the one who had treated Matilda on her first day there, was on the phone. Her lethargic state at that time, and that had been constant in the following days, had disappeared. Now she seemed to be with the blood flowing faster, talking loudly on the phone, checking her notebook, and also the computer at the same time. The young woman did not notice their presence until they were a few steps away. As soon as she saw Matilda, she put aside everything she was doing, even dropped the phone to the floor, causing a loud and almost painful blow, and jumped out of her chair.

"Dra. Honey, thank heaven," she exclaimed energetically and relieved, which confused the Psychiatrist quite a bit.

"Good afternoon... What was it...?" Before her question was finished, the nurse hurried out of her place and headed, almost running, to the adjacent hallway.

"Dr. Johnson! Dr. Johnson!" They heard her scream as she walked away. The three watched her run, until it was no longer possible.

"It looks like it's popular around here, Doctor," said Cole, somewhat mockingly.

"That's new to me," said the brunette, too confused to react correctly.

They did not have to wait long. Dr. Johnson in person soon appeared in a hurry, coming down the same hall through which the young woman had left. She did not come with him, so Matilda supposed that she had stayed perhaps attending to some other issue.

"Dra. Honey," Johnson exclaimed, equally terrifyingly excited and relieved to see her. He looked somewhat tired and distracted. "Apology me, everything is in chaos. We had to move all our patients from the section of Samara, and it was not easy because there were some of our most problematic patients.

"Move them, why?" Matilda questioned notoriously on the defensive. "What happened? Where is Dr. Scott?"

"I don't know where he went... He..." Johnson stammered, apparently doubting what to say and whatnot, and this made Matilda's attitude even more aggressive. She approached him, facing him head-on, and although she was shorter than him, it also intimidated him enough to push him back a little.

"Listen to me," Matilda began to say in a slow but firm voice, "you'll have to tell me everything that happened right now, without hiding anything. Otherwise, we cannot help you." Johnson then looked over the doctor's head at the other two men who accompanied her. "They come with me; they are my associates."

"Associates?" Asked the doctor, confused. "Are they psychiatrists too?"

"In my spare time," Cole hurried to respond sarcastically. Matilda looked at him over his shoulder with a scolding look but turned almost immediately back to Johnson.

"They are already aware of the case. You can speak freely."

Johnson removed his glasses and ran his hand across his face, carving him with some force. It seemed that he did not want to do it, but in the end, he had no choice. He told them the best he could about what happened that morning, how Samara had reacted, and what she had done to Dr. Scott. Finally, he told the little he knew about the strange event that had just spent hours back in Samara's room and caused all the fuss.

Matilda's face was rock hard as she listened to him. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes almost flashed with courage in them. She turned by mere instinct towards the reception desk and leaned on it with both hands while breathing slowly to try to calm down.

"You're a bunch of idiots," she muttered under her breath. "What were you thinking?! And do you call yourselves psychiatrists? Where did you study, you pair of...?"

She forced herself to remain silent before she said anything she really regretted.

"We didn't know what else to do..." Johnson murmured hesitantly.

"Not make her angry; to begin, that would have been a good idea!"

"That was Scott, I don't ... I don't ..."

Johnson began to babble, unable to formulate a coherent sentence. He backed slowly and dropped into one of the chairs in the waiting area. He held his face with his hands, and it was heard as he breathed a little agitated. Cole and Cody looked at him somewhat perplexed; Matilda kept turning her back, turned to the desk.

"I didn't even fully believe this was true," Johnson muttered, barely audible. "A part of me always believed that all this girl was doing was some kind of trick that we couldn't explain yet, but sooner or later, we would find out, and that would end it all." He withdrew his hands from his face and then pointed toward one of the corridors, horror on his face. "But what she did in that hallway... Oh God... this can't be real."

Dr. Johnson's mood was not really very different from Vazquez's. They both saw things that could not be explained, but their heads struggled to try. When it didn't work, people's reactions varied. Vazquez's aggressiveness and Johnson's denial were among the most common.

"Where is she now?" Matilda asked after a moment of silence.

"In her room. Still tied to her stretcher, I suppose."

"Tied?!" The brunette snapped, turning toward him. "What do you mean with tied?!"

"All those who approach that site end up injured in some way. She's out of control... we don't know what..."

Johnson shied again and hid his face in his hands. The image of Samara, tied up, alone and helpless in a room like the one Johnson had described to them... Matilda's stomach turned, but she restrained herself from any visible reaction. She breathed hard, regained serenity, and then managed to stand up again. She took her bag and left it on the counter, taking out only her cell phone. She adjusted her suit quickly with her hands and then continued with her hair. This had no specific purpose; it was more an involuntary tic to clear her mind.

"Keep the other patients and staff safe," Matilda muttered slowly. "I'll take care of it."

"We'll take care of it," Cole added decisively. Matilda saw the sidelong officer, with not so good disposition at a glance.

"Come on, Matilda," she heard Cody say, almost like a scolding. The brunette simply sighed in resignation and began to hurry towards Samara's room. Cole and Cody followed her at a safe distance.

— — — —

Matilda battled in her mind all the options. The idea that Samara could capture those images beyond the paper, radiographs, or people own mind had always been a possibility. Walls, ceilings, and floor, all they are nothing more than surfaces, not very different from a paper if they talked about a cellular modification to the levels they had theorized. But that she could do it suddenly, and on a scale like the one described by Dr. Johnson, had definitely not been in her predictions. Besides that, the image he described to them was quite... disturbing. And even then, only when they were standing in that hallway, they were able to digest it in its entirety.

The three stood still around the corner. It was as if they had suddenly entered another building without noticing it. Several of the ceiling lamps had broken, so the light was poor. What they could see, however, was... quite uncomfortable. Gnawed walls, full of oxide, humidity stains, and even traces of vegetation breaking through the cracks. The ground was covered with a huge and nothing pleasant puddle, like the water of some rain leaked and mixed with the garbage and other crap from the site. It felt a cold environment, not unbearable but enough to feel uncomfortable or at least with the need to have another coat. There were small traces of dust, or at least something very similar, hovering around the air. And the smell was perhaps the worst; the smell of dead animal, stagnant water, decomposing garbage. It was so nauseating, impossible not to feel at least a small arch.

"God," Cody exclaimed, dumbfounded, looking at everything carefully.

"I think it's not the best place to avoid nightmares, Professor," Cole added, trying to sound funny, but he hadn't really done it at all.

After doubting a few moments, Matilda activated the lamp of her phone. With it, she managed to light the way better, especially the ground. Cole and Cody followed her. The three held their phones with one hand, and the other covered their noses and mouths as much as possible to resist the smell. Their shoes ended up stepping on that dirty water, but they tried not to think about that at the moment. As a child, Matilda liked to go to the river to look for reptiles, fishes, and insects to catalog them. So, she just tried to imagine that she was doing that again.

"Cody, is this similar to what you told me you did as a child?" Matilda asked curiously.

"Yes... Believe it or not, it brings back memories," Cody murmured, somewhat uncertain.

"Did you do something like this before?" Asked Cole incredulously.

"Not exactly something like that, but my abilities also affected the entire space I was in, creating a rather unpleasant scenario. Coincidentally, they also drugged me on that occasion to make me fall asleep."

"So, do you think all this is an illusion?" Cole asked.

Cody shook his head.

"I don't think this is an illusion or something like what I do. This... is something else."

"Yes, I feel it too. There is something quite heavy on this site, which is simply not natural."

"Do you mean...?" Cody looked at him, somewhat impressed. Now Cole was the one who denied.

"If you ask about ghosts, no. There are ghosts that, with enough energy, can materialize and affect our world physically, but not at this level. But there are other types of forces that can do something like this, or even much more."

"Other forces like what exactly?"

Cole let out a mocking giggle, immediately followed by a whimper of annoyance because apparently, he had stepped on something he could not describe. His first instinct was to withdraw his foot abruptly as fast as he could.

"We'd better leave that for another more pleasant scenario, Professor," the officer murmured in disgust.

They go forward for about two more minutes until Matilda illuminated with her light a completely rusty door lying in the middle of the hall. On its left side was the frame in which the door was before, with still traces of its hinges on it. That was Samara's room.

Matilda took a deep breath, or at least as deep as the vitiated and putrid air that surrounded them allowed them, and moved a little faster towards the door. And then she heard the sobs, little painful sobs that came from inside the room, and that made her stop for a few moments. She moved slowly until she looked inside. The state of what she managed to focus with her light was just as deplorable as the rest of the hall. Except for a pure white and mostly clean spot that stood out from the rest of the room as soon as the light touched it: the white of Samara's hospital gown.

In fact, the girl was still lying on the stretcher, of sheets now full of moisture stains and holes, tied by wrist and ankles by old leather straps, but still with enough strength to hold her. The girl had her face dampened by her own tears and sobbed inconsolably in panic. As soon as the light illuminated her, she turned her eyes toward the entrance as her position allowed.

"Ma... tilda...?" She whispered weakly.

"Samara," Matilda said, dumbfounded to see her in such a state. Without thinking, she moved into the room. "Don't worry, I'm going to..."

"Don't come near me!" The girl shouted loudly, and her voice rumbled in the echo of the walls, which began to crack a little. The water on their feet also began to alter, and Cody and Cole alike suddenly felt that they were actually reaching them higher, at least to the ankles. "I don't... want to see you..." Samara muttered brokenly. "You lied to me... you said you would come to see me, and you didn't! You let me get caught! You let her do this to me!"

The more she shouted, the state of the space around them seemed to get worse little by little. Even the ground at their feet began to feel soft as if it were going to open at any moment to swallow them all.

Samara was mad with Matilda too. It was not something she had thoroughly predicted, but it was not unexpected. It was true, she had told her that she was going to talk to her mother, and that day would come early just to talk, but she didn't. She supposed it would be fine, just delay it a bit. The matter of Portland, Doug, and Lilly Sullivan took importance in her head, and she thought everything would be fine... but it was not so. That horrible incident was not just Scott and Johnson's fault; she was guilty too... again...

"You said you would help me! You told me everything would be fine!"

Those words, some time ago, exclaimed against her with the same feeling, rumbled in her head.

She tried again to approach. Her left hand held the cell phone, and the other was extended towards Samara in a sign of calm. Matilda tried to use her telekinesis to take away Samara's ties while she was talking.

"Samara, you must calm down," she whispered very slowly. She almost managed to remove the strap from her left wrist.

"I can't!" The girl almost snapped as if it hurt. Suddenly, a long wound was drawn right in Matilda's right palm, from end to end.

"Ah!" The psychiatrist exclaimed with a groan of pain, regressing instinctively. Her phone fell from her hands, falling into the water, although the flashlight was still shining.

"Matilda!" Cody and Cole came to his aid. Cole lit her palm with his light, while Cody checked it. It was a little deep, clean, and straight cut. Blood began to emerge freely from the wound and drain from the side.

"How she did that?" Asked Cole, taking off his blue tie with one hand. He then passed it to Cody to use it as an improvised bandage. Cody tied it with some force around her hand. Matilda didn't even show pain. Her mind had engaged in that question: how had she done it? Was it something derived from how she reflected her thoughts and ideas in all that environment?

"Go away, Matilda..." Samara sobbed. "I don't want to hurt you... I don't want to hurt more people ..."

Matilda carefully withdrew her hand from Cody and motioned both of them with her head to back off. Unsure, they took a couple of steps back, staying at the door. The brunette looked around; the light on her phone had gone out, which was a bad sign, but she would take care of that later. Now she could only be guided by the light of Cole and Cody, because without them, she would be in those moments in absolute darkness, for sure. She held the tie around her wound with her left hand, pressing it against it, and began to move in Samara's direction. The closer she got, the walls, the ceiling, and the floor seemed weaker, as if they were turning into paper.

"You haven't hurt anyone, Samara," Matilda murmured with utmost comfort. "Listen, That ability you have is only yours and nobody else's. Only you decide when to use it and when not. It's your gift..."

"I can't," Samara replied between cries. "She is stronger than me..."

"She?" Matilda exclaimed, confused, already halfway between the door and the stretcher. "Samara, who is she?"

The girl was silent for a moment, except for her cries.

"Go away! She yelled at the end, and Matilda felt as if someone was pushing her back with strength. She staggered a little, taking a couple of false steps backward but managing at the end to avoid falling.

She was perplexed for a few seconds. Telekinesis? Samara was likely to have a bit of it just as she had some telepathy. Her own theory of how she burn those images at a cellular level did not conflict with that idea. Even so, that way she was pushed was strange, somewhat unusual to when she had felt a telekinetic push from someone else. She felt it more as if someone really pushed her with her hands back... as if there was someone else there...

Matilda looked around, almost by instinct. She did not really expect to see anyone else standing there in the shadows, and in fact, he did not see it... although, that corner furthest from her, the one that remained totally dark since the lights of Cole and Cody's cell phones did not touch it, for a few moments her mind made her feel that the cold emanating from that corner was much more intense than the rest. Was anyone there staring at them without being able to see him... or her? Her intuition seemed not to be decided yet between says yes or no.

"I'll try to stop her," Cody murmured, stepping forward, ready to materialize whatever might help them calm her down, sleep her, or whatever was necessary.

"Don't!" Matilda yelled loudly, turning to them. "If you attack her, you will only disturb her more. You two stay behind, don't intervene."

Cody hesitated; the situation seemed too volatile to leave her alone, and Cole felt the same. However, in the end, the professor backed away, giving Matilda her space. She took a deep breath through her nose, not caring about the smell around her, and exhaled through her mouth. She let go of her hand, leaving her free even if it continued to bleed a little. She raised her hands to the front in a calm position, and stepped forward, dragging her feet through the water.

"Samara, listen to me carefully. Listen to me very well, only to me," she began to say in a low, rather calm voice considering the scenario. The girl on the stretcher turned to see her, fearful. "Trust me, little one. I can help you calm this down, and I won't leave or let you hurt someone. I swear to you for my life. Do you believe in me, Samara? Will you allow me to help you?"

The girl remained silent, staring at her with notorious doubt in her gaze. Without needing to be able to read her mind, Matilda knew that she was discussing herself internally about what to answer. In the end, she nodded repeatedly, and with that, Matilda dared to get closer.

"Listen to me very carefully," she whispered, "listen only to me..."

****

"Close your eyes," Eleven said cautiously. "Close them and breathe... just breathe."

Matilda looked at her in tears, totally confused. She closed her eyes as she asked, although they seemed to resist that change. The kid had already tried that: close her eyes, breathe, calm down, but nothing worked. Even so, somehow that woman encouraged her to try again.

"Breath slowly," Eleven continued, "inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Don't think about anything, just breathe."

She obeyed. With her eyes closed, she inhaled slowly through her little nose and then exhaled through her mouth. She repeated the same thing about five times.

"Good, you are doing it very well, Matilda. Now, I've heard you have a great imagination, and I need you to put it to work right now. You've seen your kitchen stove, right?" Matilda did not quite understand the question but nodded without opening her eyes. "Surely, you see it every day, more than once. You know its color, its shape... I want you to visualize it in your mind, as clear and detailed as you can. Imagine it right in front of you. Don't stop breathing right as you are doing it right now."

That word didn't make much progress in reducing her confusion, but she also fulfilled that request, in the way she could best. In her head, she was in a completely black space everywhere, above and below it. But despite all that darkness, she could clearly see the stove before her, just like her kitchen. Some years ago, her mother had changed the old white stove of a rather old-fashioned model, for a more modern bright chrome.

"Can you see it, Matilda?" She heard Eleven whisper, ringing in her head with a distant echo. "One of the burners is on."

Upon hearing that, Matilda turned her eyes directly to the left front burner. And indeed, it was on... rather than on. The blue flame rose strongly like a large thicket. It was bright, incandescent, and somehow seductive.

"I see it..." Matilda whispered doubtfully.

"How is this flame? Describe it to me..."

****

"It is with full strength..." Samara whispered between small sobs, her eyes closed. "The flame is too intense, it is very hot!"

"Don't be afraid, Samara," Matilda whispered softly, standing on the side of the bed, a meter away from her. "It won't hurt you. That flame serves you, not you to it. You can control it at any time you want, remember? You decide if it turns on or off: the handles are right in front of the stove. You see them?"

Within the mental image of Samara, she managed to divert her gaze from the beautiful and incandescent blue flame to the handles located on the front panel of the stove. Only one of them was open.

"Yes... I see them..."

"You can turn them whenever you want," Matilda said firmly. "Right now, I want you to extend your hand slowly towards the open handle, very carefully."

Samara stepped forward and shyly raised her hand to the handle. Then she took another step, and one more; each one had even less security than the previous one.

"Come closer and touch the knob with your fingers."

"It's too hot..." Samara exclaimed, scared, and she really felt it. She could feel the overwhelming heat of that flame, hitting her directly in the face.

"It doesn't matter; that heat can't hurt you. Take the knob."

Samara continued advancing step by step, resisting the uncomfortable burning sensation, until she placed her fingers on that knob, which she felt quite real against her yolks.

"You have it?"

"Yes, I have it..."

"Good, you are doing it very well, Samara. Now..."

****

"Turn it slowly to close it," Eleven instructed then, "very slowly."

Matilda began to turn the knob back to its original position, in the direction that would place it vertically, with the end with the red mark facing up. But in fact, it was slow, very slow.

"Have your gaze fixed on the flame," Eleven continued, "watch how it slowly goes down as you turn it. You see it?"

"Yes! I can see it!" The girl exclaimed enthusiastically. In fact, that intense and unreal flame began to gradually become smaller, and the heat was still calming down.

"Don't rush it. Keep turning it... step by step... the flame is reduced and reduced. Everything calms down, the heat is disappearing..." Everything Eleven described happened in her mind with total clarity. "And then... the flame goes out."

Matilda turned the handle completely, returning to the same position as all the others. For a moment, the huge flame was reduced to only small blue flashes, which eventually died out disappearing completely.

Matilda's eyes widened just then, only to see how the few things that were still floating, fell to the ground; some delicately, others somewhat more cumbersome. She looked around incredulously. Everything had calmed down. Nothing floated, nothing trembled. Everything was silent and in perfect peace.

The girl began to cry in those moments, unable to tell if they were tears of anguish, confusion, or perhaps of happiness and relief.

"Oh, my lovely..." she heard her mother exclaim loudly, and in a blink, Miss Honey hurried toward her. She crouched beside and hugged her. Matilda hugged her back, squeezing her tight as if she feared she would leave somehow. Jennifer ran her comforting hand through her hair and back, giving her several kisses on the little head. "Everything is fine, everything is fine."

Jennifer looked up at Eleven, who was already standing and was watching them from a safe distance. Miss Honey's eyes were also about to shed tears, but she did know for sure the feeling that accompanied them.

"Thank you, thank you," Jennifer exclaimed, barely able to speak with all the emotions that stuck in her throat. Eleven just smiled at her, satisfied with the scene before her.

****

Years later, when Samara also opened her eyes again in that horrible room, the result would be the same. All the heavy and overwhelming feeling that enveloped and yelled loudly at them to leave immediately, dissipated. The floor felt fixed again, and even some of the hall lights, and the room's own light, came on.

"I do it... I do it ..." Samara sobbed between surprised and relieved.

"You did it. Of course, you did it," Matilda said proudly. She went immediately to the stretcher. There was no longer any kind of attack, and she was also surprised to feel that the water that rose through her feet was now only a large puddle so she could move better. The brunette quickly untied the straps that imprisoned the girl, first her feet, and finally her wrists. As soon as she was free, Samara sat down and surrounded Matilda with her arms tightly by mere reflex, and began to cry heartily against her chest.

"I didn't want to do it... I didn't want to do it..." she repeated several times between his cries.

"I know, I know," Matilda whispered slowly, hugging her more gently and running her good hand through her long hair. "Take it easy, I'm here. Everything will be fine."

While Matilda comforted the girl, from the door, Cole watched astonished all that had happened. The brunette had maintained her composure in an almost military way. She seemed to know precisely get that girl to listen to her. Both things could only be the result of the experience she carried with her. Watch her doing what she did, immediately remind Eleven, from the day he met her, the way she spoke to him, and the feeling that had caused. It was like going back to that moment, and that created a strange but not unpleasant stomach sensation. Now he could understand a little why among all the stories the people from the Foundation said about her, there were two or three who referred to Matilda as "Eleven's favorite." He thought it was just the usual jealousy of being okay with Mama Bear. But now, he could see that it wasn't exactly that, and it wasn't about particular favoritism. Instead, that words referred to the spirit they both projected, even that inherent aggressiveness involved in kindness and sweetness. Both were quite similar.

"Try to be careful with Matilda. You've never met anyone like her before." Eleven had told him at the end of that call they had a couple of weeks ago. Well, he wasn't quite sure about it.

Cody could also have been fascinated by what Matilda had just achieved before his eyes. Still, the truth is that his mind was more concentrated, and worried, for something else. He looked around with some fear. The girl's powers had gone out truly; he had no doubt about it. However, the appearance of that room and the hallway remained the same: rust, moisture, everything was still there. He touched a wall with his fingers just to make sure; it felt rough, just as its appearance indicated. From his experience with such skills, he learned that touch, or any other sense, was not a guarantee of the truth. All of them could be deceived, just like the view itself. But that same experience allowed him to conclude with almost complete certainty that all that was not an illusion; all of that was absolutely real. And what confused him the most, what he felt most did not fit, was the water on his feet, which was still there.

His mind was beginning to take several turns in it, and every second somewhat tangible anxiety was born in his chest, no longer created directly by that girl in those moments... but for what it could be.

"I always managed to avoid her and not see her," the three heard Samara murmuring against Matilda's chest, still not calming down a bit. "But this time, I couldn't."

Matilda failed to understand those words.

"What do you mean, Samara?"

"I saw the monster," she murmured brokenly. I saw the monster that always appears in my nightmares... I saw it from the front..."

Again Matilda did not understand, or at least not initially. Immediately, what Samara had said the previous day came to her mind; about something she wanted to talk to her about.

"It's about my nightmares, the ones I told you about before. There's something about these that I didn't tell you, something that always appears in them."

"It was just a dream, darling," Matilda said calmly, still running her fingers through her hair.

"No, it's real, the monster is real," Samara said almost in a panic. She separated her face from her psychiatrist and turned to see her with wet cheeks. "It's me..." She snapped suddenly, creating a wave of confusion not only in Matilda but also in the other two listeners. "I am the monster... I am the monster..."

Before Matilda could ask something, Samara stuck her face against her again, still crying though a little more slowly. Without saying anything, the brunette also hugged and comforted her back with her hands. None of the three had enough information at the moment to draw a conclusion about what those words meant. Even so, the anxiety that Cody was beginning to feel was suddenly increased.

END OF CHAPTER 21