South Of Hell

episode.

“You want to talk any about Lily?” Joe asked.

“No,” Louis said, not looking at her.

He heard her sigh. Maybe she felt the need to talk about it more than he did, but he couldn’t right now. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Not to Joe and certainly not to Lily. He wouldn’t know until the day came when he met her.

Louis rose, gathered up the chicken bucket and empty wine bottle, and went to the kitchenette. He tossed the garbage and opened the fridge. There were six Heinekens and two sodas. He grabbed a soda.

“Oh… stop! Stop! God, help me, please! Stop it!”

Amy.

He ran to the bedroom, Joe at his heels. Amy was in the bed, sitting straight up, both hands rigid in front of her face. He grabbed her shoulders before he realized it might scare her even more.

“Amy! Wake up.”

She started thrashing at him, twisting away from him so violently she tangled herself in the blankets. He reached for her again but caught only the sleeve on her pajamas. It ripped as she scrambled from the bed.

“I have to get to the corn!” she said. “I can’t lead them to John. I have to run. Oh, Lord, help me, please!”

Joe tried to catch her, but Amy pushed away from her, stumbling across the bedroom. She was heading right toward the window. It was thick glass, but Louis wasn’t sure she couldn’t put herself through it.

He lunged for her. They both tumbled to the carpet.

“No! No!” Amy cried.

He pinned her wrists and looked to Joe. Amy was crying, bucking against his hold. She wasn’t very strong, and it was easy to hold her down.

Joe dropped to her knees next to them. When Amy felt Joe’s hands on her back, she started to relax. Louis let go of Amy’s wrists, and she drew her arms under her face, weeping.

“I’m going to die,” she whimpered. “I’m going to die.”

“You’re not going to die, Amy,” Joe said, rubbing her back. “I promise you. You’re not going to die.”

Amy was on her side, hands clasped against her chest, eyes closed. She had lapsed into a sudden, comalike sleep, just as she had done at the farmhouse.

Joe sat back on her heels. “Louis, we can’t keep doing this,” she said. “This girl belongs in a hospital.”

“Dr. Sher doesn’t think so,” Louis said.

“Dr. Sher has only seen Amy a couple of times,” Joe said. “And she hasn’t seen one of these attacks. We could be doing her irreparable damage by not having her in a place where she can be watched twenty-fours a day.”

“And medicated so she can’t remember any of this stuff?” he said.

“Maybe she’s not meant to remember,” Joe said. “Maybe there’s nothing to remember that has anything to do with her mother. It’s probably memories of her own abuse. Why force her to relive it?”

“Not remembering makes it worse,” he said. “And you heard her tonight. She wants to remember. She wants to go back and see Dr. Sher again.”

Joe sat back against the wall, staring at Amy. “I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing here,” she whispered. “She scares me. This whole thing scares me.”

Amy was resting on the red settee, eyes closed. Louis and Joe were seated near the piano, far enough away not to be a distraction but close enough to hear. Amy had asked that Louis be allowed to sit in this time. It had surprised him, but ever since he had given her the locket, she didn’t seem to mind him being around. In fact, this morning, on the way to the Bronco, she’d whispered to him that he shouldn’t tell Joe about the necklace because she would take it away from her.

He hadn’t told Joe about the locket. Nor had he given voice to the question that had been in his head since the trip to the medical examiner: Why had Amy put her own hair into the locket?

The click of the tape recorder drew his attention back to Dr. Sher. The room was quiet and warm. He and Joe waited in silence while the doctor again took Amy back to her nightmare, telling her there was nothing to be afraid of and that she was safe.

“Tell me where you are,” Dr. Sher said.

“I don’t know,” Amy said.

“Look down at yourself,” Dr. Sher said. “Look at your clothes and shoes. What do they look like?”

“I’m wearing a blue dress,” Amy said. “And black leather lace-up shoes. They don’t fit me right, and they’re heavy and hard to run in.”

“Are you running now?”

“No,” Amy said. “But I’m afraid. I hear the horses coming. I see a white horse pulling a black carriage. I hear the men. The fire is in their hands.”

Louis caught Joe’s eye and mouthed the word Carriage? She just shook her head.

“Are there other people with you, Amy?” Dr. Sher said.

“He is there… and his wife.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. They’re watching.”

“What do they look like?” Dr. Sher asked.

“He has eyeglasses and a long black coat, heavy to keep the cold away. She wearing a long yellow dress, and her hair is black and piled up on her head.”

Louis glanced at Joe. She was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, mesmerized by Amy’s narrative.

“I’m running,” Amy said. “I’m running through the corn. It’s cold, so cold. My chest hurts.”

“Why are you running?”

“They’re chasing me,” Amy said. “I hear the horse’s hooves on the dirt. They’re close, very close. But I can’t go to the cellar. John is there, and I can’t let them find John. So I run to the corn.”

Amy’s breathing became labored.

“What is it, Amy?”

“They found me. They found me in the corn. They’re dragging me back, back to the barn. No!”

“Calm down, Amy,” Dr. Sher said. “You’re safe. Just tell me what you see.”

“He has a whip.”

“Who? The man with the eyeglasses?”

“No, one of the others,” she said. “The fire… I can feel it on my skin.”

“Is the barn on fire?”

“No, no,” Amy said impatiently. “Torches! They scare me, but I can’t move. I can’t move. I am naked now. They have taken my clothes. I’m so cold.”

“Slow down,” Dr. Sher said. “Relax.”

Amy’s voice suddenly deepened, became almost unrecognizable. “Stand back,” she said. “You stand back, Amos. You let us do what we need to do.”

“Who is speaking, Amy?”

Amy let out a low moan. “The ropes… they are pulling me up on the hook. The whip… it hurts. It rips and rips. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”

“Amy, pull yourself away from the pain, and get past the whipping,” Dr. Sher said. “Look down now. Where are you?”

For the next few seconds, Amy was quiet. Dr. Sher glanced up, meeting Louis’s eyes. She seemed as mystified as he was.

“I’m lying on the ground,” Amy said softly. “I’m freezing but warm with my own blood.”

Dr. Sher placed her hand gently over Amy’s.

“I hear digging,” Amy whispered. “They are digging a grave. It is my grave.”

Louis heard Joe pull in a quick breath.

Then, suddenly, Amy went limp. She fell quiet again. It was the second or third time she had, but Louis got