Warren snored.
Not only was this beast of a man both physically and morally repugnant, he came with matching sound effects.
One of the flight attendants had offered me earplugs, but I declined; I waved him off and held up my headphones. When he left to tend to Warren’s other offendees, I took another cassette from my bag.
Dark room—M. Kepler—September 12, 2007
Michael had been fifteen years old in 2007. Eleven years after the last tape.
I had taken everything I found in Dr. Rose’s files, but surely there was more. I knew from personal experience that Dr. Bart taped all sessions, and he’d seen Michael several times per week. Possibly hundreds of tapes were missing. Either Dr. Rose had hidden them somewhere, or they were still in Dr. Bart’s office, or someone else had them.
Where were my tapes?
I hadn’t found any of mine.
I put on my headphones. Slipped the cassette into my player and pressed Play.
Dr. Bart cleared his throat. “I have something special for you today.”
“Oh yeah? What?”
It was weird, hearing Michael’s voice, older now. Not quite his current voice, but somewhere in between the child of the other tape and the present. A voice from my past.
“You’ll need to go into the dark room.”
“Why can’t we just stay out here and talk at your desk?”
“You know why.”
“Your research?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever wondered how your research would play out in the light? Would you get the same results or something different?”
“If the research was conducted in the light, it wouldn’t be the same, now would it? You change such an integral variable, and the experiment is compromised.”
“Or possibly improved.”
“Or degraded.”
“Different, though,” Michael pointed out. “Sometimes different is good.”
“Are you afraid to go into the dark room?”
“No. Of course not.”
“But you always come up with excuses to put it off.”
“Did I say I wouldn’t go in?”
“It was implied in your comments.”
“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”
Sound of a drawer opening and closing. “You’ll need these.”
Michael didn’t respond.
“Go on, take them.”
“Why do I need scissors? Aren’t those Megan’s?”
“I’ll return them when we’re done.”
I paused the tape. I remembered my missing scissors, the ones with the purple handle. When I told Dr. Rose I couldn’t find them, she blamed me. Said I was always losing everything because I didn’t put things back where they belonged.
Thanks, Dr. Bart. Steal from kids much?
I pressed Play again.
The sound of scissors slipping across the desk. I could almost see them.
“Pleasure or pain?” Michael asked.
“You know I can’t tell you. Not in advance.”
“Your research.”
“My research. You need to go in of your own free will, regardless of what is to come.”
“And what if I say no?”
“That is your right. I won’t force you. You know that.”
Michael went quiet for a second. Then: “How long this time?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Michael exhaled.
The sound of scissors opening and closing.
When Michael spoke again, his voice carried the blind confidence held by every fifteen-year-old boy. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
A drawer opening and closing again.
“You can remove the blindfold once you’re inside.”
Michael sighed but didn’t push back.
A crackle filled the tape. Somebody picking up the recorder, carrying it. I heard the sound of Dr. Bart inserting his various keys into the locks of the dark room’s door. The twist and click of a dead bolt. I always expected the door to squeak when he opened it, make some foreboding high-pitched whine, but it never came. When I closed my eyes, though, I could see it.
The door slowly swinging open. Dr. Bart guiding Michael inside as he had with me on so many occasions.
“Sit here,” Dr. Bart said. “I’ve placed a stool for you. That’s my boy.”
The door closed then. The click of the latch. The twist of the dead bolt.
Dr. Bart knocked twice on it, as was his practice. “Can you hear me okay?”
“Yes,” Michael replied, his voice muffled from the other side.
“You may remove your blindfold now.”
I knew it wouldn’t matter. The room itself was pitch-black, always was. Not the slightest bit of light allowed in. The blindfold’s only purpose was to ensure you didn’t see anything while the door was open, while you were stepping into the room.
“What’s that smell?”
Dr. Bart said, “You’re not alone in there, Michael. Four hours ago, one of my other patients entered the room, and she’s still inside. Unlike you, she is not only blind but deaf. I won’t go into how I was able to block both senses, that’s a discussion for another time, but it’s important you understand she doesn’t know you’re in there with her. She has water, should you become thirsty. Although I don’t know how she’ll react if you try and take it. I suggest you keep those scissors handy in case she doesn’t react favorably to your presence.”
His voice dropped off momentarily, then he continued. “I gave her something else, Michael. Something I went through a great deal of trouble to secure. Obtaining evidence from a homicide can be a costly endeavor. I had to call in numerous favors, but I felt it was necessary to ensure the success of this experiment. It’s the hacksaw Maxwell Pullen used to dismember your mother. When I gave it to this girl, the one in there with you, I told her it was her only means of defense and she shouldn’t be afraid to use it. You see, she was violated recently in ways not unlike Maxwell Pullen explored with you. She was unable to fight back. She is in the dark room in order to revisit that experience and hopefully achieve a more favorable outcome. She wishes to regain the strength and self-respect she feels she lost. You can help her, Michael. And I believe she will help you. I’ve determined three hours should be ample time for this test.”
“You said thirty minutes.”
“I’ve adjusted.”
“I’m not gonna hurt her, Doctor,” Michael said, his voice muffled by the door.
Dr. Bart replied, “Mitchell would.”