The haunted house. The words reverberate in Erik’s head as he stares at the old video frames. He hears himself explain to Eva the principles behind the process of hypnosis, how they always begin with group relaxation exercises before he moves on to hypnotise one or two individuals.
He watches himself pull up a chair and sit down in front of the semicircle, getting them to close their eyes and lean back. While their eyes are closed, he stands up, talking to them about relaxation; he moves behind them, observing the degree of relaxation in each of them individually. Their faces become softer, looser, less and less aware, more and more incapable of lies, secrets, defences. Erik stops behind Eva Blau and places a hand on her shoulder.
As he watches himself begin to hypnotise her, Erik’s stomach tingles. The younger Erik gently slips into a steep induction with hidden commands; he is so totally assured of his own skill, so pleasurably aware of his ability.
“You are ten years old, Eva,” he says. “You are ten years old. This is a good day. You are happy. Why are you happy?”
“Because the man is dancing and splashing in the puddles,” she says, her face moving almost imperceptibly.
“Who’s dancing?”
“Who?” she repeats. “Gene Kelly, Mummy says.”
“Oh, so you’re watching Singin’ in the Rain?”
She nods slowly.
“What happens?”
Eva closes her mouth and lowers her head. “My tummy is big,” she says almost inaudibly.
“Your tummy?”
“It’s huge,” she says, and the tears begin to flow.
“The haunted house,” whispers Jussi. “The haunted house.”
“Eva, listen to me,” Erik goes on. “You can hear everyone else in this room, but you must listen only to my voice. Pay no attention to what the others say, pay attention only to my voice.”
“All right.”
“Do you know why your tummy is big?” Erik asks.
“I want to go into the haunted house,” she whispers.
In his hospital office, Erik gets up off his chair, massages his neck, and rubs his eyes, aware that he is moving closer to his own inner rooms, closer to what has been packed away.
Looking at the flickering screen, he mutters, “Open the door.”
He hears himself counting down, immersing Eva more deeply in the hypnotic state. He explains that she will soon do as he says, without thinking, she will simply accept that his voice is leading her in the right direction. She shakes her head slightly and he continues counting backwards, letting the numbers fall.
The picture quality suddenly deteriorates; Eva looks up with cloudy eyes, moistens her lips, and whispers, “I can see them taking someone. They just come up and take someone.”
“Who’s taking someone?” Erik asks.
Her breathing becomes irregular. “A man with a ponytail.” She whimpers. “He’s hanging the little—”
The tape crackles and the picture disappears.
Erik fast-forwards to the end of the tape, but the picture does not return: half the tape is ruined, erased. He sits in front of the blank screen. He can see himself looking back out of the deep, dark reflection. He can see the face of the man he was then, together with his face as it is now, ten years older. He looks at the video, tape 14, and he looks at the rubber band and the piece of paper with the words ‘the haunted house’.