Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

purse where the paper was carefully folded. She should have taken it to the police. But the thought of meeting Snead, or having him assigned to the case, frightened her more than a thousand creepy notes. This mythic Snead was gaining power in her mind. Soon he would be twelve feet tall, sprouting horns and breathing fire.
    The wooden box containing the ring was also in her purse, next to the note. She didn't like carrying it around, and its proximity filled her with worry. Yet she didn't want to leave the box at the house which seemed so easy to invade. And its proximity provided a perverse comfort, an anchor to an insubstantial past.
    "It's all real, Julia." Dr. Forrest continued. "And you know what else is real, don't you?"
    Julia nodded. "The bad people. The ritual. The abuse."
    "The memory lives in your body, doesn't it?"
    Her scars throbbed. A sharp pain raced between her legs.
    "They did it to you, didn't they?"
    Julia shrank back in her chair, tossed her hair from side to side.
    "Don't deny it, Julia. We've gone this far. You're ready to take the last step."
    "No," Julia moaned.
    "We can heal these new injuries. But the key is to beat this old one first. We have to bring it out. It's the only thing holding you back, the only thing keeping you from becoming the new Julia Stone."
    Silence. A truck passed on the road outside.
    "You know who left the note, don't you?" Dr. Forrest said, voice lower.
    The panic scrambled in from the corners of the room, on quick black legs. Why was Dr. Forrest doing this?
    "You know, Julia. Share with me."
    She didn't know. She twisted in her chair but had nowhere to run. Blind alleys in every direction, the nightmare edges of cliffs, the cold walls of deep cellars.
    "The same one who held the knife." Dr. Forrest rubbed Julia's fingers.
    "You—you said it was all in the past."
    Dr. Forrest leaned close, her voice smooth, as seductive as that of Eden's serpent. "But the past informs the present, Julia. We are who they have made us."
    Julia didn't understand, and her thoughts were racing too much to concentrate. The panic swirled, its black talons tickling paths across her skin. Why didn't Dr. Forrest help her?
    "It's coming," Julia gasped. "Can we do a relaxation?"
    "Soon, Julia. First, we need to approach this. We need to uncover the entire memory. Because part of it is still buried, and we can't go forward until we've completely exposed the past."
    Dr. Forrest's hand clasped Julia's, squeezing reassuringly. The doctor continued, her breath on Julia's cheek. "Don't hold it back, Julia. Or should I say, 'Jooolia'?"
    Julia tensed, her spine as brittle as chalk, her muscles aching.
    "Who held the knife, Julia?"
    The panic had its hands around her throat, constricting her windpipe. Blood pooled in her head, she felt faint and dizzy, but there was nowhere to fall.
    "Who did it, Julia?"
    "He did," she whispered.
    "He gave you away, didn't he? He betrayed you."
    Julia gave a frantic nod.
    "Say it, Julia."
    She wanted to tear her hair out, to rip her eyes from their sockets, to slice her flesh with sharp blades. Anything but to deal with this. Anything besides facing the most terrible Creep of all.
    " Say it , Julia," Dr. Forrest commanded, clamping Julia's hand so tightly that it hurt.
     Julia sought escape in the rooms of her head, scrambled for the attic. Dr. Forrest was inside the house with her, slowly climbing up the stairs. No locks could keep the doctor out.
    Just as no locks could keep out the truth.
    "SAY IT."
    "Daddy," she tried to say, though she didn't think any air passed over her larynx.
    "Say it, Julia. Bring him out. Don't protect him. You don't owe him any loyalty, not after what he did to you."
    "Daddy," she whispered.
    "He gave you away, didn't he, Julia? He's one of them. He loved them more than he loved you. He loved Satan more than he loved you."
    She had reached the mental attic, was cradled by its dusty corners. If only there were a window from which she could jump. Behind her came Dr. Forrest's footsteps on the stairs, and the soft, insistent voice.
    "Go back to that night, Julia."
    No. Not that night. Not ever again.
    "Go back."
    And she was suddenly years away, without hypnosis, without undergoing the slow countdown. As if yesterday and today were really not separate things. The rooms of the past resided in the same house as the rooms of the present, always only a door away.
    And Julia stood frozen in the doorway, four years old and scared.
    The bad people in