22

My hands are close to shaking as I knock on Henrik's door.

I've made a highly successful livinghandingout advice to others. But this is where I turn to when I need help.

And I know I need help right now.

I woke up this morning with a pounding ache in my chest, as if I'd been punched in my sleep. I pulled down the collar of my t-shirt and saw a clean, white bandage covering asmallstretch of my chest. I rushed to the bathroom, pulled back the bandage, and saw it: a small, neatly stitched-up wound.

But the events of last night are a blur. Lost in the fog that's clouding my mind. The last thing that I remember clearly is seeing Ava at the restaurant.

A fragment of her face flashes across myvision;some part of a sick, twisted dream from last night's restless sleep. A dream in which I wrung out every last fraction of pleasure from Ava's perfect body and vowed to do it again and again and again.

I shake the vision from my mind.

What happened last night? What did I do? And why can't I remember it?

The old mahogany door swings openandHenrik greets me. His smile drops as he takes in my expression.

"Jackson, what's the matter?"

I glance along his manicured, old-money suburban street. "Not here."

I follow him into his lavish, old-fashioned living roombutneither of us takes a seat.

"I woke up this morning with a wound in my chest that I don't remember getting. Something strange has been happening to me, Henrik. I don't remember last night."

Henrik eyes me. "Has this happened before?"

I try to reach back into my memory. "I'm not sure. I've been feeling off for the last few weeks, but the memories aren't clear."

"Are you taking any substances that might be causing this?"

The sleeping pills I've been taking every night flash back into my mind, but I dismiss the thought.

"The only medication I've been taking is for my insomnia. I don't think those are responsible."

"But this isn't the first time your memory has played tricks on you. This could be connected to your past."

I nod. I confided in Henrik long ago about how the years before I leftmyfamily have been shrouded in a fog thatjustwon't lift.

All I remember is Dr Blackwood. I remember feelings of rage, sadism, and pain. I remember his hands on my body. But the details are a blur.

Henrik exhales. "I'm sorry, Jackson. This is beyond what I can help you with. Fugue states are a serious psychiatric issue.I'll schedule you an appointment with a trusted psychologist, a medical doctor, and the authoritiesif needed."

I feel my hackles riseandI take a step back. "No. No outside help."

"Why not?"

Because I'm afraid there's something lurking within me, within my past, that will ruin everything I've built from nothing.

It's not just anger and lust. It's not those simple, oh-so-human emotions.

I'm increasingly afraid it's something else.

Bloodshed. Domination. Sadism.

But I've given my life to choosing goodness, and I can't face that there's something evil in my heart.

Slowly, Henrik nods. He can see the desperation in my face. "All right, Jackson.We'lljuststart with a conversation between us, thenwe'llreevaluate.Yes?"

He gestures for me to sit opposite him. His hand is steady, but I can see the flicker of fear in his eyes. I nod, taking a seat in one of his antique armchairs.

"It's possible that states of intense emotions are causing what you've described. Do you remember what was happening before this set in last night?"

Visions of Ava's face flood my mind. The very first time she came to my office, I felt it. Thepowerfultide rose within me. Something about her hit a nerve and dragged this ocean of darkness out of its hiding place.

"I was seeing a patient who left abruptly."

Henrik's gaze is knowing. He can always read me. "A woman?"

I nod in confession.

"Lust is a powerful thing, Jackson. It hasintense,chemical effects on the brain. If you know this woman is a problem for you, then I advise you to cut yourself from her immediately."

Oh no you fucking don't.

This time, the eclipse comes like a bullet to the head.It slams into me, andI feel my control faillike a short circuit.

Panic floods me as I stare into the face of the man who's been like a father to me, just for a second.

Then everything goes glistening, obsidian black.