The Unseen: Past Trauma

As I hadn't any meetings for the day, I decided not to go to the office. We packed up a few things to take to the hotel as we were moving in there until we could sell the house and purchase a new one. Miles made an appointment with the therapist. “We can go see her on our way to the hotel,” he said, putting his arms around me and holding me close. “How did I get so lucky?” I said as he kissed me. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I mean, how did I get so lucky to have a loving husband like you?” I said. “I don't know, maybe it's because you’re hot and rich,” he said, making me frown. “What did I say?” he asked. “Really, so you’re after my money?” I asked. He smiled as he said, “Just kidding babe. Besides, I did say you're hot, but all you heard was the ‘rich’ part. You’re so negative,” he said. “No, I'm not,” I said, annoyed.

“How’re you doing, Mrs. Estephan, have you been able to get much sleep?” The therapist asked. “I did for the past week, but then it happened again last night,” I replied. “Really, after a week? Are you sure you didn't forget to take the medicine last night?” she asked. “No, I took the medicine; Miles gave it to me,” I replied. “Were you, perhaps, stressed about anything?” she asked. “No, I haven't felt stressed since you upped the dose—at least not until last night,” I replied. “What's happening with you is weird, Mrs. Estephan; I have done this job for over a decade, but I have never come across a patient such as you,” the therapist said. “What does that mean; what are you insinuating?” I asked. “No, Mrs. Estephan, I'm not insinuating anything; just stating a fact,” she replied. “And the fact being what exactly?” I asked. “The fact is, I'm puzzled as to why the medicine works for a short while and then stops. I haven't had this happen to my patients as long as they took the medicine regularly,” she said. “So, what do I do? I already put the house for sale and we are moving into a hotel until we find something suitable,” I said. “Well, if you think it helps, then you should try it,” she said. As we were leaving the doctor's, I held Miles's hand. He put his arm around and said, “Don't worry, I'm sure things will get better.”

I felt safer being away from that house as I suspected the house to be haunted. The doctor gave me a new set of meds to take in case the change of venue didn't help. I didn't take any medicine as I was in a new place and believed the troubles to be over. 

It was wishful thinking, though, as the ghost from my house had followed me to the hotel. I was petrified as I lay in the darkness, fearing for my life until Miles put the light on. “No, not again. I told you to take the medicine, didn't I?” he said, putting his arms around me. “What do I do, Giada? I feel so helpless watching you go through this misery day after day,” Miles said, holding me tight. “I don't know, Miles. I'm so tired of all this; I'm not sure if it will ever end,” I said. “Well it's clear now that the house has nothing to do with this issue,” Miles said. “Yes, you're right; the house isn't the issue, it's me,” I said. “What do you mean?” Miles asked. “I think I'm having a nervous breakdown,” I replied. “What, why would you even say that?” he asked. “Because my mother had a nervous breakdown,” I said. “What, when was that?” he asked. “When I was in college. My father left her right after I left for college. She was already sad when I left, so when Dad moved out, it was the last straw; she got depressed and committed suicide right after,” I replied. “Why didn't I know this?” he asked. “You did; I told you—you even came for the funeral with Jonathan,” I replied. “Oh, I remember the funeral, but I'm sure you didn't tell me about her depression and nervous breakdown,” he said. “I remember saying it. Maybe I only told Jonathan,” I said.

At work, I wondered if I was really having a nervous breakdown or if a ghost was playing havoc with me. ‘Maybe I should try an alternative method?” I said to myself, remembering my grandmother who used to talk about the evil in the shadows. ‘I can't ask her about it; she’s dead; but maybe I could find someone who could help me,’ I thought as I dialled Aunt Claire's number. “Hello,” came her voice on the phone, reminding me of my childhood, when she used to come to visit me with presents and read stories to me. “Hello, Aunt Claire, it's me, Giada,” I said. “Oh, hello, sweetie; it's nice to hear your voice,” she said. I asked her about what Nana used to say and she asked me, “Why are you interested in that stuff now?”

I then related my problem to her. “I don't know about the truth of all the stories, but your grandmother insisted that there was truth to it,” she said. Is there anyone you know that can help me?” I asked desperately. “Well, there is a daughter of a friend of Mom who deals in witchcraft. I'll check for her number and text you,” she said. “Thanks, Aunt Claire; I owe you one,” I said.

Around an hour later, my phone beeped. It was Aunt Claire; she had sent me the number of the lady, as promised. I called her and scheduled an appointment. I decided to go alone to meet her as Miles was usually skeptical about this sort of thing. I'm not a believer, either, but I'm desperate to try anything, even if I don't believe in it. I drove over to the woman's office, which was really part of her house. It looked spooky, with all sorts of paraphernalia hanging on the walls and laying on of tables. I could swear I saw a wind chime made of bones; human or not, I was not sure. She held my hand; ‘There is an evil presence around you,’ she said. I asked if she could come to my house and perform whatever ceremony she would. She agreed and came with me, carrying a big bag of items. 

At the house, she laid her hand on my bed and the walls and said that there was something evil in the house. She promised to rid the house and my surroundings of it. She lit a lamp she had brought with her, after which she performed a ritual and sprinkled some blessed solution around the room. She then gave me a chant and asked me to recite it before going to bed every night for a week. She promised me that as long as I recite the spell, I would be safe. ‘Well, I tried everything else, so why not?’ I said to myself as I paid her and said goodbye.

My phone rang while I was sitting near the pool and having a glass of wine. “Where are you, Giada?” asked Miles, sounding worried. I realised that I had lost touch of time and forgotten to inform him of my whereabouts. “What, you’re home? But then what am I doing in the hotel?” he yelled.

Miles rushed over with the things, shouting at me for wandering off without informing him. “What are you so worked up for? I came home, I didn't go out with another man,” I said. “Do you know how worried I was when you didn't come back to the hotel, and when I called you to find out where you were and you didn't pick up? I called the office and they said you left hours ago, and now you are here, sitting by the pool, sipping wine,” he said “What did you think happened? Did you think I committed suicide like my mother?” I asked. “I wasn't sure what to think,” he said, hugging me. “I'm sorry, I'll explain everything,” I said. 

“Really, you got some nut job to perform witchcraft in our house? I never thought you would be so naïve,” he said while holding his head. “I'm desperate, I'll hire a voodoo practitioner or make a deal with the devil if I have to,” I said. “I get it, I guess it wouldn't have hurt to try,” he said.

We decided to spend the night at home to see if the witchcraft would work. After doing exactly as I was asked to do, we went to sleep, hoping it was the end of all my troubles, but I was wrong. The shadow appeared as usual. After a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, Miles put his arms around me and asked. “Are you asleep?” he asked. “No,” I whispered in his ear, trembling in fear as the light came on. “What happened, did you have the nightmare again?” he asked. “Yes,” I said as I held on to him. “Okay, this isn't working; none of this is. Maybe we should talk to the therapist about your mother's condition,” Miles said. “Why, do you think I'm imagining all this?” I asked. “No, but mental issues can be genetic, so maybe it's best to check it out,” he said. “No, I'm not crazy, and I'm not imagining it,” I said. “I didn't say you are, but weren't you the one who said you’re desperate enough to try anything?” he asked. He was right.

Miles made a last-minute appointment with the therapist. We went to see her, determined to end this once and for all—even if it meant disclosing my mother's illness, which I managed to keep out of our discussions for so long. She was surprised to hear about the witchcraft but said, “No judgement here; I would have done the same put in your shoes.”

I explained about my mother's condition and her suicide. “Well, now I get it. I guess we were not treating the root cause of your problem, but now that I have all the details, I can,” she said, giving me a glimmer of hope. She prescribed me a new set of medicine and asked me to throw away the previous drugs. Excited at the prospect of being able to get this issue out of the way, we drove home happily. That night, I went to sleep surer than ever of being able to conquer my fears and get a good night's sleep. I felt my eyes get heavy as I drifted off.

I was awakened again as usual by the shadow. “Why?” I asked myself, realising that nothing but death could help me get out of this predicament. I guess I realised why my mother committed suicide? ‘Maybe she went through the same issues as me and couldn't take the torment anymore?’ I said to myself as I lay in bed, hoping for Miles to wake up and put the light on or just hold me. Unfortunately, he didn't wake up.