Fifteen minutes into the therapy session had passed in silence. Bette’s intent gaze was locked on her new psychotherapist while her mouth remained shut despite the therapist’s attempts of encouraging her to speak.

Prior to entering the counseling therapy center Bette had convinced herself with Kit’s support to keep an open mind, although she had been sure it would be hard for her to talk in front of a complete stranger. She hadn’t imagined that it would actually be this hard. As soon as Bette had walked into the therapist’s office she felt a strong fortress of self-defense building up around her. The moment she had taken a seat on the couch she realized things were going to be different here. All of a sudden she had been met with this new and unfamiliar guide smiling warmly at her. Or was it even warmly? The grin on the man’s face seemed glued to his chiseled face and therefore caused him to look disingenuous for Bette’s liking. The fact that her therapist had turned out to be a man didn’t help matters. Bette couldn’t believe Kit would actually arrange a male therapist for her.

And then she was supposed to talk. Supposed to tell him everything about herself. Hell, she had never talked about herself like that with anyone, let alone with an absolute stranger smiling annoyingly at her. She had never let anyone in like that, ever. Not this stuff. How was she supposed to start? What was she going to say?

Bette kept staring at the man, wondering if her intense scrutiny would unsettle him as it usually would have happened to anyone else were they in his place. But more minutes passed and the man stayed well composed and unflustered, his smile still etched across his face.

”I heard therapy is confidential. Is it true?” Bette finally broke the silence.

”It is true,” Dr. Dan Foxworthy replied, then added after a brief pause, ”I like to tell my clients that therapy is kind of, ’What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ So, what happens in my office stays in my office.”

”Shouldn’t you report to the police if a client confesses to you of a crime?” Bette pried, her eyes narrowed a little.

Before she opened her eyes, Bette felt a mild throbbing pain in her head. Her mouth tasted of cotton balls that had been drenched in alcohol. Her eyes still closed, Bette contemplated the previous night’s events. After confronting Tina in their bedroom, Bette had grabbed a bottle of wine and had headed down the cliff stairs to the beach. She had sat on the cold sand and had drunk the wine alone while watching the majesty of the restless ocean.

Trying to ignore the discomfort, Bette opened her eyes and swung her legs off the couch, sitting up. She held her head in her hands, pressing her eyes into her cool palms. With a sigh she dropped her hands to dangle off her knees and looked around the study room slowly. There were soft brown curtains hanging over the windows, beige walls and nice plush white carpeting on the floor. The bookshelf behind the oak desk was over-crammed with books.

The door suddenly opened and Kit entered, carrying a tray. She made eye contact with Bette and approached. Carefully placing the tray down on the coffee table in front of Bette, Kit picked up the pot with a potholder and poured the thick brown liquid into the black ceramic mug. The woman then walked around the coffee table and sat down beside Bette on the couch.

”Eat,” Kit said. It was a command, however softly uttered.

Bette eyed the food on the tray for a moment. It was a nice looking breakfast in the form of an omelet and what seemed like an avocado salad with a cup of coffee and a doughnut. The sight and scent of the meal would be highly appealing to any well person, but to Bette it wasn’t as tempting somehow. Her mouth watered, but not in a good way.

Swallowing, Bette responded in a croaky voice, ”I’m not really hungry…”

Kit stared at her sister with a combination of exasperation and sadness. ”Please, Bette. You have to eat something.”

Swallowing the excessive saliva again, Bette decided she didn’t have any energy to argue with her sister right now. She picked up the fork and cut the omelet into a few squares. Her hand shook as she lifted the fork to her mouth. When the taste of the omelet coated her tongue, it suddenly triggered a gag reflex. Bette fought it and tried to breathe through her nose, swallowing the food quickly without much of chewing. With a sip of coffee she washed down the uncomfortable feeling.

”Tina?”

Opening her eyes slowly, Tina blinked against the wave of blurry vision and tried to focus on the hazy figure that was calling her. In the foggy light a face was floating above her, and as it resolved more clearly, Tina saw a pair of warm dark eyes gazing back at her lovingly and a peaceful expression that shone with a tender smile.

”Hi,” Tina whispered in a slight daze.

”Well, hello to you too,” Bette’s voice drawled – low, deep, sensual.

”What are you doing here?” Tina asked.

Bette’s hand reached out and brushed a lock of Tina’s blonde hair away from her forehead. The caress felt so tender, yet so intense, stinging Tina’s skin and dancing into the very fabric of her being.

”Coming back to you…” Bette responded in a gentle half-whisper.

”But I thought you were dead,” Tina uttered quietly, confused.

Bette’s hand kept caressing the side of Tina’s face. ”You thought right,” she said, her smile unfaltering and showing an absolute sense of serenity. ”I am dead.”

Leaning down slowly, she touched Tina’s lips with her own. The kiss was stealthy and delicate, the taste of cigarettes blended smoothly with the aftertaste of black bitter coffee on Bette’s lips. She inched away just a little bit, her face hovering close, her eyes the liquid black portals of mystery, staring right into Tina, right into her deepest desires. Boring right into Tina’s soul.

A mild gasp escaped Tina’s mouth as she felt Bette’s hand that suddenly turned cold crawling down her neck. The brunette’s freezing power enveloped her, and she felt her stomach sink like a rock. Kissing Tina’s mouth with unrestrained lust, Bette wrapped her hand around Tina’s neck and began to squeeze. She squeezed more and more, until Tina could no longer gasp for air.

The vision was getting hazy again while Tina choked on her own air. She twisted and turned, calling Bette’s name, but all her strained, agonized cries for help fell on deaf ears.

Bette didn’t hear her. It wasn’t even Bette anymore.

***

Tina woke up with a slight jerk and looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It read 5:06 am. She rubbed her tired eyes, trying to hold on the fleeting remnants of the dream that had aroused her from her sleep. Although it wasn’t just a simple dream, it was a nightmare that had created an unpleasant knot in her throat.

With her suitcase and her purse by her side Tina stood outside the front gate of the house where she had been brought to. The taxi had left her alone several minutes ago, and since then she had been trying to gather up her courage to press the call button on a small speaker box attached to the gate. She peered through the tall metal gate rails. Beyond the gate was a big, two-storied sprawling estate. It was highlighted by landscape lighting. Tina thought it looked very expensive, contemporary and secluded, also having a large front yard with beautiful gardens. For a minute she doubted that she had arrived at the right house. Pursing her lips, she concluded that she would never find out whether it was the right house if she didn’t press the intercom button, so she did exactly that and waited.

”Hello?” answered a deep male voice, startling Tina.

Frowning, the blonde stood still, bewildered.

”Hellooo?” the voice called out again.

”Um, hello,” Tina spoke into the intercom. ”I’m looking for Kit Porter. I’ve been given this address as a place where she lives. My name is Ti–” she broke off all of sudden, remembering about the rule of non-disclosure of her real name. But how else would she explain to this man who she was? She looked around cautiously, then said quietly, ”My name is Tina Kennard.”

”I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong address. Have a good night,” the man responded and disconnected.

”Fuck,” Tina ran a hand through her hair. Lifting up her sleeve, she read into the address written on her skin again. She then looked at the house number plaque and made certain for a second time that she had arrived at the correct location.

What the hell was she supposed to do now? She didn’t even have a phone to call a taxi to at least take her to some hotel to spend the night. Her face puckered as if she was going to cry. The situation she was finding herself in was utterly frustrating and made Tina feel really helpless. She honestly didn’t know what to do now, where to search for Kit, how to get in touch with Bette, where to go now. This was what she had been afraid of – that Kit wouldn’t even be there anymore. Bette had basically sent her into the unknown.

The moment Bette jerked into consciousness, her immediate urge was to groan, but all she could manage was a muted whimper since her mouth was bound shut with adhesive tape. She was also deprived of sight, a cloth bandage tightly fixed around her skull, covering her eyes. With her heart rattling against her ribs, Bette instantly attempted to reach over and take the bandage off, but failed, for her hands were tied behind her back. Her breath was coming ragged and irregular and she swallowed hard, willing herself to calm down.

She was in a car, probably in a backseat. The car was moving. Voices were speaking in low, hushed tones. Going rigid, Bette strained her ears and listened. She distinguished a male voice and a female voice having a conversation, but still was unable to make out what was being said. Soft, jazz music was playing in the background. The air in the car smelled like men’s cologne mixed with leather.

Carefully Bette leaned her head back against the headrest and winced. She had a splitting headache and generally her head felt sore. The foggy memory of getting blinded by headlights and the sound of footsteps before it all had gone blank bounced back into her mind.

Under the pressure of the car making a turn Bette’s body began sliding to the side on the seat and she steadied herself with her feet squeezing against the floor. The car rode just a few more seconds before it began to slow down a bit. There were a few more stops and starts, and Bette heard a gate being unlocked and swinging open, and what sounded like men’s voices in the distance. When the vehicle was brought to a final halt, Bette braced herself.

”She’s awake,” a female voice spoke out loud, sounding unfamiliar.

Bette then heard doors open, the driver and the front seat passenger getting out of the car before shutting the doors. Bette took an uneven breath. In a few moments her door was opened.

”Get out,” the male voice demanded. The voice also gave her no recollection of who might be the owner.

A hand grabbed Bette’s arm and began to haul her from the car, against which Bette put up no resistance. There was no use to fight now. She knew from the past that fighting against your capturer, having been a capturer herself, would get you nowhere, so she decided to go with the flow until the situation became clearer.