Seeing Black

by Sidney Halston

  Rocco turned around to look at Jill, as the other man continued doing whatever it was he was doing on the computer. “Pardon?” Rocco asked.

  Jill stood confidently and walked up to the man. “You! You’re Josef.” Josef didn’t so much as flinch. He continued to work as if the conversation was not directed at him. When he didn’t speak, Jill poked him on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I’m talking to you.” Rocco reached for Jillian’s hand and pushed it down, as if warning her. The man looked at the spot where Jill’s finger had just poked and then down at Jill. His intensely menacing eyes made contact with hers. His eyes were cold and calculating. She felt as if she had just poked a shark, and she realized her error immediately. Trepidation rose up her spine, and she leaned away from him. Josef leaned forward, towards her. The moment was so tense she wasn’t sure if she was breathing. Time seemed to stop for a brief moment; she was pretty sure he was going to hurt her. Being in his presence stirred something in her that made her apprehensive. She should have left it alone. Instead, the man stuck his hand out in a cold, undetached way that made her immediately fearful. She felt he was threat, if ever there was one. Josef’s hand stayed unmoving in front of him. His thin lips closed, his green eyes unblinking and focused on hers. When Jill didn’t do a anything, Rocco intervened. “Jillian, darling, this is my half-brother, Josef Kraus. My mother had him later in life with her second husband. He’s your uncle.” Rocco nudged her forward slightly, and Jill reached her hand to Josef’s outstretched one.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” he replied coldly. He held her hand a moment longer than a customary. It wasn’t awkward. It was scary, intimidating. He had showed her she was a guppy swimming next to a shark by the brief meeting. He’d set her straight, and it was a meeting she’d not soon forget.

  She swallowed before she spoke again. “Um, er, yeah, um. You’ve been getting inside my head,” she said as she tapped her finger on her temple. She gave a nervous smile. Josef didn’t deny it. He said nothing. A moment of silence later, she said, “Not much of a talker, I see.” She giggled nervously. “Anyway, so, um, don’t do that, okay? I’m here. I want to get to know my father, and I promised I’d cooperate with your little test, but don’t threaten my friends again, please.” Josef still didn’t speak.

  “I have already explained things to my brother. Don’t you worry, dear. He’s not too keen on verbal communication. He rather keep to himself, but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”

  Jill and Josef’s eyes were locked in a stare. She doubted they’d ever get along, but she couldn’t pull away. This was not a man she wanted to have contact with again.

  “Alrighty then,” Jill said again, giggling nervously. “I guess I’ll go back and sit.”

  Neither man said a word, so she returned to the mat and sat.

  “Today we’re going to practice PRV.” Rocco came towards her and sat.

  “PRV?”

  “Yes. Right now, you have no control over your premonitions. They happen to you. What we want to do is be able to get you to cause them. Instead of them happening to you, you will make them happen to your advantage. It’s called Psychic Remote Viewing or PRV. You will focus on what you want to see, and, well, you will see it.”

  “Can you do this PRV thing?”

  “Not anymore, but I used to.” He grabbed Jill’s hand and helped her to the floor. “It takes a lot of concentration and focus, but once you are able to channel the energy, it will become second nature. You won’t even know you’re doing it.”

  She nodded. “How about him?” Jill looked behind her to Josef, who was still at the table on the far side of the room by the computer.

  “No, I’m afraid not. Neither of us can do it anymore. Our sight is gone due to our age—”

  “But he’s younger than you.” Rocco’s facial expression changed for a brief moment. He cleared his throat, and for the slightest second, she felt as if something was off. “You never know with these things. It’s parapsychology. There’s no real explanation other than it goes away over time. He just lost his sight prematurely.”

  “Hmm?” Jill replied. “Well, he still has that get-into-my-head thing, so he hasn’t lost all his powers.”

  “That he does, but it’s not as he used to. He was better at it before. He had the ability to move objects by just thinking about it.”

  “Telekinesis?”

  “Exactly,” Rocco replied. “But it’s all gone now. The only thing left is—”

  “His ability to mess with my head,” she deadpanned.

  “I already told you he will not do that again. I apologize.” Rocco took a deep breath and sat cross-legged next to her. Jill looked forward and positioned herself in the full lotus pose and took a deep calming breath.

  “You have excellent muscle memory. A few months ago, you could barely stay seated in a chair for more than five minutes, and now, you can sit like this for hours.” Jill just concentrated on her breathing.

  Rocco began again. “Okay, dear. I want you to look out the window and focus on the water. Look into it, past it. Continue with the deep breathing we’ve practiced. Today, we are going to just work on something very inane and simple. I think you’re ready. I want you to think about Remy. Visualize the way she looks.” Rocco continued using a monotone voice, not too loud, not too soft. No inflections. Just slow and steady. He sat beside Jill in the same pose but spoke toward the window. “She’s wearing her usual black knee-length skirt and crisp white shirt. Focus on the details. Think of her white orthopedic shoes, the crinkles around her eyes, her smile, and her Cajun accent. Can you see and hear her?” He waited and then repeated. “Jill, can you see her?”

  Jill didn’t speak for some time. She continued her steady breathing and focus. Her eyes felt heavy, but not from sleep. “I see her. She’s making something in the kitchen. Dinner, I think. It’s today. I can tell by the date on the calendar above the oven.” Jill whispered.

  “And what is she cooking?”

  Another moment passed.

  “I see her seasoning a rack of lamb, and I can smell the mango chutney.”

  “That’s wonderful, Jill. You did great, better than I thought you would. Smelling the food . . . Wow, that’s something that took me years to master. Good girl. You can st—”

  “Oh, no.” Jill sounded sad. “She cut her finger. Mr. Sampson is mending her finger. She’ll be fine. It’s just a little nip.”

  “Okay, Jill, you need to come back to me now. Listen to my voice and come back. We’re going for a swim. It’s going to be a great day. Come on.”

  “Her finger really throbs,” she says. She’s scared of not having dinner ready on time.”

  “Jill, listen to me.” Rocco’s tone was serious and stern. She could hear him somewhere in her subconscious. His voice was distant. She didn’t say anything for some time. Her eyes were hyper focused on the horizon. A flock of seagulls flew by, and the quick movement of the birds startled her out of her deep trance. She gasped. Rocco placed one of his hands on her shoulder.

  “You back with me, Jillian?” Rocco caressed her shoulder. “You did great, Jill. Tell me what you just saw. Can you remember?”

  Ever so slowly, Jill turned her head towards Rocco. “Remy is making rack of lamb tonight with a mango chutney glaze and fingerling rosemary potatoes. For dessert, she’s making pecan pie. She cut her finger, dicing one of the pecans, and Mr. Sampson helped her.”

  “Good. Now, I want you to stay away from the kitchen. You are not to go by the kitchen or speak to any of the staff. We’ll sit together at six in the main dining room for dinner and see if what you saw actually occurs. I don’t want you interfering with the future.”

  “Interfering?

  “Yes. Interfering. Suppose you mention in passing you like lamb. She’ll make it. If she makes lamb because you asked her to make it or she thinks you want her to make it, well, that would be you interfering. I need to see if it happens organically. Do not misunderstand me. You will, at the point that I de
em appropriate, learn how to manipulate the future and control your visions, but not yet. Today, we are just testing to see if you are capable of PRV.” Jill nodded.

  “Josef will be drawing some blood from you today, Jillian. Then you are free to go anywhere you wish so long as you are at the dinner table by six.”

  Jill’s heart fluttered. “I think I’ll go see Alexander?”

  “Of course, dear.” Jill let out a little squeal. Rocco gave Josef a nod, indicating that he could proceed. Jill walked towards him. As Josef took Jill’s arm, Jill noticed some small bruising along the inside of her elbow. Strange. Josef drew vile after vile of blood until she felt lightheaded. She didn’t mention it because she was so giddy about seeing Alexander. She didn’t care about anything else. Why did she miss him so much? She had seen him yesterday at the mock trials. Granted they hadn’t spoken to each other because she had still been angry, but she had seen him, and she wanted to see him today.

  While the doctor finished up, she contemplated something Rocco had said when they were meditating earlier. He said that her ability to sit still in the yoga poses had vastly improved from months ago.

  “Rocco?”

  “He’s in his study.”

  “I’m just a little confused.”

  Josef rolled his eyes. He looked exasperated. “I know.”

  “You know I’m confused?” Jill asked, but Josef didn’t answer. “How long have I been here?”

  Josef didn’t say anything. Jill’s heart began to pound. This was the reason she knew where everything in the mansion was, the reason she had track marks in her arm, the reason she knew the staff, and the reason she was so advanced at Psychic Remote Viewing and her meditation positions. She paled at the realization that she hadn’t just arrived!

  “Do not faint.” Josef scolded.

  “Josef. How long have I been here?” she asked slowly, but he still didn’t answer. She slammed her weak fist against the table. The computer shook, and Josef looked annoyed. “Tell me now! So help me God, I’ll scream.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Josef, tell me!”

  In that moment, Rocco came into the room.

  “How long have I been here!” She yelled at Rocco.

  “Since yesterday, dear.” Rocco replied, and she heard Josef snicker.

  “Liar! Tell me!” She jumped up, swaying a little before regaining her balance.

  “Calm down, Jillian,” Rocco said, as he took a few steps towards her. “You’ve been here almost six months.”

  “What? Six months!” Jill fought to catch her breath. She placed both hands on the side of the chair in front of her. Her heart started to beat faster and faster and sweat began to trickle down her spine. Panic set in. Six months? How was that even possible? How could she not remember one single thing?

  “Oh my God! How is that even possible?”

  “You wanted to get to know your father better.” Josef smirked. Rocco gave him a stern look.

  “I, uh, even if that is true, I still can’t . . . What about school, Xander, Oliver? Do they know . . .? Am I . . .? Oh my God.” She was about to hyperventilate.

  Josef, methodically, clinically, began to speak. His voice was completely devoid of emotion and held the hint of annoyance. “Listen. You need to breathe in and out. We’ve explained this to you. You chose this. You wanted to get to know your father and learn from him. You agreed to allow us to do some tests.”

  Jill pushed the chair, its legs scratching harshly against the floor. “One blood test! One time. That’s all I agreed to, not to be held here for half a fucking year! You can’t keep me here! I’ll call the police!” She ran towards the door.

  “You must calm down.” Rocco caught her by the arm and pulled her closer. He placed both hands on her shoulders. “Relax. You’re safe.”

  “No. You’re holding me captive? What? Are you drugging me? Why can’t I remember anything?”

  “No. No.” Rocco chuckled and lightly squeezed Jill’s shoulder. “Calm down. You are free to leave at any point. Would you like my driver to take you somewhere?” Relieved, Jill accepted his offer; she was also much calmer than she had been a few minutes ago. “Come on, I’ll walk you out. Before you leave, may I show you the garden? You’ve been waiting for the flowers to bloom for months. I made it in memory of your mother. I loved her so much.”

  Rocco placed Jill’s hand on his forearm and led her downstairs by a different route from the one she had used when she entered. They walked out the room, using a door in the back that led to the outside by the Gulf. There was another grand staircase lined with fichus trees in ornate cobalt blue pots, instead of rails. The cold house transformed into a Mediterranean haven.

  “Your home is so beautiful, Rocco, especially your garden. Those orchards are lovely.” Jill said, releasing Rocco and walking toward a tall flowery tree. She plucked a flower from one of the trees and smelled. “Mmm. They should bottle this smell.”

  “You always say that, dear.”

  “I’ve been here before?” Fear began to envelop her again. It was moving up from her toes to her thighs and making its way to her chest. Her heart was about to go into overdrive again.

  Rocco placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “You love this flower. It’s your favorite, and it was also your mother’s favorite.”

  “Tell me some more about her, Rocco.” The panic began to dissipate.

  “Well, I built Wonderland the year I met her.”

  “Wonderland?”

  “Just a little nickname Josef and I made up.”

  “Why Wonderland?”

  Rocco looked at Jill, strangely, almost nefariously. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s because of all the gardens. Kind of reminds me of the scene in Alice in Wonderland with the Queen of Hearts and the maze.”

  “But with a big blue ocean and horses roaming wild.”

  Rocco laughed. “Yes, except for that.”

  Jill strolled to the tree in bloom and plucked yet another fragrant flower, taking in its fragrance, and placed it in her hair. She wandered quietly around to the back of Wonderland. She then sat with her feet hanging over the seawall for some time, breathing in the salty air. She leaned back on her elbows, taking in the heat of the sun enveloping her. Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of galloping. Jill turned to see one of the ranch hands on a brown quarter horse, probably exercising it. She stood and walked towards the stable.

  “Getting a little dark out, Jillian. Shouldn’t you go inside for dinner?” Colton, one of the ranch hands asked.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re probably right, Colt. Where’s Rocco,” she asked as she turned and looked left and right.

  “Probably inside, working.”

  “Inside? How long have I been here? What time is it?”

  “It’s 5:00 p.m., ma’am.”

  “What? How could . . .? That can’t be right.” Jill roughly grabbed Colton’s hand and twisted his wrist so that she could see his watch.

  “Holy shit!” She covered her mouth. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.”

  Colton smiled. “No worries, ma’am.” Colton was about six foot tall and probably in his mid-thirties. He had dark brown eyes, almost black, a deep tan from years of tending to the stables, and a strong face. He wore a black Stetson, faded blue jeans, black cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt. A typical Texas cowboy. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern set in his fading smile.

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I’m a little confused. In fact, have we met before? Why do I know your name?”

  Colton laughed. “Of course we’ve met, Ms. Jillian. I taught you how to ride Oreo.” He pointed to the most magnificent horse she’d ever seen. Black with white spots, it looked as if someone had thrown a bucket of white paint over him.

  “Wow.” She gasped. “He’s beautiful. May I touch him?”

  Colton tipped his hat in a gesture suggesting she follow him. “It’s your horse, ma’am.”

  “It is?” She was in awe. Flies would soon make a home in her mouth i
f she didn’t close her jaw shut.

  “Ms. Jill, I think you should go inside and have some dinner or something. You’re acting awfully strange today. I haven’t seen you like this in weeks. Maybe I should call your father and let him—”

  “No. That’s okay. I’m going in for supper anyway.”

  Colton tipped his hat and turned towards Oreo. Jillian heard him cooing and whispering something to the horse, as she walked away to meet Rocco for supper.

  Chapter 8

  It is true that liberty is precious; so precious that it must be carefully rationed.

  -Vladimir Lenin

  Next morning, a week, or a month later . . .

  Jillian opened her eyes and stretched her arms up to the ceiling. She woke up refreshed. Well rested. Ready to start the day. She sat up and took in her surroundings. Huh? She was slightly disoriented. Yesterday, she and Rocco had a lovely dinner. They’d gotten to know each other, and she had been about to leave, but . . .?

  But what happened? Something was off. She stood from the bed and walked towards the bedroom door. She glanced at herself in the mirror by the bedroom door. “What the hell?” she whispered as she tugged on the white linen pajama pants and matching top. There were matching slippers in her size by the door. “I look like a reject from a Ralph Lauren catalog,” she whispered.” It was a big change from the camisole and panties she normally wore. Her red hair hung loose and very long. I need a haircut. Her eyes were brilliant. She felt rested. Now, if she could just remember something about it.

  She opened the door and went downstairs, making her way towards the kitchen. What was odd was that she walked as if she knew where everything was, as if this were not the first time she’d woken up in this house or walked to the kitchen. It was a strange kind of déjà vu.

  “Hi, darling. Pancakes?” an elderly woman asked, while flipping pancakes.

  “Er, yeah. Sure,” Jill replied, baffled. “Do I . . .? Do I know you?”

  “We play this game every morning, my lovely. Go sit. I’m making you your favorite.”