Melissa Ashwood. Therapy Session #?
The following audio log is a recording of one of Dr. [----] Carter's therapy sessions with a client, Ms. Ashwood. The tape is dated [--/--/--01], and is one of the few remaining tapes that gives us insight into the events leading up to [--- -------- --------.]
[The audio starts.]
"Welcome back, Ms. Ashwood. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm feeling fine, Doctor, thank you for asking."
"I'm glad to hear that. Our last meeting we were discussing your relationship with your daughter's father and how that affected you, your daughter and your lifestyle. Is there something else you would want to discuss about that topic?"
"Actually, I wanted to talk with you about my daughter. Me and Erin, you see... we've been drifting apart for some time now and..."
[Ms. Ashwood sighs.]
"I've noticed that lately her behavior has become even more distant.. And ever since this freakish incident at school happened, she's become even more closed-off. I'm afraid that I'm going to lose her completely."
"And since when, do you think, you began to 'drift apart'?"
"About when she was twelve years old... after we have moved out of that town in Wisconsin. As shy as she was back then, Erin became friends with this one girl there – they were practically inseparable."
[She chuckles softly.]
"But we had to move, unfortunately."
"I see. And can you tell me more about her recent behavior? How does it manifest itself?"
"She's avoiding me. She's already gone by the time I wake up, and I only hear her coming back when it's late at night. When I do manage to catch her, she gives me the cold shoulder. And yesterday I saw her hands were all covered in bandages! When I asked her about it she told me that she 'just fell from her board'! What if she's hurting herself, or someone is hurting her, and she's not telling me?!"
"Ms. Ashwood, I need you to take a deep breath and count to three."
"Yes.."
[She inhales deeply, and exhales shortly after.]
"Sorry for that, Doctor."
"No need to apologize, Ms. Ashwood, your emotions are completely understandable. Her behavior, especially if the bodily harm you described is self-inflicted, might be a response to a deep emotional distress that has recently occurred. Can you tell me about this 'incident at school' you mentioned earlier?"
"This is a small town, Doctor, you must have heard all about it yourself."
"What I heard were rumors. If you want to help your daughter, Ms. Ashwood, I need to hear the truth."
[Ms. Ashwood exhales deeply.]
"You're right. Erin, she.. she got into a fight with her friend."
"The same friend from the town in Wisconsin?"
"Yes. Hayley was– is her name. It was a very public fight, and very ugly."
"Did they fight physically?"
"The Principal told me that it was a very heated argument, with a lot of shouting, but there was no physical violence."
"And what was the argument about?"
"She accused Erin of abandoning her. But it wasn't Erin's fault, it's.. Oh my god..."
[Ms. Ashwood starts crying, but her sobs are muffled, most likely due to her covering her face.]
[There is a sound of a paper tissue being taken out.]
[Ms. Ashwood whispers 'Thank you', takes a moment to wipe away her tears.]
"She had always blamed me for leaving that town. But now.. she must truly hate me."
"Ms. Ashwood, I doubt that she 'truly' hates you. As I see, this issue stems from the lack of trust you have shown to your daughter before. I presume that you haven't told her your reasons for moving out? The true reasons."
"But... how could I?"
"You have told me."
"Yes, but... I don't want to hurt her."
"I will be frank with you, Ms. Ashwood. You have hurt her already, and you only keep hurting her further by hiding the truth from her. Erin, simply put, is doing the same. She doesn't know if she can trust you with what she's going through at the moment, she doesn't know whether she wants to trust you with that.
"If you want to shorten the distance that has grown between you, if you want Erin to trust you again, then you will need to be honest with her."
[There is a long pause.]
"I.. Thank you, Dr. Carter. I will think about what you've said today."
"You are always welcome, Ms. Ashwood. I simply advise you the course of action – whether or not to take it is up to you to decide. I only hope that the relationship between you and your daughter will mend."
"Thank you again, Dr. Carter. Same time next week?"
"Yes, Ms. Ashwood. See you next Sunday."
"Until then."
[The door clicks open, then shuts close, creaking all the while. The lock on the door clicks. Footsteps are getting closer to the audio recorder.]
[The audio ends.]
Oh Molly
Caroline would not go so far as to call herself, her husband... their daughter as wealthy.
They were decently within a higher class.
And how little that mattered.
So many years of work, of renown and prestige.
No ransom.
First rendered moot to their daughter's resentful barbs and finally cutting screams. That more than anyone cracked her own porcelain overcoat. The underneath had been no better. Completely bent, completely snapped and rotted through.
Hopeless.
The second. The kidnapping. Her audacious, intrepid career in the school paper. She wasn't-- Caroline was fairly certain this story had no deadline, no print attached.
No ransom.
Art forgers and operators of a bigger black market ring didn't want the money two former actors had to offer. Not the vehicles or the possible modes of transport out of a border.
What they wanted, neither adult and nor the police had.
Burn and destroy all evidence of their wrongdoing.
From the beginning there'd been no paying to their demand which they would in a heartbeat.
Caroline wrung the skirt, terribly creasing at the Dolly pink and white stripe pattern.
"Call, Mrs. Caroline Jones," and so went the tone. A terrible, intrusive buzz bringing to mind accusation and hostile, baiting questions.
Making the stride, forced her to let go of her beloved's hand.
"Easy does it now ma'am, you aren't in trouble. We just need some identifying and clarifying on yours' end" said the officer in a conciliatory, veneering tone. When truly, she had the distinct impression the men here wanted to eat her alive.
However she was somewhat wrong.
The psychologist and social worker were women.
Oh my goodness.
The latter, with greying platinum blond curls, a failing Marilyn figure, and a few too many chocolate bon-bons translated right onto her poor falling cheeks, stared much too coldly.
"Mrs. Jones, I am Detective Armond Barnes and well, without beating around it, let's start with Adam."
"I-- I couldn't tell you," she began nervously.
"Tell us much yes," Barnes agreed, "we've been getting that answer. You see, neither of the children are talking."
"Caroline," began the psychologist, "from what we've come to understand the relationship between yourself and your child, Molly," without realizing she put her hand to her own mouth uncertain whether what wanted to escape from her fractured, weary heart was a sob. "I realize this must be a terrible thing to go through but--"
"I don't know, there's nothing I can do, nothing at all. I-- if I could give those people what they want I don't care what I would. In an instant."
"And you may be our only recourse," the psychologist tried. "What we hope to do is perhaps continue from where your daughter left off."
"That I-- I understand. Not that I could offer anything."
"Well," Armond replied, "you could have more luck talking with Jocelyn Alvarez and the Moors. One is too hysterical to speak," and Caroline found her resolve, steeling sharply to the officer's tone.
"Poor choice of words."
"Quite," she said, the steel receding back behind delicate silk.
"But the Moors parents won't allow their son to talk. Not about the actual crime or their client, not any manner of lead or evidence or where all that could be filed away or stored."
"I wish I could answer, about Adam but I can't. She, Molly didn't tell me anything. She never discusses case details or articles-- she performs under the school's newspaper."
"I'm sorry the school?" Detective Barnes replied, sounding somewhat incredulous behind his composed professional demeanor. "Ma'am did they permit her actions? Sanction her work?"
"Not that I believe no. Not from the beginning in fact," she said, able to give a concrete answer. One out of still likely a million questions to come. "She broke a few rules, broke into the school but the punishment was lessened."
Which still brought her to tears sometimes.
Her punishment lessened, "taking into account our strained relationship. Her absent mother and father."
Then that explained the social worker's presence.
Caroline had done and would continue to do her best in ignoring the scratching of her notes on a pad.
"Okay then," Armond accepted, "with that information in mind her computer then would be the most likely place to access say, case notes? Timelines and theories for a given case?"
She nodded. "Yes I would suppose so. She never seemed--" that is her facial expressions never gave away any sort of tension over her space or her things-- "there was never an issue what I might have to move or look at."
"We'll have cybersecurity look at the device."
"Alright then, a few more questions," Armond decided then. "Then well, we'll turn things over to Miss Chaus."
"I will be right here Caroline," the psychologist assured.
"Yes, thank you," she allowed. Swallowing back the lump of dread burning at her throat. She didn't mean a word of it.
But for Molly, for Molly to be safe and in her absentee, inattentive mother's arms she could accept and humble herself to the critical barrage that was sure to come.
My Sweet Girl by Everett Elm
I remember the day my sweet girl was born. It was the start of spring and the air was warm and filling me with hope. I knew she would be born today. I traveled north for her delivery in a better hospital than the one in our area had. From the moment I saw her, I knew she was everything a mother could dream for. Her eyes twinkled and her skin was blushed.
When my sweet girl grew up, she only took all of my best qualities and was the sweetest soul I knew. I wanted to be her, she was enhancing and perfect to anyone who saw her. Her eyes still twinkled, maybe brighter from her charisma and intelligence, and her skin blushed to show her happiness and life.
As my sweet girl became a woman, she began to fade. The twinkle in her eyes dimmed and her blush faded to pale and whit. I knew she saw the reality of being a woman. I knew she entered he cruel world that I did when I was maturing. I wanted to hold her and tell her I knew this story and that everything would be okay. I wanted to help ease her pain and listen to every poor encounter she has ever faced. I wanted to make it all better for my sweet girl.