Secrets of the Wandervall Mansion

CHAPTER ONE: THERAPY SESSION

KATTRIN WANDERVALL'S POINT OF VIEW

Smoke filled my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I gasped for air and ducked down then crawled across the floorboards. My eyes stung and watered from the excessive smoke. I sniffed back tears, an action I immediately regretted when the stench of smoke and burning wood entered my lungs. I need to get out of here, alive.

“Help us. Save us. Don't run from us.” The ethereal voices begged.

I tried to shut them out, but their pleads filled my ears and echoed in my mind. I clamped my hands against my head and screamed as loud as I can, wishing to overpower their begging. But it wasn't enough. The voices overwhelmed me, and the fire grew bigger. The door only a few steps away, my freedom only an arm's reach away.

* * *

Sitting on the soft chair in my therapist's office had been more comfortable than I anticipated. It's my first time seeing a professional to talk with about the traumatising experience I had two years ago. I sunk further in the cushions like a terrified possum.

Dr. Claudia wrote something on her notebook while keeping her eyes on me as I squirmed around on the beige plush chair. Afterwards, she turned her attention at me. Adjusting her thin framed glasses, the therapist cleared her throat.

‘Good day, Miss Wandervall,’ she greeted with a sweet smile.

She has her dark brown hair tied to a tight bun and her dark skin glistened beautifully against the rays of the sun. She looked stunning in her white blouse and black pencil cut skirt that hugged her thighs tightly.

‘Good-good day to you too, Dr.’ I avoided her gaze and twiddled my fingers.

‘Gin Kattrin Wandervall. Such a nice name. Mind if I ask what you're here for?’ she asked.

I gulped. ‘Uhm. Doctor Alfred sent– Doctor Alf– I mean, he uhm. Doctor Alfred sent me here. Rem-remember?’ My eyes darted from the potted succulent on the shelf down to the soft brown linoleum floor. ‘For-for my therapy– therapy session. About the uh, the auditory hallucinations that I– that I'm going through,’ I added.

‘Ah, of course. Doctor Alfred is such a remarkable doctor specialising in treating a lot of various mental illnesses and disturbances. Anyway, does your family have any history on auditory hallucinations or any kind of hallucinations?’

I looked down on my white rubber shoes, gripping the sides of the chair hard at the same time, I shook my head.

‘No, no. I-I mean my Dad, he would, he would often talk to himself, uh, to himself while he's marking quiz papers but he says that its, that it's all stress related.’

‘I see,’ Doctor Claudia said and I heard the sound of a pen scribbling over a piece of paper. ‘How about substance abuse? Alcohol, drugs. None?’

I shook my head again. I still kept my head down. I sulked further into the cushions. I wished I could just disappear right this moment.

‘My uh, my Mum and Dad would drink, would drink wine during special occasions. But I never did, I never, uh, I never liked the way that, that it tastes.’