The Vigilante by Ramona Forrest

the hypnosis thing. I’ll find out things I never wanted to know. You know I will.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the disgusting boots.
    “Yes, you likely will, but not to worry, we do hypnosis quite often and it’s a very helpful tool. It could certainly make all the difference in your case. My associate, Dr. Herman Schoenfeld is familiar with your case now, and is an expert in hypnotherapy. If you’ll agree, I’d like him to do that therapy.”
    “Well—” Martha hesitated, fearful of what they would learn. “Are you sure all this is confidential?” she asked, her eyes on his, seeking an answer she could believe. Being a rather private person made this step all the more traumatic and she felt a heavy foreboding that something dreadful would be brought forth, something she deeply feared.
    “Of course it is, Martha, we want solutions for your problems, and today, with hypnosis, perhaps we may begin to understand the basic cause of your time lapses. Dr. Schoenfeld has joined us several times now. I believe we have a good chance to help you, especially if you’ll agree to undergo hypnotherapy. Many times, it’s the only method open to us.”
    “I know I must, and I’m frightened. I admit it.” Her tautly held body and white knuckled hands bore out her statement, but she fearfully nodded her head in consent.
    Dr. Carton picked up his cell and dialed. “It’s all set, Herman. We’ll begin today if you’re ready.”
    They waited expectantly until the man entered. Martha nodded to the small, unassuming Dr. Schoenfeld. His eyes, dark and warm, and his relaxed manner tended to instill trust in a wary patient. But then, what choice did she have if she wanted answers? Resignation filled her mind and, squaring her shoulders, she readied herself for the fearful unknown.
    They began. Dr. Shoenfeld’s voice, measured and soft, calmed her. After a time, Martha easily slipped into a hypnotic state. The doctor gently and slowly began the regression to her childhood, aiming for the lost year. From prior discussions, both doctors felt certain the hired man had abused Martha during the year she’d been in first grade. After careful questioning, he reached the correct point in her regression and asked her, “What do you see, Martha? Is anyone there with you?” Both doctors noted the paling of her features and the tenseness of her mouth.
    Martha, her voice, higher pitched and childlike, said, “I’m coming home from first grade. My daddy is out on the tractor, but the hired man is in the barn looking out at me.” Tears slipped down her cheeks and her body twisted.
    “Is the hired man, Pete Sykes, there, with you, Martha?”
    “Yes. He makes me come in the barn.” Her voice quavered. She shuddered violently. “Mommy’s in the house, but I can’t go to her. He said I have to stay with him.”
    “What is happening to you now, Martha? You can tell me, it’s all right. You are safe here and will not be hurt if you tell us what is happening.” Schoenfeld kept his voice low and firm.
    “No—no, I mustn’t tell. He said he will stick me with a pitch fork if I do. It’s real big with long, sharp, shiny things. It’s awful! He said he’ll hurt me real bad if I tell my mommy or daddy.”
    Drs. Carton and Schoenfeld listened to the voice of a small child emanating from Martha’s mouth. Dr. Schoenfeld, his voice soothing and calm, said, “No, Martha, Pete Sykes can’t hurt you. I won’t let that happen. Is he touching you? Is he touching you in private places?”
    “Yes—he’s poking into me down there!” She gestured at her pubic area. “It hurts me bad! Sometimes I bleed, but I can’t tell my mommy or daddy. They don’t believe me anymore. Oh please—don’t—don’t!”
    From then on, the Drs. Carton and Schoenfeld listened to evil, depraved, things they’d never wanted to hear told in the frightened, pain-filled voice of a small child in agony. Sweat broke out on Dr. Carton’s brow as he