Dr. Frey's Opinion

I didn't feel comfortable letting Lunagirl out of my sight after that incident, so against her wishes I kept her inside. She begged me with her adorable meows to let her back, but I knew, just knew, that the second time that thing wouldn't be lenient.

I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Frey and asked for a meeting as soon as possible. He had an opening on the following Wednesday, and so I went. In place of a bowl of cherries there was a small tray of cute colored macarons. I helped myself to, well, all of them (much to my shame; other people would have wanted those) as I waited.

The door to his office gently opened and he beckoned me inside. I practically bowled him over to get to the chair. Dr. Frey said, "Elizabeth, good Lord...what's the matter?"

I settled into the chair, gripping the smooth arms as I worded myself as best I could. Would he, too, think that I was nuts? I had to give it a shot, and I did.

He let me speak, listening intently the entire time and wrote down notes. When I had finished, he took off his glasses, folded them neatly and looked at me, "Elizabeth, listen to me. When you saw this Fear Dubh in that blizzard, you were cold, shaking, the snow obstructing your vision."

"But I know what I saw, Doctor," I pleaded, "it tried to go after my Luna! It's real. Please, please believe me. This thing is real and it killed Catherine."

Dr. Frey frowned, then sat back in his chair and nodded, "I don't know what to say, Elizabeth. Either her illness is spreading or, most unlikely, this creature is real. But let's go back further. Before the blizzard, did you see it then?"

"No, I haven't. But I did get...listen to this. I woke up one morning in December to find that someone had ripped a page out of Catherine's diary and taped it to the front door."

That caught his attention. He leaned forward, "Come again?"

I, too, leaned in, "Someone found Catherine's diary, something she took with her, ripped out the page that detailed her proposing to me, and left it on the front door. I still have it."

"Then tell the police as soon as possible. Why didn't you tell them then?"

That was a good question, but a part of me had a reason: it was a piece of Catherine that I held near and dear to my heart, and by giving it to the police, I would have to give it up. Later that day I did tell the police about my finding, much to their displeasure. They admonished me about not telling them sooner, but days later came back to me and said they could find nothing of use from it. No fingerprints, no markings, nothing. It was as if it just teleported there from nothing.

The rest of the session was unremarkable. He penciled me in for another session soon, and this time he would do a simple test, a similar one he did with Catherine.

Reactions

Something wasn't right about that call. It didn't sit right with me or anyone else who knew her. For the most part I was still in a state of shock, moving around like I was half-dead and having sleep avoiding me like the plague. It couldn't have been anyone else on that phone except for her, so I ruled out an imposter. I know Catherine's voice by heart; that was defininely her breaking it off with me. Saying I was heartbroken was the biggest understatement of the goddamn century.

Her parents were beyond devastated, nothing in the world could comfort them. Abigail and Christian, people I loved as if they were my own parents, hired anyone they could think of to assist in finding Catherine. The psychics they had help them frantically abandoned ship after doing a thorough reading, leaving so quickly and their faces pale and full of unimaginable fear. They called at a later date telling them something evil was out there, but then never elaborating. It got so bad that I felt a full on mental breakdown coming to claim us all.

"She left of her own accord, that's true," Naomi said one day, rubbing my back as I cried over a cup of tea. "but I can't fathom the reasoning behind it. Some things just don't add up. I believe you when you say she called, we all do. But something isn't right."

"I know," I sobbed. "I know! And nothing makes sense! It just came out of nowhere, Mi! I asked her questions and--and she sounded so cold. I begged, I pleaded..." I paused to sniffle, "it was a nightmare."

She nodded, "The police can't track the cell, so maybe she destroyed it after she called you. I'm not sure." I could see on Naomi's face that she was trying to find the right words to ease me. With her vast vocabulary and keen intuition, she typically did. But this time, nothing would come to her."Oh, Ellie. It must be so hard right now. I'm just so sorry."

Florence let out an angered huff, "I'm going to bet that someone put a gun to her head and forced her to read a script.  She didn't want to leave, but was forced to. We know Catherine far too well to think that this is normal. But maybe....just maybe, she had to take her fight somewhere else. I don't know." Behind her demeanor, I could see frustration and anger at not knowing building inside. Florence was one who loved having answers for people, to contribute to the conversation, so when a topic would come up in which she didn't have any sort of comment on, it would dampen her usually fiery spirit.

"Somehow, I get the feeling that there is more to this than meets the eye. There might have been something else that she wasn't telling us, or maybe she herself didn't know about. Why would she call you up to say those cruel things? I just can't imagine..." Rebecca's voice trailed off, directing her attention to the uneaten sponge cake on her plate. To her, there was nothing that couldn't be broken down logically. Except for this instance.

And Vivian, who had been listening and restlessly tapping her fingers against the table surface said, "I'm going to second everyone else's statement, Liz. I mean, unless she's going to call back hopefully soon and clear up any doubts, I don't know what to say." she chucked her soda can into the garbage, completely defeated by this scenario. "This sucks more than anything that has every sucked before."

It got a little chuckle from us, though it was one of agreement than one of mirth. They were trying so hard to find answers that would work, that would explain things, to ease not only me but themselves. Find some method in the madness. It was fruiltless.

I would have to call everyone on the guest list to tell them that the wedding was off and cancel the reservation at the modest hall we reserved. I would need to call off all of the plans we had made and focus on trying to find her. Once we track down where she is, I thought, then I can finally ask her all these questions, and I can get answers. That is what will happen. Don't give up hope. Don't. Give. Up. Hope.

When I was at the police station, I heard Officer Tammet once say, when she thought that I was out of eartshot, "You know, what this sounds like is that this mentally ill girl couldn't handle the stress of a wedding and marriage, so she just up and left. Shit, it sucks, but I bet that Rosenthal girl can do better. I wouldn't want to be dragged down by all that, and neither should she."

I wanted to slap her so hard. Catherine never had a history of mental illness until recently. Even then, it wasn't her fault. To make things worse, another police woman said, "Yeah, to me we should stop looking for her. It's pretty clear now that the girl wasn't in her right mind. Best to just move on and see if there are people we can actually help and not waste any more time."

If I had the ability to kill with a single look those two would have been gone. I just couldn't believe how casual they treated this subject, even when they believed that I couldn't hear them! Disgusted, I walked out of the station to my car and was nearly about to drive off when a horrible thought struck me: Kidnapped! She was must have been kidnapped!

Without stopping I raced back inside, nearly breathless as I said, "Please, please let me speak to someone.It's about my fiancee, yes. Listen, I think she might have been kidnapped. What do we do?"

I spoke to one of the troopers that were assigned to the case, and after I had finished expalining my thoughts, he said, "Yes, but this is a strange case, Miss Rosenthal. Any leads we find--which are not many, I have to be honest--just go straight to a dead end. Kidnapping might very well be a possibility, but have you looked into the option that she might have not wanted to get married? Or that there was someone else you didn't know about?"

I didn't even blink when I said that no, Catherine had desired for a marriage with me for a long time and that I had no idea if there was anyone else, but I doubted it. The trooper moisted his lips before continuing, "Dr. Frey has lent us the files on her, and it seemed that her mentall illness was getting worse. Auditory and visual hallucinations, paranoia, insomnia, bounts of amnesia, violent and bloody coughing fits...she had problems, Miss Rosenthal. It wasn't getting better. We will try to find her as best we can, but like I said, all clues lead to nowhere. And didn't she break it off with you, saying that you shouldn't try and find her? Maybe that's what she wants. Go home. If anything turns up, we will let you know, alright?"

He gave me a comforting pat on the shoulders and escorted me out of the bulding, which was very kind of him. I drove home, walked up to my room and cried.