With unexpected trepidation, Laura mounts the stairs and makes her way back to Marlena’s bedroom. She pauses a moment, adjusting her green linen skirt and smoothing down the cream blouse. Then, taking a deep breath, she taps on the door a couple of times and then pushes it open.
“Marlena?” She peers into the room which has fallen silent. “Marlena, honey?”
“Over here.” Marlena’s voice sounds dully in the empty room. Laura advances into the room and sees her, where Roman had left her, swamped in his oversized navy pyjamas, with her arms wrapped around her knees.
Like the rest of the penthouse, the familiar has become strange in this bedroom that Grace tarnished. The familiar floral comforter has gone, replaced with rich gold satins. Marlena looks lost within a space that is no longer her home, but just another reminder of the hell she has endured.
“Roman’s gone out to spend some time with his family,” Laura perches on the edge of the bed. Marlena looks at her for a long moment and then looks away. Laura can sense the hostility from Marlena immediately and although on some level she expected it, she still experiences a jolt of surprise. Still, she ploughs on, knowing that she has to push through the walls Marlena is building at some point. That point might as well be now. “I thought it was time we talked about what’s going on with you.”
“I don’t want to talk Laura,” Marlena says wearily, brushing her hand over her face and pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. “Not now.”
“Why?” Laura coaches her tone into neutrality. “Why not now?”
“I’m tired,” Marlena picks at the edge of the comforter, avoiding Laura’s eyes. “I just want to sleep. If you could give me some more sedatives…”
“No,” Laura shakes her head firmly. “You’ve had enough now, Marlena. Enough sedatives. The only way you’re going to be able to get a really good night’s sleep is to work through these feelings you’re having.”
“No!” Marlena glares at Laura for a moment, her eyes feverishly bright. “Not today Laura. I’m not ready for it.”
“And when will you be ready for it?” Laura asks gently. Pulling her light sweater more securely around her shoulders, she adjusts herself so that she is more comfortable on the bed. “Marlena, it’s been weeks since it all happened. When will you be ready to start dealing with it?”
“I don’t know, but not today.” Marlena’s mouth pinches and her cheeks color as she stares back at her friend. “Just *not* today, okay Laura?” She throws back the comforter and slips out of bed. “I need to get some air.”
“No, it’s *not* okay,” Laura’s tone is suddenly shot with steel. Marlena can be evasive; putting on a front is almost as natural to her as breathing. But this is different; there is a different flavor to her defensiveness now. There is a brusqueness that Laura has never seen from Marlena. At least not since she last returned to Salem.
She slides off the edge of the bed and stands, the bed a golden barrier between the two of them. “You can keep putting this off Marlena, but you know as well as I know that you have to confront it at some point. You can’t pretend that this isn’t happening. Not this time. Because this is eating you up from the inside out. Anyone who has eyes in their head can see that.”
“Don’t pretend you know how I feel Laura,” Marlena snaps back angrily, her cheeks flushing as she points a crooked index finger at her friend. “You have no *idea* how I feel. I have done such terrible things I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. And the things that were done to me…” she trails off, swallowing dryly, as for a moment a hole opens up in her armour of anger. But just as quickly, the shutters come back down and with her left hand; she dashes away the tear that has trickled from her lashes to her cheek. “You have no right to dictate to me when I am ready to start dealing with everything that happened.”
“*You* asked *me* to come here Marlena.” Laura reminds her frostily. “*You* asked for my help and I dropped everything to come back to Salem to be here for you. I dropped my practice, my personal life and I came to help you. At the very least, you owe me an explanation as to why you won’t take that help now that I’m here.” When Marlena says nothing, she adds. “I didn’t just come to be your babysitter, Marlena. If that’s all I’m going to be, then I may as well go back to New York.”
She waits for a response from Marlena. When she doesn’t get one, she sighs heavily. “Marlena, you and I both know this isn’t going away. You must know that you’re suffering from PTSD and yes, You can medicate it away with sedatives, alcohol, sex… whatever your poison is; because that is the direction this will go in.” She watches as Marlena shifts uneasily from one foot to the other. Laura’s golden eyes soften as she watches the intense discomfort her friend is experiencing. She would spare Marlena this if she could. But she can’t. Not any longer. “Roman will watch you sink deeper and deeper into depression, your children will watch you suffer and you will be no good to any of them. If by some miracle, you manage to function, it will be simply that. Functioning. You’ll get through each day but you won’t be able to escape *you*.” She shakes her head sadly. “You won’t be able to submerge these feelings, at least not permanently. And one by one, you’ll drive all the people who love you away. Because how can you let them love you when you don’t think you deserve to be loved? Or helped?” Her tone softens as she sees the tears glistening in Marlena’s eyes. “I’ll tell you this once Marlena, and only once. I can help you and I *will* help you, because you *do* deserve it. You deserve my friendship and my help because you are a wonderful woman who has had the misfortune to have terrible things happen to you. And as someone who has also had terrible things happen to her, I want to help you like you have helped me.” She pauses for a beat, biting her lower lip for a moment. She’s not sure she’s making her point effectively enough. At least, she can’t see that Marlena is allowing herself to hear the words that are being said. “But Marlena, you have to let me do that. You have to help me help you.”
She waits again, waiting for Marlena to say something. Say anything. Laura so desperately wants to reach her friend. Wants to find the thing that will slip inside her defences and force her to accept the help that she so desperately needs. Because if Marlena doesn’t accept her help, this isn’t going to end well, for any of them.
And yet, there is still silence from Marlena. Still this unyielding stubbornness and, on some level, a refusal to accept that she is worthy of the love and caring that her family and friends would lavish on her, if only she would let them.
“Marlena-” Lara stops short in utter frustration. “Listen honey, I love you. I’d do anything to help you, you know that. But if you don’t let me, then I can’t stay here, just marking time. I have a life to lead, people who need my help.” She raises her eyebrows, signifying her seriousness. “If I can’t help you, then I won’t stick around. I’ll go back to New York where there are people who are asking for my help and who will appreciate it.”
When there is still no answer from Marlena, she simply shakes her head sadly and then turns to leave the room.
She’s halfway to the door when she hears the broken sob from Marlena. She stops where she is but doesn’t turn around. Marlena will have to ask for her help now. That’s the only way this is going to work. She can’t push Marlena any more. She can’t make her do anything. This has to be Marlena’s choice and she has to choose it because she wants it. Because she’s willing to open up and let Laura in to her innermost feelings and fears in order to heal.
She stares down at her apple green court shoes as she waits. After a heartbeat, or what feels like hours, her shoulders sag and she steps towards the door.
“Wait,” Marlena’s voice cracks as she speaks. “Laura, wait.” Laura stops again, waiting for the words she needs to hear. “I’m sorry, you’re right, of course you are.” Marlena’s voice is choked with tears, her misery almost drowning her words. “I’ve been selfish and ungrateful. And after you’ve come all this way because I asked you to.”
Laura slowly pivots on her right foot so that she’s looking across the room at Marlena. She says nothing. Marlena’s arms are wrapped around her upper body and tears are rolling down her cheeks. Laura’s chest hurts as she looks at her lost and lonely friend. She wants so badly to make this better for Marlena. If she could wave a magic wand and make all this go away, she would, in a heartbeat. But she can’t. They have to do the hard work together.
“I just don’t know where to start, Laura,” Marlena’s lips tremble as she tries to fight the tears. “I can’t look at Roman without seeing the past. Without seeing the things Grace did. I can’t look at the apartment without seeing her. I can’t see the family without wondering if they see Grace every time they look at me.” She is crying now, properly crying and she doesn’t even bother trying to wipe away the tears as they stream down her cheeks. “Laura, Grace ruined my career and she took all of our money; so I can’t even look to the future without seeing shadows of her there. What kind of a future do we have, when I can’t look at the past without wanting to just blank it all out? I just want to forget any of it ever happened and I can’t.”
“No, you can’t,” Laura agrees softly. “But we can put it into perspective and make it easier for you to understand what happened and to stop blaming yourself for all of it. We can put enough distance between you and what Grace did that it won’t feel this painful every time you think of the things that happened.”
“This painful?” Marlena’s choked laugh is loaded with irony and anguish. “Laura, I feel like I’m being *eviscerated* every time I *think* about the past. And every time is *all* the time.” Another sob comes unbidden from her and she lurches forward, supporting herself on the bed. Looking back up at Laura, her golden eyes are pleading. “I feel like I’m going out of my mind.” ”Well, if you’re thinking about it all the time, then let’s talk about it, now.” Laura walks purposefully back into the room. “Marlena, you’re a therapist. You know the theory. You know it works. And you know these feelings won’t go away, however long you try and stave it off.”
“Laura, the thought of talking about any of it makes me feel physically sick.” Marlena takes a deep breath, now swiping at the tears and rubbing the moisture onto the voluminous pyjamas. After a moment, she nods miserably. “And you’re right, sedatives, alcohol…. Right now any of it seems preferable to picking over the details.” Her eyes burn fiercely as she looks up at Laura. “The things I’ve seen, that I’ve done…. Laura, I can’t look in the mirror, so how are *you* going to be able to look at me?”
“I’m your friend, I love you.” Laura says simply. “I won’t pass judgement on you. I won’t think any less of you.” She pauses and then, “have I ever before?”
“No.” Marlena shakes her head. “No you haven’t.” Laura is right. After all the things that have happened, after the hell she’s put her friends and family through, Laura has never once turned her back on Marlena. She has always been there for her. She would trust Laura with her life. And she has to trust her now.
“Where do we start?” Marlena asks simply. Because she honestly has no clue where. But she knows Laura is right, she has to do this. For Roman, for her children, she has to be strong enough to face this and make it through to the other side. They are counting on her and she can’t let them down.
“You’re asking for my help then?” Laura asks pointedly. She wants to get this straight at the outset. It’s the only way this will work.
“Yes,” Marlena nods as she climbs back onto the bed, curling her knees up in front of her again. She takes a deep breath and then with a trembling voice she adds, “I’m asking for your help Laura. Please help me.”
“Good,” Laura kicks off her shoes and climbs onto the bed next to Marlena. “I’m here for as long as you need me.” She reaches out to take Marlena’s hand in hers. “As long as this takes, I’m in it with you, okay?”
Marlena takes a deep, shuddering breath in and then lets it out. “Okay,” she nods. She looks down at their entwined hands and then up at Laura, catching her eyes. She feels desperate, a sinking woman clutching onto anything to keep her afloat. But she knows Laura is the right person to help her. She knows that and she is so grateful to Laura for not quitting on her when she has every right to. “Thank you. For being such a dear friend. For not giving up on me.”
“I never will,” Laura smiles softly and squeezes Marlena’s hand. “That’s what friendship is, isn’t it?”
“It’s a shame you weren’t here when Grace was,” Marlena says ruefully. “I think she’d have had rather a harder time pulling the wool over your eyes than she did the rest of them.” She pulls her hand away from Laura and settles herself back against the headboard. Her knees are still doubled up in front of her chest, but her arms are looped more loosely around them now.
“Your friends and family?” Laura clarifies. “Your work colleagues?” Marlena nods silently. “And how do you feel about that? That they didn’t challenge Grace?”
“How could they have known?” Marlena shrugs indifferently but her words are unconvincing.
“How could they have failed to know *something* was wrong?” Laura asks reasonably. “I mean, let’s face it, from all accounts, Grace behaved *nothing* like you, honey.”
“Of course they knew something was *wrong*!” Marlena replies defensively. “But how can I expect them to have known what to do? She was manipulative, she was smart and she was ruthless. I’m *glad* they didn’t figure it out, or more of them might have ended up like Hope. Or worse.” She shudders, thinking of Lamont, the sound of his nose breaking, the stench of urine and the light fading from his eyes as she pulled the trigger. She takes a long, trembling breath as she considers anew what a monster Grace was and how she took such delight in hurting those that Marlena loves.
“Laura, how could she have been part of me and yet, done those things?” She looks down at her small, pale hands. She turns them over and studies her palms intently for a long moment. “That’s the thing I really can’t seem to get to grips with. She *killed*. She was a murderer. And I don’t understand how that came from me.” She looks up at Laura with haunted eyes, shadowed with dark smudges of grief. Her eyes plead with Laura an unspoken litany of entreaties, imploring her to give her some reason, any reason to explain away Grace’s horrific actions.
“We all harbour some darkness, Marlena,” Laura reminds her gently. “It’s human nature. However well we subjugate it in every day life, every one of us has the capacity to do violent, terrible things, if pushed to the edge. When it’s a fight for survival, you survive or you die, it’s that simple.”
“She wasn’t fighting to survive when she murdered Lamont,” Marlena refutes Laura’s supposition a little harshly. “She did it because she *wanted* to. Because on some level; in fact, on quite a number of levels; she enjoyed it.” She glares at Laura, almost daring her to disagree.
“But when Grace came into existence… when the rest of you shut down, Marlena; you were fighting for survival then.” Laura’s voice hardens proportionally to the importance of what she is saying. She needs Marlena to hear this and to understand it logically. If Laura can appeal to Marlena’s logical, professional side, it will temper the guilt she feels which is currently smothering every ounce of rationality she possesses. “When Stefano held you captive, when Orpheus raped you. *That* was the fight, right there. The fight for your life, for your sanity. You almost died and then you were violated in the most awful of ways…” she reaches out and takes Marlena’s hand again as her friend looks away, tears rolling down her cheeks once more.
“Tell me about that.” Laura prods gently. This is key. She needs to get Marlena to voice her feelings about being held by Stefano, about the events that led to Grace emerging as the strong personality that pulled her through that time. “Tell me what you remember of what happened during that time.”
“I can’t,” Marlena’s words come out in a hoarse whisper. “Laura, I just *can’t*.”
“Yes you can.” Laura keeps her voice schooled in as calm and soothing tone as all her professional years of training and experience have taught her is needed at this point. “It’s all in the past. It can’t hurt you now. It all happened years ago and all the pain is back there. All you’re doing is remembering. It has no power to hurt you now. Remember that.” She rubs her thumb across the back of Marlena’s hand. “You’re safe and I’m here with you. They can’t hurt you now.”
“It doesn’t feel like it was years ago,” Marlena uses her free hand to wipe the tears from her face. “It feels like it was yesterday.” She reaches over to the bedside table and pulls a tissue from the box. Dabbing at her nose, she sniffs. “The nightmares I keep having… I keep seeing Orpheus… I keep seeing him come for me. And then sometimes it becomes Lamont or Stefano, and sometimes it’s… sometimes it’s Roman…” a fresh wave of tears bubbles from her and she presses the back of her hand to her mouth.
“The nightmares are your subconscious talking to you. Telling you that you need to sort out your emotions,” Laura tells her, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. “You know that, right? They bear no relation to what’s happening in your life now.”
“I know,” Marlena wipes her eyes again. “I just… I woke from that dream this morning and Roman was there and I just… I was just…”
“Is that a problem?” Laura asks carefully. This is the more uncertain ground. Laura knows how to deal with the past. The present is another matter. “Are you…” She thinks how best to frame her question. “Are you scared of Roman?”
“Oh no!” Marlena looks shocked and shakes her head with utter certainty. “How could I be scared of Roman? He would never hurt me.”
“But he almost did, didn’t he?” Laura reminds her. She’s treading on dangerous ground, but they need to tackle this. And it’s an important point to make before they get back to talking about Grace. “Down in New Orleans, in that bedroom….” She sees Marlena’s shoulders tense and Marlena draws her hand away before Laura even knows what has happened. With a flash, she suddenly realizes Marlena doesn’t know that she knows what happened in that room. There had only been two people in that room and Marlena has no reason to know that Roman has told Laura what happened. “Roman told me Marlena. He felt I should know what happened when you were down there. To help me understand the sequence of events that led to Grace fracturing and your primary identity reasserting.”
Marlena says nothing for a moment, digesting what Laura is telling her. That Laura and Roman have talked. Have discussed the things that he did… that she did… And then, her voice stiff and oddly formal, she speaks again. “That wasn’t Roman,” she informs Laura tersely. “Roman was brainwashed and implanted with false memories by Stefano. Roman wasn’t responsible for anything he did as Stefano’s mercenary.”
“And yet *you* are responsible for everything Grace did?” Laura points out the flaw in her logic.
“*I* wasn’t brainwashed Laura,” Marlena’s voice hardens even more, the comforter bunching in her fist. “There was no microchip, no implanted memories or personality. Grace was my response to Stefano’s manipulations. Of course I am wholly responsible for what she did.” Her eyes flash defiantly as she stares at Laura. “She is *me*.”
“Oh tosh!” Laura rolls her eyes, refusing to be intimidated or affected by Marlena’s emotional outbursts. “Are you honestly trying to tell me with a straight face that what Stefano did to you while you were on that island wasn’t brainwashing?” When Marlena doesn’t answer, she continues in a tone of indignation. “Marlena, you underwent a systematic programme of emotional and physical abuse. What Stefano did to you is a *textbook* case of a brainwashing my dear, and the sooner you see that, the better.”
“I think you’re overstating that somewhat,” Marlena’s mouth has thinned to a line as she regards Laura. “Okay, so he manipulated me. He twisted the truth and made me believe I’d been abandoned. That’s hardly brainwashing.
Laura chews the inside of her lower lip for a moment. It shouldn’t be surprising that Marlena doesn’t see the reality of her captivity, even with this much distance. And yet, it does surprise Laura. Marlena’s a psychiatrist, and a damn good one. This should be glaringly obvious to her. But then again, Laura wasn’t the one inside the trauma, experiencing the manipulation, experiencing the storm of emotions. It’s far easier to see the truth of a situation from a privileged outsider’s view.
“All right, all right,” she nods slowly, thinking about how to use this knowledge. “Let’s try it this way. Let’s divorce the emotion from it if we can. Okay, tell me Marlena, if your case file came across your desk, if this was someone else and you were being asked for a psychiatric evaluation of the case, how would you frame it?”
Marlena looks at her blankly, like Laura’s question makes no sense to her. Just the idea of being asked to give her professional judgement, even if it’s only on her own case, is anathema to her right now. Given the havoc that Grace wreaked on her clients… it’s not something she wants to contemplate.
“Okay, let me start it then.” She offers Marlena a small smile and pats her hand as a gesture of reassurance. “Feel free to add to my notes whenever you feel you want to.” She takes a deep breath. “Right. The patient is a mature, professional woman. She is married with an adult family. The patient suffered a number of complex traumas prior to the period in question. These traumas included the death of her infant son, the death of her twin sister, sexual assault, repeated abductions and periods of captivity, the death of her husband and abduction of her children. Many of these traumas, including the death of her husband, can be directly attributed to a man that we will call Antagonist A. Two years subsequent to the death of her husband, she discovered that in fact that her husband was not dead, but had been physically altered and was suffering from retrograde amnesia. She integrated her husband back into her life at which point, she suffered a head injury which led to a coma but was followed by full recovery. Subsequently the patient was again abducted and held by a man that we will call Antagonist B.” Laura stops to take a breath and allow Marlena to digest. “You with me so far?”
Marlena simply nods. Laid out like that, her life looks like a complete train wreck. She’s not sure she likes what this implies about her.
“While being held captive by Antagonist B, the patient was involved in a plane crash and was presumed dead by her family. In fact, the patient woke after the accident to find herself in the company of Antagonist A, the man directly responsible for so many traumatic experiences. The patient claims to not remember anything of her identity at this point.”
“Claims!?” Marlena looks indignant. “I *didn’t* remember anything. I remembered how to eat and breathe and walk and talk, but that was about it.”
“This is ‘a patient’, remember?” Laura raises one eyebrow and lifts her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “No emotion, just facts. This is important Marlena. What’s your professional diagnosis of the patient’s memory loss?”
“Dissociative amnesia,” Marlena replies, almost without thinking. Her face colors as Laura smiles. “The patient is clearly suffering dissociative amnesia related to her prior traumas. Awaking to find herself face to face with the man that has threatened her and her family so many times, her primary personality has retreated as a form of self- protection.”
“Good,” Laura nods, settling herself back against the bed head and tucking her feet up under her so that she is half facing Marlena. “I agree totally. So, we have a patient who is primarily suffering from dissociative amnesia and finds herself injured and in captivity thanks to Antagonist A. This man, who could have assisted her to regain her memory, or even returned her to her family, instead chooses to lie to her and manipulate the truth using photographs and video of her husband and children with another woman. He also reveals that he is holding Antagonist B captive alongside the patient, increasing her feelings of vulnerability and fear.” Laura watches Marlena carefully throughout this monologue and is pleased to see that the anxiety that Marlena is exhibiting is not spiralling out of control. “Despite, or maybe because of the fact that the patient is experiencing fragments of returning memory, Antagonist A deliberately fosters her feelings of insecurity and abandonment and sets himself up as a figure of security and protection.”
Laura waits for a moment in order that Marlena processes what she is saying. Marlena, for her part, stares down at her hands as she fidgets with the corded edge of the comforter.
“It’s reasonable to assume,” Laura continues, “that since the patient was being attended by doctors that she was being given daily doses of unspecified medications without being informed as to what those medications were.”
This time, Marlena nods without even waiting for Laura’s prompting. And then, for the first time, she picks up Laura’s thread of reasoning and begins to pick out some logic of her own.
Because, although her initial reaction had been to shy away from psychiatric evaluation of her situation, she has to admit Laura has a point. It is far easier to apply reason and logic to her case if she pretends it is not her case. And her professional knowledge is the one place she feels safe right now. The one thing she still knows inside out.
“And since we would expect that experiencing memory fragments should lead to recovery of memories reasonably swiftly under normal circumstances, it’s also reasonable to assume that Antagonist A was medicating the patient with psychotropics or maybe a tropane alkaloid such as scopolamine in order that the recovery of memory was inhibited.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Laura can’t help but allow herself a quietly jubilant smile. She has Marlena now, has her on the right track. Now she just needs to keep her there. “But when the patient doesn’t respond in the way he wishes, he increases the abuse, arranging a near sexual assault on the patient. Again, Antagonist A sets himself up as the rescuer and protector. He offers to have her attacker executed, thereby impressing upon her both his ruthlessness in protecting her but also his ruthlessness against those who cross him.”
“He set up a perfect case of Stockholm syndrome,” Marlena’s voice is breathy and her eyes wide. “He deliberately manipulated her so that she’d have no choice but to completely trust in him.”
“Yes, because on some level, she knew if she didn’t, she would potentially suffer the same fate as he was suggesting that her attacker should meet.” Laura is pleased that Marlena is still divorcing her own emotion from the case. It will make the next bit easier for her to bear. “And yet, the patient continued to resist Antagonist A’s advances and continued to exhibit traits of her primary personality.” Laura pauses for a moment, wanting to keep Marlena involved in the diagnosis as much as possible. “What would you say Antagonist A’s motivation was in keeping the patient in captivity and the ongoing manipulation of her psychological state?”
Marlena thinks for a moment and then shifts her position so that she is facing Laura. Her position is less defensive now, her feet curled under her and one hand playing with her engagement and wedding rings. “I’d say his goal was to make her completely dependent on him. He wanted to completely control her and he wanted her to submit to his control. He deliberately set up the situations which would maintain her amnesia and in fact push her towards a dissociative fugue state. He wanted, if at all possible to obliterate her primary identity, to have complete power over her. And when she wouldn’t submit totally to his control, he went one step further to break her completely.”
“Right. He saw the effect that the attempted sexual attack had on her, but it didn’t go far enough. It had the desired effect to a limited degree, but he wanted to push the primary personality as far down as possible. So he repeated the experiment with Antagonist B. He knew Antagonist B was unstable, knew he was violent. He knew the patient already had a history of captivity with Antagonist B and was therefore, fearful of him.”
“So he engineered it. He released him and allowed that maniac to find me and….” Marlena’s voice is shaking and she is clasping her hands now, so Laura takes the opportunity to reach out and lay her hand over Marlena’s.
“No emotions Marlena, remember? Just facts. You’re just diagnosing a case here. Right now, that’s all we’re doing. We’ll deal with the emotions later, okay?”
“Okay,” Marlena nods, takes in a deep breath and blows it out. That helps, the reminder helps. Her emotions are not going to help her understand the reality of what took place all those years ago. They just complicate and cloud the issues. “Okay, you’re right. This is a case, that’s all.” The tremor in her voice belies her words and a single tear trickles down her cheek as she wraps her arms firmly around her knees once again.
“I know it was horrific honey,” Laura tells her gently. “I know that. But you can’t continue to shut it away. It’s breaking you, and I’m just trying to find the best way to help you through this, you know that.” She reaches out to touch Marlena’s shoulder, but Marlena abruptly shrugs her off, as though she can hardly bear anyone to touch her.
“I know, Laura.” Marlena’s voice is taut with barely controlled distress. “I’m f-… can we just get this bit over and done with. *Please*.”
“Of course,” Laura nods her head, her heart breaking for her friend. “Of course we can. Okay, as we know, the patient was a victim of a vicious sexual assault, the assailant being Antagonist B. Immediately after the assault, Antagonist A was on hand to comfort the patient, to offer his protection and his assistance. We know that it was at this point that the alternative identity started to emerge.”
“I think that really happened after the patient discovered she was pregnant,” Marlena swallows, her throat absolutely parched. “Antagonist A inferred that the pregnancy was the result of the assault.”
“Is there any reason to believe that the patient was pregnant prior to the assault?” Laura asks carefully. “It must have been weeks, if not months, since the patient had last been with her husband. Did the patient have any symptoms of pregnancy in the weeks preceding the attack by Antagonist B?”
“I…” Marlena looks thoughtful, and almost grateful that Laura has raised this point. “Not that I know of. It was a long time ago, Laura. I could be forgetting things.”
“I think the patient has to accept that in this case, Antagonist A was most likely telling the truth. I don’t think asking that question gets us anywhere constructive. At least, not now.” Laura shifts uncomfortably. This isn’t the ideal place to be conducting a therapy session, but she doesn’t want to break the thread of their progress right now. “The patient had undergone a horrific ordeal. I think we can predict that the patient was now suffering rape trauma syndrome, in addition to the dissociative amnesia. ”
“Antagonist B is the one remaining connection the patient had with her husband. And she felt drawn to him because of that. She was desperate to better understand who her husband was and how he could just abandon her like that felt that maybe she could understand that through Antagonist B. Shows how completely off her judgement was.” The corner of Marlena’s mouth twitches upwards in a faltering half smile. “She felt abandoned, insecure and isolated,” she says quietly. “And completely dependent on the protection of Antagonist A. When she was attacked, she felt on some level that she had failed Antagonist A. That if she’d been more the woman he wanted her to be, that the attack wouldn’t have happened, that he would have protected her with more vigilance. So the retrograde amnesia became a fully-blown dissociative fugue with the emergence of an alternative personality.”
“A personality that developed in line with Antagonist A’s desires. And we shouldn’t discount the desire the patient may have had to at least forge a partial independence; to defend herself from any further threats.” Laura nods thoughtfully. “You know as well as I do that in the reorganisation phase of individuals suffering RTS, violent fantasies of revenge are often common. Antagonist A encouraged the patient to fulfil those fantasies, thereby overtly shaping the formation of the new identity.”
“Because she’d already refused his offer with Lamont and the result of that had been the attack by Orpheus… Antagonist B,” Marlena corrects herself quickly. “So if she refused it a second time…”
“The trauma she’d suffered followed by the silent threat of escalating attacks was probably more than enough motivation for her to capitulate to Antagonist A’s desires.” Laura agrees. “But it wasn’t enough for him that she agreed that her attacker should be executed. No, Antagonist A knew he had her at this point and he wanted to push his advantage as far as possible. If he could make her the instrument of her own revenge, to destroy the last link to her husband, then the transformation was complete.”
“She had no choice.” It’s a completely matter-of-fact statement from Marlena and Laura feels her heart jump as she sees the realisation finally dawn in Marlena’s eyes. There had been no choice, no other eventuality. “She knew that she was expendable to him, just as Lamont and Orpheus were. He didn’t give her any other impression. At that point, Antagonist A just viewed her as a means to an end, and she was dispensable. If she’d continued to refuse him, what use to him would she have been?”
“None,” Laura shakes her head sympathetically. “None at all. The irony, I suppose, is that the alternative personality learned how to successfully manipulate him to the point where she did make herself indispensable. Do we have any idea how long she was in a coma after the second accident?”
“No,” Marlena shakes her head. “I would say Grace was working for Stefano for about a year, from what I can recall.”
“So, a good couple of years then,” Laura gnaws on her lip thoughtfully. “There must have come a point where Stefano gave up on hoping that you’d come out of the coma, and accepted that Grace was never going to recover. At that point, he’d chosen to have you sequestered away in San Cristobal. The reminder of having you close, but in a coma, must have been untenable for him.”
Marlena nods slowly, and takes a deep breath, trying to put all the pieces together. “So, why, when I awoke in San Cristobal, was I myself and not Grace?” she asks, her brow creased with confusion.
Laura shifts from where she is sitting so that she is facing Marlena. They are on safer territory now and she is happy for Marlena to start talking about the events in the first person. “Because, when you *did* come out of the coma in San Cristobal, there was no Stefano there to trigger the immediate distress and fear you’d felt the first time. We also have to contrast the situations going into the two accidents,” she reminds Marlena. “The first accident you had been traumatised and held captive for an extended period of time. Then you awoke to find Stefano at your bedside. The second time, you had spent a period of time as Grace. You’d felt confident in your ability to deal with Stefano and to deal with most situations you found yourself in. You trusted Stefano; you had no reason to be frightened. So you had no reason to resurrect the Grace personality. On some level, you knew you could handle whatever life threw at you.”
“And when Grace came back this time?” Marlena knows the answer really, but she wants Laura to spell it out for her. Her voice is brittle as she asks the question that has been haunting her. “Why couldn’t I handle finding out John had cheated on me? Am I that weak that I couldn’t deal with what happened? With the mercenary sleeping with Princess Gina?”
“Because it fed back into all those all abandonment issues you, probably rightfully, have.” Laura reminds her, not without compassion. “Roman… John… he’d disappeared and you felt lost and alone. And then you find out he’d slept with Hope and what’s worse; he’d lied to you about it. And Stefano was there, right there, feeding you the information that you didn’t want to hear. Your worst fears realised. John had betrayed you and you felt hurt and vulnerable. So you did what worked for you the last time. You turned to Stefano and you turned into Grace.” She lifts one eyebrow. “Also, you can’t forget the head trauma. Emotionally for you, it was like a redux of ‘87 all over again.”
Marlena says nothing, but presses her fingertips to her lips and looks away, blinking to stall the threatening tears.
“Personally, I’m amazed it took that long,” Laura says lightly, moving her head to catch Marlena’s line of vision. “If any normal person had been asked to endure all the ordeals you have, my friend, they’d have been either alcoholic or catatonic years ago.”
Marlena can’t stop the smile from curling her lips and she joins Laura in her throaty chuckle. “I guess you have a point there,” she says quietly.
“Of course I do,” Laura reaches out and squeezes Marlena’s fingers. “So how do you feel now? Now that we’ve put things into perspective. Are you still convinced that you’re a terrible person and you’re responsible for everything that happened?”
Marlena thinks for a long moment and then shakes her head slowly. “I know what you’re saying, Laura. I hear it all, and yes, I understand it rationally. Grace was an understandable response to an impossible situation. She allowed me to survive.” She stops and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know that it makes me feel any better about the things she did though.”
“Marlena, you were traumatised, brainwashed and brutalised. The things that happened to you broke you and Stefano manipulated what was left to fulfil his own twisted desires. How can you possibly blame yourself for that?” Laura feels frustrated beyond belief.
“I don’t blame myself for that, Laura,” Marlena sighs, fingering the edging of the comforter once again. “But… gosh honey, Grace was a murderer. She killed people. And she hurt my family. And however we spin her emergence, she was and *is* a part of me. I have her memories. How am I supposed to not feel responsible for the things she did. The blood of those men is on my hands, *whatever* they did to me. And poor Braden Davies…” Her voice falters and she pushes away the comforter in disgust.
Laura thinks for a beat and then decides that maybe it’s time for a change of scenery.
“Marlena, I’m going to get a drink of water,” she says gently. “Can I get you one?”
“Oh Laura,” Marlena smiles gratefully as she realises how parched she really is. And a break from this intense conversation is more than welcome. “Yes please.”
“Why don’t we continue this downstairs in a couple of minutes? I can get some water and make us some tea.” Laura takes Marlena’s hand and squeezes it again. “Why don’t you get changed? You might feel more comfortable and in control if you’re dressed.”
“All right.” Marlena smiles ruefully. “Although I’m not sure how in control the wardrobe Grace left me with will ever make me feel.”
“I’m sure you can find something appropriate.” Laura chuckles as she slips off the bed.
When Laura comes out of the kitchen she is grateful to see that Marlena is already in the living room. The doors to the balcony are open and she is standing, leaning against the frame, staring out over the rooftops of Salem. Before Laura speaks, she already knows that Marlena is a million miles away.
“Marlena?” She sets the tray, laden with water, a teapot, cups and a milk jug down on the table. “Marlena, honey?”
There is no answer and she sighs as she straightens. Quietly she walks over to where Marlena stands. “You okay honey?”
“Mmmmm?” Marlena turns to Laura. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Just peachy.” The sarcasm is unmistakable. “And before you tell me a cup of tea might help, it won’t.”
“No, nothing will make it feel better. Not for a while. But the talking will help. Eventually.”
“You know what would really help?” Marlena’s expression is cold and her usually warm cinnamon eyes are flinty. “If Stefano was dead. That’s the only thing that would make me feel better at the moment.”
She has spent a lot of time thinking about this over the past few days. Of all her regrets, and there are so very many; the fact that she didn’t kill him when she had the chance is the highest on her list. Dead and buried in a concrete coffin.
“Laura, Grace killed people, so I know I’m capable of it. So why didn’t I kill Stefano when I had the chance?” Her hands curl into fists and she thumps the door frame angrily. “Why couldn’t I just have rid the world of that miserable bastard? We’d all be better off.”
“Well, things would certainly have been different,” Laura concedes. “And if I recall history correctly, you did try once. Which should go a long way to helping you understand Grace. We can all do terrible things when we’re pushed over the edge. You were pushed so far over the edge that you didn’t know how to find your way back.”
“Because of Stefano,” Marlena says dully, looking once again out over the glittering city that she has lived in for so much of her life. The city that has seen her heights and her very depths. “It always comes back to Stefano, doesn’t it?”
“How does that make you feel?”
“It terrifies me.” Marlena’s voice is raspy now and she swallows. “Because I’m always looking over my shoulder, wondering what’s next. He’s made it his life’s mission to destroy mine.”
“I don’t think he’d see it like that.” Laura counters reasonably as she lays her hand on Marlena’s arm. “But he’s under lock and key now, Marlena. He’s going to trial with a grand jury in just a few weeks and with the information you found in New Orleans, the case is watertight.” She rubs Marlena’s arm comfortingly. “He can’t hurt you any more, honey.”
“Well, if you think that, you’re not as intelligent as I gave you credit for.” A noise comes from Marlena that is supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a bitter, choked cry and she turns and moves purposefully back into the room. “Since when has Stefano ever allowed himself to end up inside a court room? It’ll never come to that.” She turns back to face Laura, her expression dark, her eyes glittering dangerously. “He’ll be out of that cell before they even fix a date. Mark my words.”
“Honey, I know in the past he has managed to escape prosecution, but the FBI have him.” Laura shrugs. Marlena is right, Stefano has form in this sort of thing, but surely this time he can’t escape justice. This time they are wise to his tricks and schemes and this time, he will answer for his crimes. “He’ll be watched around the clock. There’s no way he’ll be able to escape this time. You have to have faith that the law will do it’s job and you’ll get justice at long last.”
“Yes, because that’s served me so well in the past, hasn’t it?” Marlena sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. “Oh Laura, I want to believe that he will get what he deserves, but I *know* Stefano. He’ll find a way, he always does. He’ll fake a heart attack or he’ll bribe someone and he’ll be gone. Until next time he shows up to make our lives a living hell.”
“He’s not invincible Marlena, he’s not immortal.” Laura moves back into the room and comes to stand beside Marlena. “He can’t bribe *everyone*.”
“No, but all it takes is one in the right place. And he has endless resources. For goodness sake, Grace just passed all John’s money over to him.” She sighs irritably, brushing her hand over her forehead. “And let’s not forget he managed to bribe someone in the ISA’s lab to switch Roman and Lamont’s DNA tests. What Stefano wants, Stefano gets. He as much as told me that in that jail cell in New Orleans. Told me to enjoy the time I had with my family because he would be coming for me.”
“Oh Marlena,” Laura draws her friend into a hug. She understands Marlena’s fears only too well and knows that she is right to be fearful of Stefano’s legendary ability to escape from the trickiest of situations. He’s not known as the Phoenix for nothing. “Honey, I totally understand your fears, but you can’t live your whole life frightened of looking around the next corner for fear Stefano might be lurking behind it. What kind of way is that to live?”
“No way.” Marlena sighs and drops onto the sofa. She curls her long legs up under her, the black knit crop pants and crisp white blouse hugging her ridiculously slender figure. “But realistically, can you see any other way? Even if I killed Stefano with my own hands, I still don’t think I’d trust him not to come after me.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Laura tries to lighten the mood but her words fall flatly between them. “Is that what’s behind the nightmares?” she asks softly, handing Marlena a glass of water. “Your fear of Stefano?”
Marlena takes a mouthful of the cool water, letting it wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. “Maybe,” she shrugs. “I suppose that’s part of it, yes. Stefano and what he’s done to me. What he continues to do to me.”
“But isn’t that letting him win from behind bars? Isn’t living your life looking over your shoulder – isn’t that just what he wants?”
“Of course it is.” Marlena snaps irritably. “I’m in a no win situation Laura. Stay here and worry about Stefano escaping. Don’t worry and then get blindsided the next time he actions one of his schemes.”
“Okay, okay, I understand what you’re saying; but we can work on reducing that anxiety to manageable levels, all right?” Laura reassures her. “You’re understandably fraught right now, with everything that’s happened. You may feel that it’s more manageable in a few weeks time. Let’s assume that he does get to court and ends up in a maximum security facility, far, far away… then you can start to live your life a little more freely, right?”
“You’re making an awfully big assumption there Laura,” Marlena takes another mouthful of the water and then puts the glass down on the table. Running her fingers through her hair, she nods carefully, “but for the sake of argument, yes, I suppose I can.”
“Have you talked to Roman about these fears?” Laura asks.
“No,” Marlena shakes her head. “He’s worried enough about me as it is.”
“But don’t you think he’s feeling the same things? Don’t you think sharing that worry would help both of you? You need some strategies for coping with your anxiety.”
“Like what?” Marlena demands shortly. “What on earth could make me feel better about the idea that Stefano is determined to have me? You’ve just spent the past hour drumming into my head that he is the reason for all my woes. And he told me himself that he is determined to have me. That he won’t stop until he has. So tell me Laura. How is telling Roman all that going to make either of us feel any better?”
“How many times has he tried that? How many times has he tried to interfere in your lives?” Laura points out reasonably as she pours a cup of tea for Marlena and herself. “And he’s never succeeded.” Marlena shoots her a look that makes her qualify her statement. “Oh for short periods of time, maybe. But ultimately, you and Roman always win out. You always do and you always will.”
“And what if that one time, we don’t?” Marlena takes the mug of tea that Laura hands her and rests it on her knee. “All it will take is that one time Laura. For him to win. For me to lose everything I hold dear. Forever.”
“Well, what if he does come for you?” Laura challenges her. There is no use in being fearful and anxious and just waiting like a victim. That’s not the Marlena she knows, anyway. “Maybe if you have some strategies to deal with that eventuality-“
“If he comes near me or my family again,” Marlena says, her voice dripping with vitriol, “I’ll kill him. I swear it Laura, if Stefano so much as even *looks* in the direction of Roman or the children, or *anyone* I care about, I swear to God, I will kill him, once and for all.....”