Lynda La Plante - Twisted

Cornwall settled himself opposite Lena, who was lying on a couch dressed in her own nightdress and dressing gown. The fingers of her hands were interlinked and resting on her stomach. He took his time with her, firstly talking to her in a calm relaxing manner. His intention was to bypass her critical, logical mind, and gain access to the most powerful part of her brain, her subconscious mind, which in turn would allow him access to all her memories, habits and feelings, but most importantly her alter personalities. He needed first to get to the root of her problems and sort out the emotional baggage, so he could have a better understanding of why she suffered from DID. As Cornwall spoke softly and took her through a series of relaxation exercises, Lena looked as if she was falling into a pleasant daydream.

Jackson glanced at Reid. ‘I hope he knows what he is bloody doing,’ he hissed.

Reid said nothing, as he was finding it very difficult seeing how calm Lena was, especially around Cornwall. He knew Jackson wanted to arrest and interview her, but it was clearly evident she was mentally unwell and any interview might be deemed illegal and not allowed in evidence. Reid also knew that even if she was charged with multiple murders, a report from Cornwall would probably state she was unfit to plead, and result in the court sending her to a secure psychiatric institution for a nonspecific length of time, or until it was considered she was better and no longer a threat to herself or anyone else.

He knew deep down that the sweet smiling patient had administered lethal dosages of poison, and that she might also have murdered her own daughter, especially in the absence of other suspects, but Reid had no proof or witnesses to any of it. Although there were poisonous mushrooms discovered in her house and garden, he could not prove Lena grew them, and she could claim it must have been Amy, who from her schoolbooks was clearly knowledgeable on the subject. The contents of Lena’s handbag had been searched and nothing incriminating was found, so even if she had intended to harm Agnes she hadn’t been going to the meeting armed with poison.

Jackson sat on the edge of the low leather chair, and Reid on an identical one beside him. They were uncomfortable and by now they had been waiting for over an hour. It was another ten minutes before Cornwall signalled that Lena was now in a state of hypnosis and the two nurses could enter the room. He began to speak to her very quietly, so much so that Jackson leaned ever closer to the speakers beside the large monitor.

‘I can’t hear him,’ Jackson muttered.

‘Do you recognize my voice, Lena?’ Cornwall asked.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘You know who I am, don’t you?’

‘Yes I do.’

‘You know that you can trust me, and that anything you tell me will help me to help you – does that make sense to you, Lena?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘What I am going to do is ask you some questions and see if you can answer and prove that you can hear me clearly, because it is important that I know you are listening. Are you listening to me, Lena?’

‘Yes, I can hear you.’

‘So you know that I am close, and there is no need for you to be afraid, because I am right beside you and I will not move away from you.’

Jackson sighed and pushed his fat butt further back into the chair. He glanced towards Reid with a shake of his head, and deliberately looked at his wristwatch.

Cornwall had plainly decided to take his patient to a point after the suspected abuse by her father and then regress her back through time.

‘I am going to ask you about where you went to university, can you remember?’

Reid found Jackson’s impatience irritating and his constant shuffling about made it hard to hear Lena, so he turned up the volume and listened as Lena in a soft cultured voice spoke about Oxford, describing her degree course, lecturers, friends and hobbies in amazing detail. It went on for a considerable while as she was asked what appeared to be mundane questions, and she answered without appearing to be in any way distressed. It took over half an hour as Cornwall continued speaking softly and Lena replied coherently as he gradually took her further back into her childhood. Still she appeared to be relaxed and had turned to lie with her hands at her side, her head resting back on the pillow.

‘I am going to ask you to go back to something that perhaps frightened you, something that maybe you have never told anyone else, something that you have never wanted to remember.’

The two detectives now became mesmerized by what was happening in front of them. Lena’s body began to twist, and she started to curl up into a foetal position, and it was obvious she was becoming very distressed. Cornwall kept up the soft encouraging dialogue as he asked her to tell him what was happening. She flayed her arms, kicking out with her legs, and she began to beg and plead, saying over and over, ‘No, please not in my mouth. I can’t breathe, I CAN’T BREATHE.’

Cornwall calmed her before asking what was being put into her mouth. Lena spoke in a childlike voice, saying it was a dirty word, she wouldn’t say the word, and when he asked her how old she was she lisped that she was eight. When he asked her where she was, she said she was in her bedroom at home.

It became painful to listen as Cornwall got her to tell him it was a ‘penis’, and she started sobbing and flaying her arms again as if to ward off someone; she gagged and it seemed she would vomit, as she yet again screamed for it not to be forced into her mouth.

Cornwall asked if she knew the person who was hurting her and making her feel sick, but she curled up and hid her face. It was a while before he eventually got her to tell him that she knew who it was, but she refused to identify him, and it was hideous when she turned her body over so her abuser could put his penis up her vagina and her backside. The strain of recalling the abuse made her cry out that it was hurting her; she even tried to fend off the abuser – twice the nurses had to step forward and gently restrain her from punching out at Cornwall and nearly falling from the therapy couch. She still refused to say who it was, and no matter how quietly Cornwall tried to persuade her, she would not give a name. As she was so distressed, he now moved her forward in time away from the little girl who said it always happened in the bedroom. Her body stopped writhing and twisting, and she had a different high-pitched voice, now describing how very special she was and the presents and pretty clothes and cashmere sweaters she was given because she was a good girl.

‘Did you get these presents because you were just a good girl or did you have to do something for them?’

‘Yes I had to do it, Monday, Wednesday and Sunday after chapel.’

‘What were you made to do?’

‘Oh I can’t tell you, I never can tell anyone, and it’s a secret.’

‘Why is it a secret?’

‘Because no one must ever know or I will die, and I know this is true because he told me with my hand on the Bible.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Oh no, you can’t trap me, I have to obey the rules.’

‘How long did you have to obey the rules, Lena?’

‘Mind your own business, you dirty fucking bastard, you try and trap me and I will make you sorry, you listen to me or I will cut your dick off.’

Reid sat back, his jaw open, as the voice Lena had adopted was guttural and coarse. Jackson was equally disturbed, but he refused to even acknowledge that he was suddenly hearing another one of the personalities emerge.

‘Who am I talking to, Lena?’

‘The boss, you motherfucker, I am the boss and I will not have her upset, or asked any more questions about her bastard father, you hear me? He is long dead. You had better not ask any more questions about the way he came into her room and screwed her up the arse.’