Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

What kind of bollocks was this? “Fuck off, Michael!” The words exploded from her mouth, shocking both of them.

“I know, I know, Lisa. It sounds ridiculous, but it is true. They think they can bring him back by giving me his memories. By blocking my own. You have no idea what it is like when you can’t remember who you are. When you look in the mirror and see a stranger.”

She could hear the fear in his voice. She had heard it before, when they first met, but she had not heard it for a long time.

“He was some kind of industrialist, and he knew Hitler personally. His name was Heinz Hofmann. He was the Hofmann in Meyer-Hofmann.”

She shook her head and sniffed the tears and mucus out of her nose. Moving to the sink, she stood up and spat the substance into the basin. Turning on the tap, she bathed her face in the cold water, rinsing her mouth out, spitting the bad taste into the white porcelain bowl. The pain between her legs was a constant reminder of what had just happened. Looking in the mirror, she made her decision.

I am leaving him. She didn’t verbalise it, but she had made her mind up.

Michael was motivated by the sounds from behind the door and waited for them to die down, before continuing.

“He is a monster, Lisa. He took control of me at the station. It was him talking German at the Town Hall. It wasn’t me, how could it have been? You know I don’t speak German!” It made no sense, what was he saying?

“Lisa, they are all related to people who were in Hitler’s inner circle. The Company was set up to continue their work after the war. They want it to start all over again.”

He sounds so convincing; it doesn’t sound like he’s lying. But what he is saying is rubbish! She shook her head and stared at her reflection in the mirror, hoping for some guidance.

Michael stood and stretched. It was going better than he had hoped. He was now sure that she was listening. Moving back to the door, he put his hands flat on the door panels. In the bathroom, Lisa wrapped a towel around herself and sat on the side of the bath. Staring in the mirror at the streaks of mascara slashed across her face, she could not believe this was happening.

What was he telling her? It could not be true.

“They found a way to make people remember what their fathers or grandfathers had done in their lives. It is like having a past life experience, except it’s as if you were there. It’s mad. I can remember his mother, his first school, his girlfriends, his wife, his affairs. I can remember the way he felt, his beliefs, his anger. Lisa, I can remember my grandmother—he raped her. She was just a girl, and he took her as if she were a vessel for his amusement.”

Again, she shook her head.

“Sometimes there is no me. I become lost in him, in his memories, in his thoughts. And when that happens, I lose control. He takes over. I can watch, but I can’t stop him. Then a while ago, in the apartment, something changed. He got a headache, and suddenly, I remembered who I was. Can you remember, maybe? When I fell in the kitchen? When I told you they had drugged me? I got control back for a few minutes. When you hit him, hit me in the bedroom, it helped me to take control back from him—it has something to do with the pain! Lisa, you have to believe me. I would never hurt you. I love you. Please, Lisa, you know that it’s true!”

Lisa had once read a book about schizophrenia, and this sounded a lot like it.

Michael is a schizophrenic, she realised in horror.

“Michael, I think you are ill. You need help. You need to get help, Michael.”

“No, Lisa, you’re wrong. There is nothing wrong with me; it’s them. They have done this to me.”

Michael held his head in his hands. He had no right to hope that she would believe him.

Would I have believed her, if our roles were reversed? He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, only to feel the spectre of Hofmann creeping up on him again.

Moving quickly across the room, he picked up the glass from the bedside table and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered on impact, the shards creating a firework of reflected light, falling to the floor, spent and broken. Swiftly picking up the largest splinter from the floor, Michael pressed the point into the palm of his hand, gripping it tightly.

“Michael! What was that? Are you all right?”

Michael fought the pain, but knew it to be a necessary evil.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. It was him, he’s fighting me. I had to stop him. The only way I have found is pain. When I am in pain, I become more lucid, and I can keep the upper hand. Lisa, you do believe me, don’t you? Please !”

She thought about it for a minute. What if he has gone mad? What if he is just waiting for me to open the door so that he can stab me with that glass? But what if he is telling the truth? I should give him a chance? I owe him that much, don’t I? It’s a leap of faith, but I have to trust him one last time. She turned the key, the lock clicked, and she prepared herself for the worst.

The door opened slowly around a creaky hinge, to reveal the figure of a man standing in the middle of the bedroom. Lisa stood in the rose glow of the bathroom light, tears running down her cheeks, the top of the white towel she had wrapped around herself stained by makeup. He had never been so happy to see her in his life. Taking a step back to give her some space, he hoped to convince her she had nothing to fear. She looked down at his hand and gasped at the blood trickling through his fingers and dropping onto the cream bedroom carpet, a small puddle of red. He followed her gaze, looking to the floor, but seemingly unconcerned.

I know this man; this man is safe. She had no idea how she knew this, but her body was already relaxing. An involuntary reaction to the man she loved.

“It’s nothing to worry about, darling. It’s how I keep control, the pain helps me.” He said it as if it made total sense.

Staring from him to the shattered glass on the floor, to the messed up bed, and back to Michael, she realised she had to make her choice.

This could be the most dangerous decision of her life. If she was wrong, it could very well cost her, her life.

But without him, I have no life!

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

As she entered the room, Michael moved carefully past her and into the bathroom. Taking a hand towel, he wrapped it tightly around his hand. The tip of the glass shard moved deeper into his fleshy palm, and he welcomed the new burst of pain with a grimace and a grin into the bathroom mirror. When he turned back towards the bedroom, Lisa was sat on the end of the bed. The tears had stopped, and she was waiting for him.

“Lisa, we have to stop them. These are evil men, and they are going to become more proactive if I allow Hofmann to join them. He is the catalyst. I have to find a way of destroying him.”

“And what if you can’t?”

Michael looked her straight in the eyes, his resolution plain to see.

“I can—”

“No, Michael! There has to be another way.”

“There probably is, darling, but I won’t let him use me. Lisa, we have to stop them all, not just Hofmann. Ecker, Reichard and von Klitzing are treating their sons with the virus right now. In a week’s time we will have another three lunatics to deal with.”

“Maybe it won’t work; it didn’t work with you.” Her voice lacked conviction.

“They have so many plans, Lisa. They are moving into politics. It sounds like they already have hundreds of politicians in their pockets. They are going to manipulate the stock markets, bankrupt banks. It will create unrest throughout Europe.”