“Seven.” The line broke between her ears and the woman held up a piece of paper outstretched in the air as if it were a presentation of a child’s art.

  She never thought it would come down to seven. Nine would have been a better number for such a thing, nice and round.

  It was raining again, and the open window made the sound of water that more inciting. It felt as though the room was floating somewhere inside a deep ocean, unbound to any shore or conscious thought.

  “Did you hear what I was saying Miss Tamon?” the woman in white spoke again breaking down the paper wall between them.

  “Yes,” Myra returned as the ringing in her ears made all words sound the same. “Are you certain?”

  “We’ll need to schedule another scan because the severity of your symptoms is not something I’d wish to undermine. We’ve been tracking your condition for months now and I fear there has been no progress. With cases like yours, it is best to keep a close eye on every possible change, both physical and cognitive. I agreed to have you return to work because I believed the development of the condition had stabilized and you would benefit from it, but it appears I was wrong.”

  “I am the one who wanted to keep it to myself,” Myra said, staring at the fan on the ceiling. “If it’s bound to happen it will happen. At least I’ll get to do some good before the grim reaper knocks.”

  “I am truly sorry, but even with modern medicine, there is little we can do to reverse neurological decay. Tell me, have there been any developments with your memories from last winter? Neural pathways can sometimes reconnect, even in a case like yours.”

  “No. It’s still pretty much the same gaping hole as it’s always been. I get feelings, a little deja vu here and there, but that's it.”

  “And how’s your sleep? Have the pills helped?”

  “A bit. I get about four, sometimes five hours of good sleep before it starts.” Some uninvited pain in her jaw made her face twitch and she took solace in a glass of water she hadn’t touched since she arrived. The cold seemed to help soothe the pain though it still lingered as a sensation. “After the nightmares start, I don’t bother sleeping at all.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “We’ll have to do better.” The doctor fixed her glasses and rolled the pen between her fingers. She then scribbled something in her notes and looked Myra in the eye. “Perhaps we could try a different combination next time. The nightmares, do they happen every night like they used to?

  “Yes,” she returned averting her gaze. Something inside her did not want to admit to such a revealing fact. “Without a fail.”

  “The fallen trees, the laughing woman, and the monument of red stone,” the doctor said following the handwritten lines from an older session. “Is it still the same?”

  “Yes. It’s always the same, no matter how many times you ask me that question,” Myra leaned in as if confrontation was the best way to deal with the fact she was suffering.

  “And what about other symptoms? Have you had any hallucinations? Voices? Is there anything new you haven’t encountered before?”

  “Not really,” she said, suddenly remembering the night in the park, and the shadows speaking into her ears. “Although... there is one thing.”

  “What's that?”

  “I’ve had headaches, but not like before. These were stronger... like iron pins being pushed into my skull. They come rarely and go quickly, usually when I’m stressed. Could this be another symptom of the same disease?”

  “It is quite possible, yes. I’ll schedule another examination this week just to be sure. But, we can’t exclude the the fact that you’ve suffered psychological trauma as well. It is a different kind of wound, and it hasn’t healed yet.”

  “Why do you think it matters then, after you’ve told me my days may be numbered? What are headaches and nightmares compared to losing yourself to oblivion?”

  The doctor sighed, took off her glasses, and set her notes aside. She pushed herself away from her desk and poured a glass of some strong brandy she had in the cupboard.

  “Let’s pretend this is water, even if it costs me my job,” she said in a serious tone, and handed a glass over to Myra. “I’ll be honest with you because that’s the only right thing to do here. I’ve never seen a case like yours. Not once. I’ve spoken to my colleges as well, and they had the same conclusion. When I say seven, what I really mean is it is my most optimistic wish. I cannot tell you how long, I cannot even tell you if time is the greatest factor here. Your brain… your mind is going through a change, it is being altered as we speak. Simply put, no matter how long it takes, it will change you until you can no longer recognize yourself. And I cannot do anything about it, because there simply is no cure for something like this. We will slow it down, but at the end of that road, the same fate will await you.” She downed the glass and put it back in the drawer like nothing ever happened.

  “Thank you,” Myra said, as the rain subsided and her heartbeat settled. She was finally faced with the truth she never saw coming, but it would take yet some time for her to truly feel its weight. For all she cared at that moment, there was still some unfinished business waiting for her. “I’ll be seeing you around, doctor.”