A Battle Of Minds Ch 03

This is the third chapter in a longer story which mainly is situated in the mind control category. This chapter, however, is posted in the non-consent category and contains also elements of incest -- please be aware of this before reading.

I recommend reading the whole story, but since this chapter is an interlude to the general story line, it can also be read by itself -- to know who the characters are, however, I will give a short summary of what has happened so far:

The story takes place in the small town of Leskow, in Eastern Germany, sometime in the late 1990s or early 2000s. During the last two years, Laura's life has been turned upside down. With the help of a mysterious locket, first her classmate Martin and later her former math teacher Mr. Seger -- believed dead by everyone -- have succeeded to control the young woman's mind and actions. While Martin was mainly concerned with his own sexual pleasures, Mr. Seger forced her to sell her body to other students. Since Laura is developing the necessary mental strength to break free of that control, Mr. Seger fears she might become a danger to him -- after all she put Martin into a coma a year earlier. Thus he arranges for Laura to be arrested.

~~~

Dark and quiet are the waters of Lake Leskow under the night sky. Reed is swaying gently in the soft breeze; little waves are cutting the moon's reflection into a million dancing pieces. Somewhere at the Western shore, the small town of Leskow is asleep, the windows of its houses dark, the streets empty. In the Grünenberger forest, reaching the lake's Southern and Eastern shores, it is quiet as well, almost every living being is asleep, hiding in trees, under shrubs, or in small caves; just an owl disturbs the silence of the summer night a few times with its cries.

Then, however, the sound of footsteps is tearing into the quiet of the night, a strange sound that doesn't seem to belong here. The sound of heavy feet, a menacing sound in a night like this, announces the approach of a dark figure making its way through the thickest part of the forest before reaching a clearing. The figure walks across it to a small bay in the South Eastern corner of the lake. Finally the figure reaches the water, and pauses for a few moments. Now, that it is unmoving, it can hardly be seen underneath the trees; a shapeless dark shadow, looking out over the water into the night.

Then, this shadow turns away again, returns into the forest, and disappears between trees and shrubs. Twigs break under the heavy feet, right by the edge of the clearing. Finally, however, the sound of the footsteps stops suddenly, and for just a few moments, the silence of the night returns.

For a few moments, all that is heard is the rustle of leafs in the wind. Then, the sound of a loud, demanding knock against a wooden door wakes up the birds all animals sleeping near the clearing.

***

"Murder, Laura?"

The sound of complete and utter disbelief still remained in police chief Stefan Rombach's voice, even though he had asked this very question an uncounted number of times throughout the past week.

"You have gone through a lot, of course... I can understand your behavior during the last months, after what has happened. Of course I don't condone it, but it is understandable, it's a phase. But... killing someone?"

On the floor there was a little stone, maybe it had stuck to someone's shoe, and had thus journeyed into the interrogation room along with the wearer of said shoe, before falling off and staying here, on the floor. Laura gave the stone a little kick with the tip of her left foot and watched it roll over the floor towards her right foot. Then she kicked it with her right foot, so it rolled back to her left one. Just very light kicks, so the movement of her legs would barely be noticeable to anyone but her.

"At least look at me, damn it!"

The words came out louder than he had intended, and two of the other police officers present in the interrogation room looked at each other, pulling up their eyebrows, concern in their eyes. The police chief stopped yelling and just stared at the girl in front of him, as if he had gotten scared by the sound of his own voice. His shoulders were hanging down, and he looked like he had aged about ten years during the last week.

A small drop of saliva landed on Laura's forehead; she felt the liquid on her skin like a small, burning spot, like acid, eating its way into her. Of course, she knew it was just a bit of spit, but it seemed to itch, grow into huge proportions, making her unable to concentrate on anything else. She was tempted to lift her hand and wipe over her forehead. However, any reaction at all to the fact that her uncle was standing in front of her and had just yelled at her seemed senseless, even dangerous. She just stared back into his face, into those eyes that had always looked at her lovingly. Now, there were deep shadows under Uncle Stefan's blue eyes, showing the exhaustion those last few days had meant for police chief Rombach.

None of the police officers in the room dared as much as breathe, while uncle and niece stared silently into each other's eyes. The whole world seemed to have stopped turning. Only the ticking of a clock disturbed the silence.

The ticking of a clock. Laura's mind searched for a link -- she knew that kind of ticking. Her head started aching, and the ticking seemed to increase in volume. She kept staring into her uncle's face, did not dare close her eyes even for a second. She felt them burn, her eyes, but she could not stop staring at him. His eyes were tired, red. Red like blood. Blood. The ticking of the clock. The pale hand behind the sofa. The ticking grew louder and louder, it seemed to make the walls of the room shake. It surrounded her; there was no way to escape that ticking sound.

Finally, the girl broke the silence.

"Please, can someone stop that clock?" she whispered.

For a few moments, the echo of her words seemed to linger in the air, mingling with the silence of the police officers and the ticking clock. Police chief Rombach's face looked down on her in disbelief. Then, slowly, his features distorted in anger.

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" he screamed. This time, the sound of his own voice did not seem to scare him, and the long-dried drop of spit on Laura's face got the company of several more. Police chief Rombach was still shouting, and Laura could not understand what he was saying -- and she was not trying, either. She was just glad that his voice was loud enough for her not to hear that horrible ticking sound anymore.

***

Mrs. Meyer opened the door to the small shop with such force, that the quaint little bronze bell, hanging inside the bakery at Leskow's main street to announce customers, started swinging wildly enough to almost do a full turn. Behind Mrs. Meyer, mercilessly pulled onwards with a red leather leash, followed Fifi, her tiny but rather round black poodle. The overweight animal was panting, apparently it had been forced to run, and on its owner's pudgy cheeks, overgrown with a fine layer of black hair, there were bright red spots. People that knew Mrs. Meyer, and in fact almost everyone in Leskow did know her, were aware that this was a clear sign of her being highly agitated. You could always tell easily what state Mrs. Meyer was in, and agitation was one of her more common states.

Mrs. Meyer had spent her whole life in Leskow, not only did almost everyone know her, but more importantly, she knew all people of the little town -- even those few that were not aware of her existence. And not only did she know everyone, but she also knew the darkest secrets about them, those that they would not even tell their closest friends. Mrs. Meyer's great talent was finding out news, and passing them on.

And she had news right now -- that was something you could tell by just one look into her shining eyes. As soon as Mrs. Meyer crossed the threshold into the bakery, she already blurted out that one sentence, with which she started any conversation:

"Have you already heard...?"

Mrs. Meyer did not wait for the young woman behind the bakery's counter to react to this question. "He has woken up!" she continued, with a triumphant expression.

The young shop clerk gaped at the older lady, her open mouth giving her expression a less than intelligent appearance. 'Her jacket does not at all go well with the color she died her hair in', she thought. Being a fashionable young woman, the shop clerk herself always made sure her clothes fit with the bright but artificial blond of her hair. Of course, the old lady in front of her had dyed her hair in such a vile purple, it was almost impossible to find appropriate clothing. As the young woman pondered this, she slowly realized that Mrs. Meyer was silent now and staring at her expectantly. Apparently she had to show some kind of reaction.

"Who?"

"That boy... the one who won the diving contest last year. Don't you know? The one that had been lying in a coma for all those months!" Mrs. Meyer said quickly. After that, she hesitated for a moment, as if to catch breath, before she added: "One whole meal bread, please. And ten bread rolls."

***

"Murder, Laura?"

The echo of that word would be etched into Laura's brain forever. The essence of all those questions that she had been asked in the last week, and the questions she was asking herself, constantly, when she was lying awake in her cell every night.

"Why did you do it? Why did you kill the Kopnickys?"

The Kopnickys. The name still made Laura's heart give a jump. Daniel's family. His face, a face she had not thought about much during her few waking moments in the last months, appeared inside her head painfully clearly. She had lost him forever. Until yesterday, she had asked herself again and again, whether she had killed him as well. The idea had been too much to bear -- but not knowing was even worse. How could she find out, though? How could she ask something like that? Yesterday, eventually, after many hours of tiresome interrogations, all of which she had met with silence, she overcame her fear.

"What about Daniel?"

The policeman she had asked pulled his eyebrows together and looked at her darkly. He had known Laura since she was a little girl, had seen her many times when she came to the police station to visit her uncle. And the whole town knew she had been going out with Daniel Kopnicky, until their sudden break-up two years ago.

"We have informed Daniel Kopnicky about what has happened. Currently he is on his way back to Germany. You

will

have to face him whenever your case is brought to court."

Despite everything, Laura had felt a certain relief when she heard those news, even something like happiness, if that type of feeling was still possible for her. Daniel was alive! He had not been home, not even in town. She had not killed him.

Her happiness, of course, did not last long. Now that her mind was free again, she found herself thinking of him constantly. Again and again she imagined the pain he would be feeling now, the hatred against her, and again and again the vision of the Kopnickys' living room appeared in her mind, this familiar room that was suddenly filled with the sickening smell of blood and a horrible silence that was disturbed only by the ticking of a clock. And slowly, the realization sank in: She had killed Mr. and Mrs. Kopnicky.

***

"Hey, are you even listening?"

The police chief's questions tore Laura from her thoughts. She was still sitting on the same chair, her uncle was still towering in front of her, the other three policemen were still watching her with worried expressions, and even the clock was still ticking as annoyingly as ever.

Laura could not see any changes in the little interrogation cell, and yet, something had changed. Something was not alright; something was not as it should be. Nothing was as it should be, Laura thought grimly. For the past two years, nothing had been as it should be. Her whole life was not alright anymore.

Just now, however, something was even less alright than usual. There was something in the air, it felt as if the soft breeze that had entered the interrogation cell through the tiny window just moments earlier, did not carry in fresh air, but rather made the air thicker, impenetrable somehow, giving it a different taste and quality that Laura could not quite describe, but that she knew just too well. The locket! That mysterious locket, used to control her, first by Martin, her classmate that the whole town believed to be her boyfriend, and then by her former math teacher Mr. Seger that the whole town believed to be dead -- the locket was close by. Laura could feel its presence.

Her heart started beating faster, the dread and hopelessness she had felt until now changed into panic. Had Mr. Seger come to the police station? Did he want to get her back, or force her to admit her crime, so that she would end up behind bars, and be safely out of his way?

Laura had to tread cautiously now. She could not be sure what new dangers were awaiting her. Instead of answering her uncle, the police chief, she used all power of concentration that she had to secure her mind against the influence of the locket. She had learned to fight against it, she knew she was strong, but the locket was a force to be reckoned with. One moment of carelessness would rob her of her own free will.

Nothing happened, however. The strange feeling disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. The air felt normal again, like the locket was far away.

"Can I have something to drink?" Laura asked finally.

Police chief Romback nodded, looking tired. He left the room in person to get a glass of water for Laura. After just a few moments, he returned carrying a plastic cup. Laura lifted her hand to take her drink -- but before she could close her fingers around it, her uncle suddenly jerked forwards, and she felt something cold and wet on her chest: police chief Rombach had emptied the cup, suddenly and without warning, but quite obviously on purpose, onto her shirt.

"Hey!"

Laura glared at her uncle reproachfully. He, however, did not react or even look her into the eyes -- instead, he stared at the result of his own clumsiness: Laura's thin T-shirt, appropriate for the hot august weather outside and the stuffy air inside, was now hugging her small round breasts tightly. She was wearing a very light-colored shirt, the type that became transparent when wet. In reaction to the cold water, her nipples had stiffened and were clearly visible under the wet textile.

Uncle Stefan wore an expression like he was somewhere in a different world. His eyes were fixed onto Laura's breasts, and slowly, as if in a trance, he lifted a hand. When his fingers made contact with the wet cloth of Laura's shirt, her tongue, locked in an astonished speechlessness thus far, suddenly loosened.

"Have you gone mad?" she shrieked, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

From his lack of reaction, however, Laura suspected that her words never reached her uncle's brain. There was something dangerously familiar in his expression. The way his eyes were clouded and his features were relaxed made him seem remote, like he was not even consciously present in the room. He looked almost dreamy, as he smiled down at the wet fabric clinging to her breasts, and at his own hand, tenderly fondling one of the small orbs.

The very moment Laura realized this, though, the police chief's expression changed into one of confusion. He pulled back his hand with a sudden movement, as if it had been burned. The other police officers, who thus far had been standing by motionless, started stirring again. They looked disoriented, as if they were just waking up from a long and deep sleep.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to do that," police chief Rombach said. "Wait, I will get you something dry to wear."

He walked towards the door. The other three police officers seemed undecided whether they should follow him or stay here, with Laura. Before the police chief had reached the door of the small room, however, he abruptly turned around and looked at his niece once more.

"Better take off that shirt, it is soaked, you will catch a cold if you sit there in wet clothing."

His voice sounded somewhat strange, different from the voice Laura was used to. She could not say, of what this difference consisted, whether it was the sound of the voice itself, or the way he pronounced the words. She just knew that this was not quite her uncle's voice.

Quickly, Laura shook her head, but police chief Rombach did not even seem to notice. He abandoned his plan of looking for a dry shirt, and instead returned to his niece. In shock, Laura realized what her uncle was about to do. She opened her mouth, searching for the right words to express her protest -- but she found she was rendered speechless, frozen to her chair in the middle of the room. Her own lack of reaction was not the locket's doing, she knew. After all, she was fully conscious of everything around her. It was fear that made her unable to defend herself.

"Help her!" the police chief ordered the other three officers.

One of them, a big-boned, elderly man with a gray moustache, reacted instantly, hurrying over to Laura. Before the girl could as much as squirm away, he had grabbed the hem of her shirt and started jerking it upwards. On his face, Laura could see the same expression as on her uncle's features -- a somewhat distant, unfocused expression, as if he was not fully there. Then, the shirt obscured her view, as he pulled it over her head.

***

For about the twentieth time, the young shop clerk looked at her watch. The first few looks had been sneaky, barely noticeable, or at least meant as such. After all, she was supposed to treat her customers well, and talkative old ladies were customers too. By now she stared at her watch in such an obvious way, though, that anyone near her was bound to notice she was losing her patience.

The only person nearby, however, was Mrs. Meyer herself, and Mrs. Meyer was much too immersed in what she was saying to pay much attention to the young woman's bored yawns. She had things to say, important things, and such a young thing could learn a lot if she just listened to her. Just now, she had started on the general deterioration of moral in today's youth -- back in her own time, young people had dressed properly, had organized friendship evenings and done activities in the local youth organization, or had helped the elderly with their shopping instead of going to parties or playing computer games, and anyway, back in the old times not everything had been bad, people had done their jobs instead of arguing about politics, and if she had any say...

The little bell on top of the bakery's door interrupted her speech, and Mrs. Meyer turned around to see a burly young man with very short hair entering the little shop. Staring at him, she fell silent, while the shop clerk obviously forgot to close her mouth again after the hearty yawn she had given just moments earlier. They both knew this young man -- they had talked about his strange awakening from a coma just minutes earlier.

Martin was somewhat paler than he had been a year ago, but rather than looking happy about his mysterious cure, his expression was just as bored as usual -- and a little distant, as if nothing truly concerned him. He did not seem to notice the shock his appearance had caused, but greeted the shop clerk in a slow, drawling voice. The words came out slightly garbled, however, as if he was tripping over his own tongue, and his voice sounded hoarse from lack of use. He sounded like someone that had not said anything in a long time. Like the order for an éclair and two doughnuts were the first words crossing his lips since he woke up from the coma.