Divided Shadows_2

Part 3

10 months ago

Dr. Whittaker’s office was unnervingly quiet, as though every sound was absorbed by the thick carpet and muted, gray walls. Lotta sat across from the doctor, her arms folded tightly, her gaze hardened, as if bracing herself for yet another interrogation. It had been a month now—a month since they’d forced her into this place, a month since she’d last seen Angela. Yet her memories of Angela felt as vivid as ever, even if everyone here seemed determined to rip them apart.

Dr. Whittaker adjusted her glasses, her face composed as always. Dr. Whittaker: “Lotta, today I’d like us to explore some memories of your life outside of recent events. Perhaps your home, your neighborhood, or times with Angela?”

The mention of Angela made Lotta’s defenses bristle. “You want to know about Angela?” Her voice was steady, defiant. “Angela was my everything. My soul twin. You wouldn’t understand.”

Dr. Whittaker: “I’d like to. I’m here to listen, Lotta. Why don’t we start with a simple memory? Tell me about a place that was special to you both.”

For a moment, Lotta’s face softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she began to remember. “The cinema, the old Cineplex downtown. I remember the popcorn was terrible, but Angela didn’t mind. , we'd always be watching Jack Sparrow movies it didn't even matter whether we've seen the movie already or not”. She let out a dry laugh. “We’d sneak in those tiny chocolate bars and always sat in the same seats, fifth row back right in the middle.”

Dr. Whittaker: “The old Cineplex?” She tilted her head slightly. “What was it like?”

Lotta’s gaze softened as she remembered. “It was old-fashioned, with that sticky carpet, red velvet seats, and movie posters on every wall. They even had this giant vintage popcorn machine by the entrance, though it barely worked. Angela and I loved the place—it felt like our secret hideaway.”

Dr. Whittaker made a note but didn’t look up. “It sounds like a special place for you both.”

Lotta nodded, her gaze faraway. “Yeah, Angela joking always said she’d run off with Jack Sparrow if he showed up one day.”

Dr. Whittaker kept her voice calm, patient. Dr. Whittaker: “How old were you when you started going to the cinema together?”

Lotta looked up sharply, her jaw set. “We were six when we were adopted, so… since then. It was our ritual.”

A silence hung in the room, heavy and charged with something unsaid. Dr. Whittaker closed her folder gently and leaned forward. Dr. Whittaker: “I did some research, Lotta. I wanted to get a sense of your background, and it's true that cinematic movies were your thing with Angela however that's not the cinema you use to go to with her infact There hasn’t been a cinema like that in your neighborhood for over twenty years.”

Lotta narrowed her eyes, her voice edgy with suspicion. “What does that mean?”
Her gaze was steady, unyielding. “It doesn’t exist, Lotta. .”

Lotta’s face fell, her eyes flashing with confusion and anger. “That’s not possible. I remember it. The posters, the sticky carpet, the smell of popcorn.” Her voice grew louder, almost desperate. “Angela and I went there all the time. We’d spend hours talking about the movies. You can’t just erase that.”

Dr. Whittaker’s voice remained calm, compassionate. Dr. Whittaker: “Memory is a complex thing, Lotta. Sometimes we hold onto images, places, even people that might feel real but aren’t based in reality.”