A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

There’s more urgency about getting your memories back. The lady
cop doesn’t come right out and say it, but she thinks hypnosis is
bullshit. But Dad looked into it and said that if they can relax you
enough, you might just remember something your mind has been
keeping from you.
The night before the hypnosis, we’re all getting ready for bed.
You’re in your bedroom, Dad’s in his. From the hall, I hear you
making noise in your room. I wonder what you’re up to in there. I go
to see. You’re not so hesitant when you open the door, like maybe
you’re getting the hang of Dad and me.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, looking around. The lights in
the room are off.
“Nothing,” you say. You’re sheepish. You don’t want to tell me.
“You must be doing something.”
“It’s something stupid,” you say.
“Like what?”
“Just a game I play.”
“What’s it called?” I ask.
“It don’t really have a name.”
“How do you play it?”
You don’t want to. But you show me, anyway, after a while of me
begging. You think I’m going to make fun of you for it. I don’t.
Instead, I play your game with you. It’s not super dark in your room
because of a light from down the hall. So you close the bedroom
door, trapping both you and me inside. Still, it’s not black. Outside
your window the moon is bright.
“It’s better when you can’t see nothing,” you tell me.
“Why’s it better?” I ask.
“It just is. That’s how the game is played. We got to close our
eyes,” you say, to make up for the lack of blackness. You tell me to
keep my hands at my sides. “It’s cheating,” you say, “if you feel with
your hands first.”
We stand with our backs to one wall. The object of the game, you
tell me, is to be the one to get closest to the opposite wall without
running into it. We can’t use our hands.
I try. I fail. I feel like a fish out of water trying to walk with my eyes
closed. I can’t even walk in a straight line. I plow into the bed frame