Wild Wood by Posie Graeme-evans

left side. “So, deep breath, and hold it. . . . Good. And again.” Eyes unfocused, he listens to her chest. “Excellent. Now, we’ll do the same for your back to check lung function.” He waits without fuss while she pulls up the back of her shirt and gives him a nod when she’s ready. She rates him for that.
    Rory taps Jesse’s back in several places, efficient but not perfunctory. “Absolutely all clear. We worry about problems with lungs after prolonged bed rest. But you’re young and fit and healthy. Excellent outcome. So, just temperature, pulse, and eyes to go. Not long, I promise.” Rory holds up the thermometer encouragingly. She is a fit girl, and well put together—long legs, small waist, wide shoulders. Pretty, too, with an open face and striking eyes. Rory smiles faintly. A doctor can still be a man.
    “Funny, am I?” Jesse wills herself to remain calm as he slides the little glass stick under her tongue and picks up her wrist.
    “Me, I’m lousy at telling jokes. No sense of timing.” Rory concentrates on her pulse.
    They’re so close, Jesse can feel him breathe, hear the sound as air moves in and out of his nostrils. It occurs to her that she’s with a man she hardly knows, in a small room in a hospital where she’s a name on top of a list of injuries and little else. Even her parents don’t know where she is. If she disappeared, it might be days or weeks before— Stop this!
    “Something wrong?” Rory looks up.
    She forces herself to speak. “Imagination, that’s all. It’s a riot in here.” She taps her skull.
    “You don’t have to be brave, Jesse. And it’s okay to be vulnerable. We both want to get at the truth of what’s happened to you.”
    She mutters, “ Happening , you mean.”
    Rory nods. “Yes, happening, and it’s making you anxious every time you think about it. Maybe too anxious to actually help yourself get well.” He’s watching her.
    “What does that mean?”
    “What if I said there was a way I could help you deal with all the worry?”
    “Not more pills!” Jesse scrambles to sit up. “Because I’ve had enough of drugs and—”
    He shakes his head, amused. “Not pills. Hypnosis. It can take you into a very deep state of relaxation. I’ll be able to ask you challenging questions and you’ll be able to answer without becoming upset.”
    Jesse looks at him pityingly. “I’m immune, trust me. I used to bite my nails, and Mum”—there’s a self-conscious pause—“well, I had a couple of sessions. It was crap.”
    He smiles. “Most people think that. So what happened?”
    “Oh. Well, I just stopped chewing them naturally. Growing up, I suppose.” Jesse resists glancing at her nails; she likes them long these days. “I’m not suggestible. Truly.”
    He nods. “But you’re not, what, fifteen anymore?”
    She can’t help it. She grins. The man is good.
    “I wouldn’t suggest hypnosis if I didn’t have faith it would help. I think you’re blocking things you can’t explain, and that’s driving fear you can’t deal with or really acknowledge. Rational people can be like that, but it makes the unknown worse when that scaffolding gets kicked out from under.”
    “Right. And I never would have guessed.” Jesse frets at her bottom lip. Does she want to do this? “Will you keep me in the hospital if I don’t agree?”
    Rory leans forward, his hands on his knees. “Jesse, you have the right to sign yourself out at any time. But , I have an absolute duty to help make you well; that is, to assist in your progress to the full extent of my training and knowledge. And that is what I intend to do if you will let me do it. Your situation is”—he searches for the word—“unusual. To treat you best I need more information than, perhaps, conventional diagnostics and treatment will provide. X-rays only give us so much. And I think you want to know what’s happening to your mind as much as I do.” He lets that sink in, and when she says