A HORRIFIC RECURRING NIGHTMARE IS THREATENING TO STEAL HER SANITYโฆ
Dr. Corinne Cabot is living the American dream. Sheโs a successful ER physician in Chicago whoโs married to a handsome husband. Together they live in a charming house in the suburbs. But appearances can be deceivingโand what no one can see is Corinneโs dark past. Troubling gaps in her memory mean she recalls little about a haunting event in her life years ago that changed everything.
She remembers only being in the house the night two people were found murdered. Her father was there, too. Now her father is in prison; she hasnโt been in contact in years. Repressing that terrifying memory has caused Corinne moments of paranoia and panic. Sometimes she thinks she sees things that arenโt there, hears words that havenโt been spoken. Or have they? She fears she may be losing her mind, unable to determine whatโs real and whatโs not.
So when she senses her husbandโs growing distance, she thinks sheโs imagining things. She writes her suspicions off to fatigue, overwork, anything to explain what she canโt acceptโthat her life reallyย isnโtย what it seems.
SUCH DARK THINGS by Courtney Evan Tate, whom you may know as Courtney Cole, expresses her darker side in a fast-moving psychological suspense about a woman with a fracturing sanity. 35-year-old Corinne Cabot feels a growing distance from her husband and is troubled by the double murder she witnessed years ago, resulting in the incarceration of her father. She’s blocked the terrible memory, but now, she thinks she sees things, hears things… or could it all be real?
I’m so excited to share an excerpt from the novel, out March 20th.
My skin is sticky with blood.
My waistband is wet with it, and I can taste it on my lips. Itโs splattered on my face, and it tastes like metal that has been rotting in the sun and rain for a hundred years. The night makes me shiver, the cool breeze rustling my hair, and for a split second, Iโm back there in that house, standing in that blood. My bare toes feel the warmth of the liquid turn cool as the minutes tick past.
Goose bumps raise on my neck, and a knot that I canโt swallow is lodged in my throat. My feet are frozen frozen frozen on the ground, and I canโt move.
Their eyes are open and lifeless, although they stare at me.
They see me.
Yet they see nothing.
I canโt breathe.
My lips are ice, just like theirs.
My heart is pounding and racing and stuttering, and I canโt breathe I canโt breathe I canโt breathe.
โCorinne. Youโre safe here. Corinne.โ
And just like that, Iโm not there.
Iโm here.
โThere was blood all over me.โ My words are stilted and fragile, like glass.
I stare at my hand, and even though itโs clean now, I see it as it was seventeen years ago, covered in the blood of two soulsโฆsouls that were living and that arenโt anymore. Itโs hard to wrap my mind around. First they were breathing, and then they werenโt. It happened in a split second. I inhale shakily.
โThink about that moment,โ the doctor instructs. โWho can you see?โ
I think on that. โMelanie is next to me on the floor. Her head is bleeding into a pool. There is so much blood that it looks black.โ I close my eyes, because it had been the first time Iโd seen blood like that, and it terrified me. โJoe is on the bed. His blood is splattered all over the wall. Both of them have their eyes open.โ
Staring at me.
The emotions welling up in me are like a wave, swelling, swelling, swellingโฆuntil I canโt handle it anymore. The horror and the guilt and the pain are just too much.
โI canโt do this,โ I blurt out. โIโm done for the day.โ
Dr. Phillips looks at me, and heโs calm and detached.
โCorinne, why are you here?โ
I pause. What a stupid question. โYou know why Iโm here.โ
I hate it when they treat me with such condescension.
โHumor me,โ he tells me. โWhy are you here?โ
I grit my teeth and look away.
He waits.
โYouโre saying that I tried to hurt myself. But I wouldnโt do that.โ
I look at him now, and heโs so fucking emotionless. I look down at my left wrist, at the bandage covering up the stiches.
โI wouldnโt,โ I insist again. โIโm a fucking physician. I wouldnโt have cut my wrist horizontally. If I really wanted to hurt myself, I wouldโve known to cut vertically along the vein.โ
I finger the gauze. Beneath it, the cut throbs, evidence of something I donโt remember doing.
โIโm not crazy,โ I add. And I donโt know if Iโm trying to convince Dr. Phillips, or myself.
โYouโre not crazy.โ He nods. โBut youโve experienced a mental break. Youโre here because you need to deal with the causal underlying issue so that it wonโt happen again. Right?โ
Heโs a fucking asshole.
I stare at the wall. At the whiteness, at the sterility.
โYou need some plants in here,โ I tell him, avoiding the question. โGreenery puts patients at ease. All this blanknessโฆitโs maddening.โ
โIโll keep that in mind,โ he says wryly. โCorinneโฆโ
I interrupt. โDr. Cabot,โ I tell him. โIโve earned it.โ
โDr. Cabot,โ he corrects himself. โYouโre right. Youโve earned it. You worked a long time to finish medical school and your residency. Youโre a top ER physician. You have a life envied by everyone around you. Youโve got to take care of yourself, so you can protect this life youโve built.โ
I close my eyes. Behind my eyelids, itโs dark and safe. Itโs black and warm.
โProtect it from what?โ I whisper.
โYou tell me,โ he answers. โYouโve got something inside of you that is triggered now, something that creates panic and a fight-or-flight response. We know what your father did so long ago. What we donโt know is whyโฆor what damage it has caused in you, damage that seems to be affecting you now.โ
โI donโt know either,โ I say helplessly, my eyes opening to the white walls again. โI canโt remember. I never could. You know that.โ
โI know.โ Dr. Phillips nods again, and he tries to be so fucking comforting. โYou have a history of dissociative behavior. You blocked out what your father did so long ago, and it stands to reason that your brain has developed that as a defense mechanism. Itโs doing it again now. If we donโt get to the bottom of why your memories are being triggered now, after all of these yearsโฆyouโll never have peace. Do we agree on that?โ
Reluctantly, I nod.
โSo we have to start at the beginning. You have to stay here and focus.โ
Anger flares in me, red and hot, and I stare him down. He doesnโt blink and neither do I.
โFocus?โ I ask him, and my words are sharp and I wish they would cut him. โYou think itโs as simple as sitting down and focusing? How dare you sit there and tell me what to do, when you have no idea what itโs like?โ
I stand up to leave, but the psychiatristโs next sentence holds me in my place, freezing me.
โCorinne, you promised Jude youโd try.โ
Jude.
My beautiful, understanding Jude.
I swallow hard. I did promise. And I have to follow through, even though the pain it causes me is immeasurable. I owe it to him. Iโll do it for him. Not for this psychiatrist, but for Jude.
My body folds back into the seat, and I finger the medical bracelet circling my right wrist. Corinne Elizabeth Cabot, Female. Itโs me, condensed into one stark sentence, yet Iโm a stranger to myself right now. Thatโs why Iโm here. I donโt know myself or my thoughts. My memories are foreign, blocked, nightmarish, out of control.
โFine.โ Thereโs nothing else I can say.
Dr. Phillips is quietly triumphant. โLetโs begin again. Take a deep breath and close your eyes.โ
I do, drawing the cool air in a rush over my teeth, expanding my lungs and holding it, before I let it slowly exhale. I do it again, then again.
โThink back to that night, Dr. Cabot. Stand in that room. Tell me where your father is.โ
I envision it, I see it in my mind like it was yesterday. My father in his bloody steel-toed boots. โHeโs on the porch, waiting for the police to come.โ
โHe left you alone in the house with two dead bodies?โ
โYes.โ
โHe didnโt try to run?โ
โNo.โ
โOkay. What did you do then?โ my doctor asks me calmly, unfazed by the ugliness of my story.
โI was stunned. I think I was in shock. My hand was bleeding.โ
Dr. Phillips looks at my hand, because Iโm stroking the scar now, an unconscious nervous tic that I often do when Iโm anxious. โWhat happened to your hand?โ
โI donโt remember.โ
โIs there a lot that you donโt remember from that night?โ
โYes. You know that.โ
โYes, I do,โ he acknowledges. โSo youโre standing in the middle of a bloody crime scene because your father left you alone. What did you do then, Corinne?โ
โI looked out the window,โ I tell him. โI was frozen. I couldnโt move. My feet felt like concrete and I was afraid if I moved, my heart would explode. So I took deep breaths. I watched the trick-or-treaters walking by. I looked at the blood on my shoe. I looked at the jack-oโ-lanterns that were lit on porches, and the ghosts hanging in the trees. There was a full moon. There was light on my shoulders.โ
โAnything else?โ
โI stared at the street sign on the corner. All Hallows Lane.โ
โThatโs ironic,โ the doctor points out needlessly.
โYes.โ
โHow long did you stand there?โ His question is quiet.
โUntil they came and took me away.โ
On Instagram
vilmairisblog
๐ป: marketing director at @dell
โ๏ธ: books + beauty + style + life
๐ฌ: @sugarrushcharms - Next drop ๐ soon!
๐๐ป: Read my blog + shop my IG + charms