67 OPHELIA CLARK
November 29
“Please let me go. You’re scaring me,” I pleaded, as I struggled to pull my wrist free from Dr. Charlotte’s powerful grip. The wooded trail was getting darker by the minute, and there was no one else in sight. No one to hear me scream for help. I fought her and tugged as best I could. We struggled, but she overpowered me. I might as well have been a rag doll.
Dr. Charlotte grabbed my neck with both hands, straining the chain holding the covellite stone. She thrashed me and, as I gasped for air, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I started seeing images in my mind’s eye. Flash. A smiling young woman with a 50s pin-curl hairdo dressed in a tight-fitting sweater, pencil skirt, and low heels. She stood arm-in-arm with a clean-cut man in an army uniform o
