Chapter Forty-One - Jason Havelock
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Jason Havelock
JASON SAT ON the couch and held a mug of hot tea in his bandaged hand. Guilt consumed him, he hated the way he acted in front of Ethan. It was starting to get to a boiling point with these migraines and the attunements. Ethan had only had one session with Bellamy and he was already overwhelmed and irritable. Jason propped his socked feet on the coffee table, grabbing the book Bellamy had given him.
He examined the cover it was a plain nondescript book cover, its title, Voices Within: A Discussion of Telepathic Phenomena, embossed in faint gold letters.
He flipped through the pages idly, his eyes scanning the words but absorbing nothing. His thoughts kept drifting back to Ethan, their argument, the way Ethan looked at him at the sheer intensity of everything that unfolded at dinner. Jason remembered the taste of fear and worry that crawled up his throat watching Ethan show just an ounce of his abilities. The raw emotion that kicked up in him was somehow connected to his attunements and when escalated, the powers seemed to emerge stronger.
As Jason examined the pages, he froze. His eyes glued to the dedication page:
For Winona, whose wisdom guided me, and Isabelle, who saw more than any of us ever could. My love for you both endures beyond time.
Jason’s brow furrowed as the names stirred something in his memory. He couldn’t place it, the recollection was hazy. Winona. Isabelle. He stared at the page, the names ringing a distant bell. Something about Bellamy’s past, a rumor that students would whisper about him. He closed the book and set it on the coffee table, he leaned back and glanced at his phone.
No text from Ethan.
This was the hard part of dating his boyfriend, he wanted nothing more than to pull him into an embrace and whisper into Ethan’s ear about how sorry he was for their fight. But, Ethan needed time, he needed space.
That’s what Jason would give him.
From nowhere it hit him — something a graduate assistant had mentioned offhandedly in his freshman year when he and Ethan first started in the lab. It was a whisper, gossip, conjecture, but something about Bellamy’s tragic past.
He lost both his wife and his daughter. The assistant had brushed it aside as idle gossip, but now, starting at the book and its cryptic dedication Jason felt something pulling together. He sat up, grabbing his laptop from the table. Jason’s stomach churned. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed Bellamy’s name into the search bar, he was sure to include Harvard in the search.
At first, it was the same mundane results from his initial search, but he dug deeper— articles, profiles on psychology blogs, and a few mentions of his controversial theories. Jason scrolled and scrolled, past the polished facade, until he found a headline that made his stomach churn.
"The Tragedy of Genius: Controversial Psychologist’s Experiments on Daughter Raise Ethical Alarms "
Jason clicked the link, and the page loaded slowly, it taunted him. The article was dated decades ago, accompanied by a black-and-white photo of Bellamy, his wife, and daughter. As Jason read, his breath caught in his throat.
The administration condemns in the strongest possible terms any misuse of one’s position to exploit vulnerable individuals, especially minors. Dr. Bellamy’s conduct is under review and Harvard will cooperate with any ongoing investigations.
Jason read on, the article detailed leaked internal memos of Bellamy’s experiments involving inducing stress and sleep deprivation in his daughter, Isabelle Bellamy. Jason recoiled when learning that one memo described the use of an experimental neurostimulation device which raised concerns among Bellamy’s peers about potentially harming the child.
He leaned back on the couch, running his hands through his hair. He couldn’t believe it. Guilt erupted in his chest, he was pushing Ethan into the lion’s den. The scientist claiming to help him, conducted experiments on his own daughter. Jason’s mind raced back to his first week in Bellamy’s lab. He remembered initial tests, the strange conversations about their brain scans, and the odd way Bellamy’s assistants singled him and Ethan out. They had been told it was rare for an undergraduate to be offered research assistantships but now Jason wondered — Was it rare, or were they simply chosen?
Jason felt like a fool. In his desperation to help Ethan, he had been expertly manipulated played by Bellamy, who dangled hope in front of him. Every reassurance, every fatherly word of advice from his professor felt like a cruel joke. The texts they exchanged, Bellamy inquiring about Ethan’s health were nothing more than a ruse. Jason replayed the moments in his mind — the initial warmth in Bellamy’s office, the genuine concern, the cryptic book handed to him with a veneer of guidance and promise of answers. It had all been calculated.
How had Jason not seen it sooner? Bellamy had a way of speaking that drew you in, and made you believe he had the answers. He is supposed to be a respected researcher and psychologist. Jason wanted so badly to believe that he could help Ethan. He wanted someone to understand that Ethan had no one but Jason. Bellamy wasn’t a savior, he was a predator.
He clenched his fists, his nail bit into his palm as anger surged through him. How could he have missed the signs? The long stares Bellamy gave Ethan, the probing questions disguised as curiosity, the unsettling focus and glee on Ethan’s abilities. And the books — Jason’s eyes drifted to the nondescript books. It taunted him, he knew what was on those pages. An admission of guilt, Jason didn’t need to read it to know the awful and vile things Bellamy had done to his daughter all for the sake of “science.”
Jason grabbed the book from the coffee table, his instincts screamed he needed to find Ethan. That Bellamy wasn’t just eccentric or obsessed, but that he was dangerous. With Ethan’s emerging attunements, Jason had played right into Bellamy’s sick twisted game.
Jason paced the living room, his anger bubbling into a fury he couldn’t contain. He had been so focused on protecting Ethan from himself that he failed to protect him from Bellamy. He stopped pacing and glanced out the window. How far had Bellamy already gone? What was he planning to do to Ethan? And most importantly, how could Jason fix it before it was too late?
I have to protect him.
He stood up from the couch, grabbed his phone, he dialed Ethan’s number.
It rang and rang, but went to voice mail.
He tried once more.
Voicemail.
He slipped his shoes back on and grabbed a heavy coat, he needed to find Ethan.
But where would he have gone? As he stepped out of their apartment, he stalked down the steps, his heavy footsteps clanging down the iron staircase.
She jumped from the bell tower.
Then it occurred to Jason, the nightmares Ethan has had for the last few weeks. The girl who has been haunting him in his dreams. She jumped from the bell tower, he walked faster — willing his legs to move. The muscles flexed against the cold air.
“I have to get to the bell tower before it’s too late.”