The Body Never Forgets

The room had no windows. Bare walls closed in around them, blank and unyielding. No pictures. No clocks. Nothing to catch the eye or distract the mind. In the center, Ella lay on a chaise lounge. Beatrice and Aiden sat beside her, their chairs positioned close on one side. A lone lamp glowed from a distant corner, casting their features in shifting planes of light and shadow. It was the kind of room you tried to forget the moment you left—but never could.

Beatrice’s voice was low, each syllable sinking deeper, as if slipping into some unseen current.

“I’m going to count backward from five to one,” she said. “With every number, let yourself drift deeper… back to your earliest memory in this life. When I reach one, tell me the first thing you see.”

She began counting, slow and deliberate. “Five… four… three…”

Ella’s breath grew shallow. The edges of the room blurred, colors bleeding into shadow.

“Two… one…”

Beatrice’s voice slipped away—a fading whisper beneath rising silence. For a moment, Ella couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. The room was gone.

“I’m hiding under a bed. I’m scared,” Ella’s voice cracked, thin and childlike.

“Why scared?”

“I stole a cupcake Mom bought for Dad’s birthday. We were supposed to surprise him after dinner. She told me not to touch it.”

“How old are you?”

“Six.”

“How are things with your parents?”

Ella swallowed. “I love them, and they love me. No doubt. But I’m always hiding bad food from them.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Ashamed.”

“Why ashamed?”

“Because I’m not supposed to do it. Because I’m a bad girl.” 

“Who made you feel that way?”

Ella shook her head. 

“Did your parents?” 

“No… no… I don’t know.” 

            “It’s okay not to know,” Beatrice said gently, leaning closer. Her voice felt both near and far, like an echo down a long corridor. “Now let’s go deeper. Past your childhood. Past this life.”

Ella’s eyelids twitched. Her fingers trembled against the armchair. 

“I’m going to count backward from five to one. Let my voice guide you—back to where the sugar addiction began,” Beatrice said softly. “Remember, you’re revisiting where it all began. When I reach one, tell me what you see.”

She began to count. 

“Five…” Ella’s eyelids fluttered, flickering like candlelight.

“Four…” Her fingers stilled, gripping the armrest.

“Three…” Her chest rose sharply,

“Two…”  , then fell slowly and unevenly.

 “...One.”

Silence.

Beatrice waited. A minute passed. Then another. Still, Ella said nothing.

“Ella, what are you seeing?”

No answer.

Aiden shifted nervously, glancing at Beatrice. “Should we stop? She’s not responding,” he whispered.

Beatrice held up a finger to silence him, eyes fixed on Ella.

Ella stirred, a fleeting shiver running through her. Her head tilted slightly, as if straining to hear something just beyond reach. A light sheen of sweat dampened her forehead. Then, in a voice barely more than a breath, she said, “It’s... so... lush.”

A crease formed between Beatrice’s brows—part curiosity, part calculation.

“What’s so lush? Where are you?” 

“In a beautiful garden... it’s… so…beautiful.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“Love... love. I love everything around me.” Ella’s face turned serene, like a mother seeing her newborn for the first time.

“What’s around you?”

“Trees. Lovely fruit trees. And...a red fruit…..a red apple. I’m eating it. It’s delicious.”

“What else do you see? Who’s there?”

Ella’s serenity collapsed into a frown. Her fingers dug into the armrest like claws, white-knuckled. Aiden leaned forward, eyes sharp, searching her face for the words she wouldn’t say.

“The serpent…” she shook her head, as if trapped in a nightmare. “…it slithers toward me.”

     “How do you feel?” Beatrice asked.

     Ella’s body convulsed as she mumbled, “Scared….very scared.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t supposed to eat the apple. It was forbidden.”

“Who said it was forbidden?”

Ella’s lips moved, but only faint, muddled sounds came out, as if the words were fighting their way up from somewhere deep.

“I don’t know... maybe a higher power. I don’t know. I just know I’ve done something very bad.” Tears slid down her cheeks. 

“I’ve never seen her cry. Are you sure we should keep going?” Aiden whispered to Beatrice.

“Let her cry,” Beatrice said quietly. “It’s part of the healing.”

“It’s not fair.” Ella’s hands pressed hard into the armrests. Blaming me for the wanting. For the hunger. For reaching toward what made me their equal.”

Beatrice stayed silent, her face unreadable.

Tears streaked down Ella’s face. “I was only eating the apple. Just curious. But they punish me for it. I’ll get my revenge.”

Beatrice leaned in.“You’re right—it wasn’t fair. That’s why, in this life, your revenge comes in the form of food.”

Ella’s shoulders trembled. Her mouth moved, but the words didn’t come out.

“The past won’t change,” Beatrice said, her voice steady. “But you choose what to carry forward. I’ll count to five. Each number brings you back—not to forget, but to begin again.

Free of shame. Free of revenge.”

                                                             ****    

Beatrice sat behind her desk with her hands folded calmly in front of her. Across from her, Ella and Aiden sat close, their shoulders just shy of touching. Ella held a damp tissue in one hand; the other worked at the base of her neck in slow circles, as though trying to smooth out something deeper than muscle.

The office felt quieter, the afternoon light softer than when they’d first sat down.

“I don’t even believe that Eve ever existed,” Ella said.

A smile played at Beatrice’s lips, but her eyes remained intent. “Maybe she was a metaphor. Or maybe she wasn’t just one woman,” 

Ella stared at Beatrice’s face. As if searching for answers. “If she did exist... wouldn’t every woman be a reincarnation of her? 

“Not necessarily. You see, after death, the soul — a kind of consciousness — moves on, transferring to other beings. Over time, souls evolve. Some souls remain close to the original. Others shift so much they become something entirely new.”

Aiden tapped his knee—once, then again. His jaw tightened as he stared at Ella and Beatrice, like he was waiting for one of them to admit they were joking.

“Why would I remember any of it?”

“Maybe your mind tunes into older signals—frequencies most people can’t hear.”

            Ella clenched the tissue and sat up straighter. “And…how does forbidden fruit turn into sugar now?”

            “It’s like a cosmic game of telephone, where the original meaning gets warped. What begins as a symbol might resurface in another form. Sugar gets labeled as ‘bad,’ something to resist or avoid. Maybe it’s the same energy, just in a different guise. There’s some playfulness in the universe. It’s not all chaos.”

            Ella stayed silent, watching the calm in Beatrice’s eyes.

            “I know it’s a lot to take in,” Beatrice said gently. “But there’s no pressure to believe anything. Just notice how your body responds after the session.”

“Thank you, Beatrice,” Ella said, rising to her feet.

Beatrice and Aiden stood with her. 

            “If there’s one thing to remember today, let it be this: your sugar addiction was a quiet rebellion beneath the surface. But that battle is behind you now. There’s no forbidden food here—only what nourishes your body and brings you joy.”

Ella nodded, but her eyes stayed unconvinced. 

As they walked toward the exit, Aiden turned to Beatrice, his voice tentative—uncharacteristically so.

            “Strange question, but… does that make me Adam?”

            Beatrice’s eyes fixed on him a moment, narrowing thoughtfully. “Not necessarily. The people we meet can change throughout our lives. But if you felt bored and useless before meeting her, then maybe you were Adam.” A mischievous smile spread across her face. “And if she’s the best thing that ever happened to you, then you were definitely Adam,” she said, her head tipping back as a raw, full-throated laugh erupted.

Aiden blinked, lips parting in a half-smile— caught somewhere between intrigue and caution.