by Ronnie Allen
“What am I doing?”
“Don’t beat me. I can’t take it when you beat me.”
“I’m not going to beat you. You’re safe. What’s my name?”
She cried hysterically. “Bill. No. You’re Kenny. No, Thomas. I don’t know which one. Don’t send me away again. Please, just don’t send me away!” She sweated. Her heart palpitated. Her eyes looked frenzied--pupils bulged--but she stared coldly, blank, and non-perceptive of the present reality. She was somewhere else, somewhere in her deeply troubled past.
“What’s your name, little girl?” John grasped onto his intuition and it paid off.
“Kellie.”
“Kellie what?” He was not surprised the he’d gotten something.
“Kellie Wilson.” She gasped for air, hyperventilating. Her body was hot, her gown saturated with her own sweat.
He had uncovered enough for now and didn’t want to torture her. Surely, she’d had enough, so he’d use the snippet of information she let out, but he knew restraining her was necessary. John covered her with the sheets, leaned over her, and placed his hands on her shoulders as she still struggled to get free.
He then removed his right hand from her shoulder and held her face, forcing her to look eye-to-eye with him. “STOP IT!” he yelled, right into her face, and it worked.
He’d taught patients to use STOP IT therapy for panic attacks, but they said it to themselves. With an occurrence like this, he had to say it. She looked at him, quivering, with fear in her eyes. She was quiet and still, but continued to hyperventilate. At least for now it worked to bring her back to the present.
Calmly and compassionately, he moved his right hand onto her chest right over the bronchial tubes and, after a couple of minutes, the warmth from his hand slowed down and normalized her breathing.
“Barbara, look at me.” She clamped her eyes shut. “Barbara, now--look--at--me. Come on, look at me.”
She opened her eyes a sliver. He moved her face so they were eye to eye. She didn’t fight.
“Good girl. Barbara, listen to me.” She opened her eyes fully. “I not only took an oath to do no harm, but also to dare to care. So If I have to be aggressive to help you, I will. Now after they take the blood, I’ll take these off, Okay?” She let out a scared moan, which he interpreted as an affirmative response. “Good, very good. Turn your left arm over and let them do their job. Take some deep breaths and look at me.”
This time, she allowed him to move her arm. Exhaustion and fright had weakened her. A tech put a tourniquet around her upper arm, prepared the butterfly needle, and approached her.
“Just a little poke, a little one.” She winced at the needle’s insertion. “Come on,” John said. “That doesn’t hurt.”
“Yes, it does. Is it over yet?”
“No. Don’t think about it.” John needed to keep her attention on him. “Tell me when were you restrained?”
“Never.”
John pushed to get her to remember in the present. “No. I don’t buy it. Only someone restrained under horrible conditions would react with such extreme anxiety as you did. What happened to you?”
She whined again. He stared at her with a determined look and remained silent. He would continue to stare until she had realized he wouldn’t let up. He would reach the emotions she had buried deep within her core for a long time.
“Go to hell!”
Her hostile response was the confirmation he wanted, that she was, indeed, cognizant of what she shrouded.
The techs finished and removed the tourniquet.
“Thank you.”
“Sure thing, Doc.” They quickly left the room.
“Get these off me now.”
“Not until you calm down and your vitals normalize. And I bet you can do it consciously. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you. Take some deep breaths. Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth.”
After a few minutes of compliance, he used the stethoscope to check her heart rate. Still erratic.
“A little better. A little while longer to calm down. Then I’ll get you a new gown, and you can take a shower. There’s plenty of soap and shampoo in the bathroom, and I’ll have an attendant change the sheets. You got everything soaked. Okay?”
“Yes. I’m all right now. Please take these off. See? I could never do an MRI.”
“Yes, you could. I’ll give you a little Valium, and it’ll calm you enough. But not until I get the blood test results back. I’ll take these off now, but don’t you dare take a swing at me.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Yeah, you told me that before. I see how good your word is. You may be in charge in school, but you’re not in charge here. I mean it. It would be in your best interests to control these tantrums.” He removed the left hand restraint and anticipated an aggressive reaction. None. Then the left leg. None. Then the right leg. None. And lastly, the right arm. Also none. He relaxed and sat down on the chair. “Want to tell me anything?”
“Yeah. I feel sorry for your wife.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re one tough bastard.”
“Yes. I am. And I could also do without the foul mouth. But I was thinking more in terms of what you don’t want me to find in your blood.”
“All right! You’ll find it anyway. I used coke this morning before I met with Carlson. I’ve met with him about six times and have spoken and met with those other two, and they all get me so nervous. They laughed at me and treated me like an incompetent female. They have a badge, so they think it gives them balls. I needed something to calm me down. I’m not addicted. I’m not going through withdrawal or anything.”
“But it didn’t calm you down. Did it? It put you so on edge, you went into a rage and attacked three cops. So what’s the purpose?” He got up. “Look up at me.” He checked her nose. “No coke residue here. Open your mouth.” He checked the inside of her cheeks. “None there. So where?”
She looked away.
“Forget it. I just made it up to get you off my back. So now what? Are you going to drug me up to the gills like other shrinks until I cooperate?”
“What’s been your experience with psychiatrists?”
“None personal.”
Her aura shouted to him.
Big lie. Okay.
“With some of my children at school.”
“Nah,” he said. “Not with me. I’m the talking shrink. No chemical straightjacket from me.”
“That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“Statistically, the drugs do more harm than good. I’ll do a lot to you but without drugs.”
“Bring it!”
“You have a dirty mind.” He pointed to his ring. “Married. Commitment. All right. Here’s the way it’s going to work. If I find cocaine in the toxicology report, I’m personally giving you an internal. Enough with the lying. Now anything else you didn’t want me to find out?”
“I had a hysterectomy ten years ago. That will show up with hormones, right?”
“Yes. Why a hysterectomy?”
“I had extensive fibroids and some polyps, everything was benign, and I don’t want kids anyway.”
“Anything else?”
“No. I just feel so filthy. I desperately need that shower.”
“I’ll take care of that. You’ll have enough time and privacy, but if you stay in there too long, attendants will come in.”
“How will they know?”
“You’re in an observation room. Everything that is done, except in the bathroom, is recorded and seen at the nurse’s station.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“No, I am not. This is a seventy-two hour observation room. Go take your shower and, while you’re in there, an attendant will change your sheets and make the bed comfortable for you.”
He exhaled in exhaustion, exiting the room, relieved that it was over, but knowing he hadn’t scratched the surface with her. He exhaled several times to expel her neg
ative energy and leaned against the wall, trying to regain his composure, while he contemplated the seriousness of what had just transpired. He could just imagine what she was holding onto and how much pain she’d endured. He put his hands into his lab coat pockets. His left hand wrapped around a black tourmaline log he used to deflect negativity. It had worked overtime the last hour. In his right pocket, he felt the malachite tumbled stone broken in two with parts crumbled into the lining of his pocket.
Oh, man. She really is dangerous.
He had heard of malachite breaking when the wearer was in a dangerous situation, but this was the first time it had actually happened to him. He glanced up at the ceiling.
Thanks for the heads up.
***
Barbara sat up and stared out the window. She saw nothing though the frosted glass.
I’ve got to get out of here. What if he finds out? What if he doesn’t stop? And from the looks of that bastard, he won’t. I know. So what if I lose my job? I’m skipping the country anyway, after I get rid of that Clancy bum. I’ll let him give me the internal. Force him to make me climax. Then press charges for sex abuse. When he’s suspended and loses his license, I’ll be out by then. I’ll get out on a technicality. Improper medical procedure or something. I’ll hunt him down, kill his wife and kids right in front of him, and then I’ll kill him. What pleasure I’ll have watching him die. It’ll be so worth it for what he’s putting me through.
***
Inside his office, Morgan anxiously dialed the phone, as Steve looked over a file sitting at the luxury desk.
“Barbara, where the hell are you?” Morgan demanded when he got no answer. He turned to Steve. “I haven’t been able to get through to her.”
“Call her school.”
“She hasn’t shown up there either.” Morgan stood, still holding the handset, and paced back and forth, staring out the window facing Park Avenue.
“So she took a vacation for a few days. What’s the big deal?”
“No way, and leave her precious clinic?”
“I thought you didn’t like her.”
“I don’t. But my board put through her donation at twice the amount, right after I ended the meeting. At that rate, I’ll go broke! And you--you made me buy a new car!”
“Hold on. I didn’t make you do anything. She told me she would go public if you didn’t make good on this, and you can’t afford--”
Morgan dialed again. “Any publicity, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t deserve a single dime of my money.”
CHAPTER 18
John dreaded having to go to therapy more than he had ever dreaded anything in his life, lately. The thought of having to open up to a stranger about issues he had under control and to give up his dominance was daunting.
His blood pressure was higher than normal. John sensed the tension around his chest. He had armored himself and deliberately shut down, and had no intention of allowing hurt feelings to surface if he could help it. This mere psychologist wasn’t going to unravel him. He would have to do intense bodywork tonight to loosen up after what he faced now.
Hesitating, he entered the warm and welcoming light-brown, vinyl-paneled office of Dr. Burt Landers, PhD in clinical psychology. The receptionist greeted him. Right away, John focused on her personal appearance. He stared at the matronly woman who was probably in her late sixties, though she looked much older due to her ill-fitting clothing. Her blouse was a couple of sizes too big for her, and the once-vibrant colors had faded from multiple laundering. Overall, the office lacked the professionalism he respected.
“Hello, Dr. Trenton. Dr. Landers will see you now. Right through there.”
“Thank you.” John stopped for a moment and knocked on the door, before he changed his mind and tried to manufacture a reason to leave.
“Come in.”
John opened the door and was not pleased with what he encountered, an elderly man in his late sixties, bald, short, and stout, with critical looking eyes. He realized, right then and there, from the doctor’s intense look that he couldn’t act foolishly or there would be repercussions from the department. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. Carlson had done it to him again and the anger festered.
“Come and sit down, Dr. Trenton.”
Landers extended his hand, and John shook it, smirking at the rather weak grip.
“What can I help you with Dr. Trenton?”
John sat back in the chair, stiff and on guard. “Did Lieutenant Carlson tell you anything?”
I’ll be out of here in a minute. This guy’s a wimp.
“No, why don’t you?”
“I don’t know why he wants me to see you. I’m fine, really. We had a hostage situation at the hospital. The hostage-taker is a patient of mine, and I knew I’d be able to handle it.” John was overconfident. “I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, so I refused to let the ESU go in. I don’t know why Carlson is making such a big deal over it. I’ve debriefed my staff. They know not to let this happen again. The patient is locked away at Rikers’ mental health building, awaiting indictment for five counts of murder, as he should. I’ve done this in more dangerous situations before, and I’ve never had to see someone, so I really do not need to waste anymore of your time.” He prepared to leave, bolstering himself up with his arms on the chair.
Landers gave him a stern look. “Sit down, John.”
John shot him an unappreciative glare in return.
Landers didn’t back down. “This is a mandatory hour.”
John complied and sat back down.
“Now what else is going on?” Landers asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” After two minutes of silence, John caved. None of his self-armoring protected him now. He did have a lot to get off his chest. He’d admitted it to Carlson. Slumping back in the chair, he swallowed hard. “My wife left me and went back to Florida. It was the same day as the hostage situation.”
“That’s a lot of stress for one day.”
“Yes, it sure is. And I haven’t spoken to Vicki in two weeks. I’m worried. She won’t answer my texts, or calls. I spoke with my mother who told me she was okay but depressed. And that I should give her some time.”
“So how are you handling it?”
“I’m worried about her but managing.”
“You don’t look like you’re managing,” Landers observed. “You look like a man who’s gone through a battle with himself and lost. The wrinkles in your forehead probably deepened the last couple of weeks.”
John looked away from Landers for a moment and groaned.
Landers sighed. “I’m sure you tell your patients that if they’re not honest, they’re not going to get what they should out of a session. Same goes for you.”
“Not so. My patients are sociopaths, psychopaths, and psychotics. They haven’t had an honest thought in years.”
“All the more reason for you to be honest with yourself. Why did she leave?”
“Vicki didn’t like the city life.”
“Maybe on the surface. What goes deeper?” More silence. “John, if you’re going to be successful in your marriage you need to confront your own demons, too.”
John felt his inner wall cracking. “I pushed her away.”
“How did you push her away?”
John hated talking about this. It was painful to acknowledge his part in it, and he became anxious. He twisted his wedding band around his finger and fidgeted in the seat. “I acted like a child the day after she left, and I told her I didn’t want children which is the furthest thing from the truth. I was just so upset that she’d left. I was always the rock, and she’d never seen me so vulnerable. She must’ve thought I was just mean-spirited, which I’m not.”
“What else pushed her away? Your blow up was the culmination. What led to it?”
“I made too many demands and had too many expectations. I expected her to like my life style, the parties, going out, my social sphere.”
“And you got disappointed when s
he didn’t?”
“Yes.”
“What do you miss?”
“The way she took care of me, the way she stood up to me, the dinners, the camaraderie, someone to go home to at night, the sex--the sex was fabulous. I love everything about her.”
“Tell me about the sex.”
“Now that’s personal.”
“You brought it up. I don’t mean the details. What made her better than the others?”
“The doctors, lawyers, were stiff, rigid, no energy flow. There wasn’t that wild excitement, that willingness for new exploration.”
“I didn’t ask you about the others. I asked you about Vicki.”
“You really want me to address this, don’t you?” John was silent for a minute. “Why?” He was silent for a longer minute. “Sex is a very important part of my life. I knew I was going to marry her our first night together. I’d been looking for this a long time. Her warmth, her innocence, her energy, her nurturance, openness, even her stubbornness--we were both in sync. She didn’t have any armors built up. We could go on for hours. She and I consumed each other. Our libidos were completely satisfied with each other.”
“Armors. That’s right. Now I know where I heard your name before. You’re the forensic psychiatrist who uses Orgone Therapy with schizophrenics.”
“It’s Medical Orgone Therapy and that’s right. And quite successfully at times, without having to resort to medication. That, in combination with proper nutrition, enables the body to do wonders healing itself.”