FicWad

“Bob?” Lisa began tentatively.
“I’m sorry.”

The words were spoken automatically, but he silently cursed himself as the tremor in his voice gave away the depth of the emotion he so desperately wanted to hide. Rubbing his eyes self-consciously, Bob nodded as he made a concerted effort to pull himself together. Deep down, he knew that it was perfectly acceptable to show fears and troubles to a therapist. He also knew that it didn’t make him less of a man to cry and let his feelings out. But even knowing all these things, his own very guarded nature, refused to allow him to show what he saw as weakness. He had convinced himself that he should be able to cope. That statement was based on nothing but supposition and wishful thinking, but it was easier to accept than the admission that he couldn’t cope.

“I’m all right,” he finally replied, unconvincingly.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said kindly. “It’s part of what I’m here for.”
“It can’t be much of a job, watching a grown man cry.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, he jerked his head up sharply to look directly at her and struggled with his next words.

“I… I’m sorry! That came out all wrong! I didn’t mean… I mean… you do a great job. It just… it can’t be much fun for you.”

Bob physically sagged as he finally looked away from her; the silence between them making him feel awkward and foolish.

“You… you must think I’m pathetic.”
“No, no, not at all,” Lisa leaned forward and gently placed her hand over his. “I know you probably don’t see it yourself, but the way you’re handling this is quite remarkable.”
“Handling it?” Bob gasped. “I’m not handling this at all!”
“Why do you think that?” she asked gently.

Bob directed a frown of disbelief towards his therapist. Was she serious? The expression on her face told him that she was but the seriousness with which she had asked the question made him consider it more than he had expected.

“For three months after it happened, I barely left my house. I kept all the doors and windows locked. I wouldn’t speak to anyone; not even family. People came to my door and I refused even to acknowledge them. Eventually I realised that I had survived.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Don’t you think that’s a stupid thing to say? That it took me three months to realise I was alive?”
“No,” Lisa shook her head lightly as she sat back once more. “I hear it more often than you’d think.”
“Oh,” Bob nodded at the realisation that his reaction was a common one. “How did I feel? Guilty.”

Lisa nodded. It was a frequently told tale – survivor’s guilt.

“Tell me more about how you felt and what changed.”

Lisa pushed the questions, feeling that Bob was, at last, opening up like he never had before. His earlier breakdown would normally signal the end of the session, but here he was, recovered and speaking again. This was a major breakthrough.

“If I wanted to talk something through, I went to Ray, or maybe Mikey. Now, not only were my friends gone, but my life support, my future. And he was to blame. A man I thought was a friend. He… he just wanted to kill us. All that time, he was planning to kill us.”
“If he was here, right now… sitting just over there. What would you say to him?”

Bob took a sudden deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m not there yet,” Bob frowned deeply so that his brow furrowed. “I’m still getting my head around it all. I can’t put anything like what I need to say into words. Not yet.”
“You did really well, Bob,” spoke cheerfully with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “We covered a lot today.”
“Hmm,” Bob gave a vague nod in reply.
“I… I probably shouldn’t ask,” Lisa began hesitantly. “You’re my patient after all… but…”

Bob glanced up; the blank expression on his face giving her cause for concern over what his reaction might be.

“Would you like to get a coffee?”

Bob’s eyes widened slightly and he pulled back, slipping his hand out from beneath hers.

“I’m sorry… really, I’m sorry, I should never have…”
“I… no…” Bob stammered, taken aback by the question. “I’d like that.”
“Are you sure?” Lisa asked, still uncertain and embarrassed. “Don’t feel you have to.”
“I don’t,” Bob smiled although an element of stress still showed in his eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s… erm… been a while.”

*

“Come in,” Simmons called as he heard a short rap on the door.

Even as the door opened and the crisp sound of leather soled shoes filled the room, Simmons continued to make and read the notes in the file spread out on the desk in front of him.

“So,” Adam Horley, the prison Warden, began with a slight note of irritation at being ignored in his tone. “What did you make of Way?”

Simmons turned his gaze upward to stare at the Warden who had fixed him with a questioning expression. The examination had been a strange one. He had thoroughly expected him to be faking insanity as so many did. And in some ways, he still gave that impression, but in others he seemed absolutely genuine. It was proving to be a much more interesting case than he had been presented with in a very long time.

“Well?” Horley prompted.
“I don’t know,” he replied thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “I can’t be sure yet.”
“I don’t pay you to be uncertain,” the warden snapped.
“You don’t pay me at all,” Simmons frowned in return. “The government pays me, and they pay me to do my job properly. That’s exactly what I want to do.”
“So where’s the doubt? He’s sane or he’s not.”
“Correct,” Simmons snapped. “But the evaluation isn’t as simple as a check box. I’m going to need to keep him under surveillance in my clinic and meet with him again.”
“No,” Horley shook his head slowly. “You can keep him under surveillance here and meet with him as often as you like, but he’s not leaving this prison. I don’t think you realise just how dangerous he is.”
“Kidnapping, four murders and attempted murder; I think I have a fairly good impression of him,” Simmons responded with a raised eyebrow.
“Good,” Horley nodded. “So we understand each other then?”

Doctor Simmons sighed irritably and closed the file.

“No, I don’t accept that you have the right environment here for adequate monitoring of his condition.”
“Condition!” Horley snapped. “The little fuck’s faking!”
“I’m not sure that he is,” Simmons shook his head.
“Well, you might be taken in by him, but I’m not!” Horley snapped. “You can monitor him in solitary, that’s where he is now. We can fix it up with cameras and mics. You can hear and see everything, but he doesn’t leave this prison.”
“Listen to me, Warden, you run a prison, I’m sure you do it well and I accept your expertise in that area. Me? I’m a psychiatrist and, like it or not, that makes me an expert in this field. I want Way transferred to my clinic so I can observe him properly.”
“That ain’t gonna happen!” Horley snapped back.
“On the contrary, it’s already happening. I spoke to Judge Peterson, it’s all arranged.”

Horley scowled with a glare of extreme irritation at the actions of the psychiatrist.

“You went over my head? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I’m well aware of your opinions on my profession, Horley,” Simmons drew himself up, placing his fingertips on the desk as he leaned forward. “And I know that you take great pleasure in seeing Death Row prisoners receive their sentence.”
“That bastard killed four people, including his own brother! Yeah, I’d gladly send him to Hell!”
“If he’s insane…”
“Insane? Can you hear yourself? Anyone who does that is insane! But it doesn’t mean they’re not responsible!”
“Granted,” Simmons nodded. “And it’s my job to assess whether he is or not.”
“And the two guys before you that said he was? Were they incompetent?”
“No, of course not! But you can’t tell in an hour, not conclusively. This is an interesting case.”
“Interesting?” Horley scoffed. “”Well, you better make sure you keep him on a tight rein.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Simons asked gruffly.
“This is a prison, we’re used to guys like him and we’re not taken in. Are your staff?”
“My clinic has housed prisoners before, we’re not without experience.”
“Well, I hope so, and not only for your sake. I’ll make the preparations, but I’ll keep his cell. Mark my words, he’ll be back in there.”

*

“Well,” Gerard sat back and leaned against the wall of the grim solitary confinement cell. “I think that went well, all things considered.”
“You think so? Nah! They got you all figured out.”
“Really?” Gerard replied flatly, unimpressed by the suggestion.
“Yep! You’re not gonna fool anyone. You don’t really think you’ve convinced them, do you?”
“Listen to me, Toro, I know exactly what I’m doing and you aren’t gonna make me doubt myself for a minute.”
“You believe they think you’re crazy?”
“Sure! What not? I was pretty convincing.”

Ray laughed for a few moments.

“Of course you were convincing! You haven’t got it yet, have you? You ARE crazy! The only one who doesn’t know it yet, is you!”