Todestrieb
"So, Ms. O'Hagerty," Dr. Morton begins, raising one amused eyebrow at you, "What can I do for you today?"
"You can go fuck yourself, for starters." The steady stream of painkillers is beginning to wear off.
"Okay," he says, sitting back in his chair and zipping down his fly. "Remind me," he says grinning.
Your jaw drops in disbelief. You look away, wondering if anyone would believe you if you told them what just happened. You turn back to him. Dr. Morton isn't a young man, but he's not old either. There's something vaguely wolf-like about him, yet his eyes seem to be two endless wells of amusement.
"Okay, you have my attention. What do you want?"
"Well, I'm a psychiatrist and someone seemed to think it unusual that a beautiful young woman would want to cut her own face off."
"And what do you think?"
"I'd have to know her story. All I know about you is that you're from an old Irish-American Boston family, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and something has gone really wrong in your life. Your dad and your brother wouldn't talk much, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and postulate that there are some issues in your family."
"Figured that out all by yourself, did you, Sherlock?"
"Yes I did." He leers close to you with a stethoscope. Before you can object, he has reached one hand around your back, resting the other near his still-open pants. Having completed this dubious examination, he gives you a barely perceptible squeeze, then pushes away from you abruptly, zipping up his fly and looking distractedly at his watch.
"That's all there's time for today. It was nice meeting you, Ms. O'Hagerty."
"What sort of " The smile on your face is composed half of amusement and half of irritated confusion.
"Ah, my methods, you mean. I'll confess they're a little unorthodox, but then again I never did buy into that psychobabble bullshit. You and I are going to have fun together, and I guarantee you, you will feel better by the time I'm done with you."
He extends a hand to you, crushing your bones in his shake. You wonder what it would be like to have him on top of you. Would he be just as rough then? You rather hope so.
"If you pull another stunt like that one," you say steadily, indicating toward his crotch, "my face won't be the only thing sliced to shit."
He raises two amused eyebrows at you, pulling out his clipboard. "Duly noted," he says. "Until next time, Femme Nikita."
The smell of coffee lingers after him. You brush your hand down to rest over your lower abdomen. Your whole body feels nervous and alive. His hands alone seem capable of obliterating everything: the wanting and tingling, the pain, the thoughts, the past, all of it. You are surprised to feel an enormous sadness come over you, even as you are indulging in racy thoughts about Dr. Morton. You feel as though he has penetrated to something vulnerable in you. You feel angry that he has immediately established a sexually tense relationship with you. Isn't he supposed to be your defender? Isn't he supposed to be helping you, not just repeating what happened when It's wrong, it's just wrong. He should be fired for this. And yet, you know it's probably right. You don't know how or why, but you decide in an instant to go along with whatever it is he has planned for you. His unusualness attracts you, and certainly all the tried and true paths have failed you miserably.
And he called you gorgeous. He saw you for the damaged thing you are, yet he thinks you're beautiful. Despite all your capacity for higher functioning, you find this to be the most pleasant thought you have had in months. Giving into it, playing along its edges, you let it lead you into a heavy sleep.
Completed initial interview with Anna O. Patient is stable and coherent. Patient is young and supple. Patient needs a thick piece of
It's getting late. I need to go home soon. But Jane is at home. She is such a kind woman. She is everything my ex wasn't. But I can't get Anna's threat out of my head. When she told me she'd cut my balls off, I think I believed her. She's fierce, yet injured. She's hardly original in the psychological world. Promiscuous and chaotic, bravely determined, she's an upscale case of the aftermath of real trauma. No, she's not new to the psychological world-but she's new to my world. And I mean to keep her there for awhile. There's something about her she inspires the basest of reactions. You want to fuck her or kill her or both. I know enough about myself to be fairly certain that I will do neither. However, I can see already that she will need a violent sort of therapy if there's to be any hope of recovering her mental health. I don't think I could live with myself if I destroyed her in the process. But I want to break her. I want to fuck her so hard, she splits in two. I want to dash her brains out on a rock so those terrible eyes can't keep challenging me, can't keep seeing me for what I really am.
I'm a repulsive man.
Get back to work, you dirty old Humbert
Status report: much has been illuminated in the case of Anna O.
The following are a series of interviews held with Anna at this inpatient facility between October and December of the current year.
Case Notes:
"You can go fuck yourself, for starters." The steady stream of painkillers is beginning to wear off.
"Okay," he says, sitting back in his chair and zipping down his fly. "Remind me," he says grinning.
Your jaw drops in disbelief. You look away, wondering if anyone would believe you if you told them what just happened. You turn back to him. Dr. Morton isn't a young man, but he's not old either. There's something vaguely wolf-like about him, yet his eyes seem to be two endless wells of amusement.
"Okay, you have my attention. What do you want?"
"Well, I'm a psychiatrist and someone seemed to think it unusual that a beautiful young woman would want to cut her own face off."
"And what do you think?"
"I'd have to know her story. All I know about you is that you're from an old Irish-American Boston family, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and something has gone really wrong in your life. Your dad and your brother wouldn't talk much, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and postulate that there are some issues in your family."
"Figured that out all by yourself, did you, Sherlock?"
"Yes I did." He leers close to you with a stethoscope. Before you can object, he has reached one hand around your back, resting the other near his still-open pants. Having completed this dubious examination, he gives you a barely perceptible squeeze, then pushes away from you abruptly, zipping up his fly and looking distractedly at his watch.
"That's all there's time for today. It was nice meeting you, Ms. O'Hagerty."
"What sort of " The smile on your face is composed half of amusement and half of irritated confusion.
"Ah, my methods, you mean. I'll confess they're a little unorthodox, but then again I never did buy into that psychobabble bullshit. You and I are going to have fun together, and I guarantee you, you will feel better by the time I'm done with you."
He extends a hand to you, crushing your bones in his shake. You wonder what it would be like to have him on top of you. Would he be just as rough then? You rather hope so.
"If you pull another stunt like that one," you say steadily, indicating toward his crotch, "my face won't be the only thing sliced to shit."
He raises two amused eyebrows at you, pulling out his clipboard. "Duly noted," he says. "Until next time, Femme Nikita."
The smell of coffee lingers after him. You brush your hand down to rest over your lower abdomen. Your whole body feels nervous and alive. His hands alone seem capable of obliterating everything: the wanting and tingling, the pain, the thoughts, the past, all of it. You are surprised to feel an enormous sadness come over you, even as you are indulging in racy thoughts about Dr. Morton. You feel as though he has penetrated to something vulnerable in you. You feel angry that he has immediately established a sexually tense relationship with you. Isn't he supposed to be your defender? Isn't he supposed to be helping you, not just repeating what happened when It's wrong, it's just wrong. He should be fired for this. And yet, you know it's probably right. You don't know how or why, but you decide in an instant to go along with whatever it is he has planned for you. His unusualness attracts you, and certainly all the tried and true paths have failed you miserably.
And he called you gorgeous. He saw you for the damaged thing you are, yet he thinks you're beautiful. Despite all your capacity for higher functioning, you find this to be the most pleasant thought you have had in months. Giving into it, playing along its edges, you let it lead you into a heavy sleep.
**********************************
Completed initial interview with Anna O. Patient is stable and coherent. Patient is young and supple. Patient needs a thick piece of
It's getting late. I need to go home soon. But Jane is at home. She is such a kind woman. She is everything my ex wasn't. But I can't get Anna's threat out of my head. When she told me she'd cut my balls off, I think I believed her. She's fierce, yet injured. She's hardly original in the psychological world. Promiscuous and chaotic, bravely determined, she's an upscale case of the aftermath of real trauma. No, she's not new to the psychological world-but she's new to my world. And I mean to keep her there for awhile. There's something about her she inspires the basest of reactions. You want to fuck her or kill her or both. I know enough about myself to be fairly certain that I will do neither. However, I can see already that she will need a violent sort of therapy if there's to be any hope of recovering her mental health. I don't think I could live with myself if I destroyed her in the process. But I want to break her. I want to fuck her so hard, she splits in two. I want to dash her brains out on a rock so those terrible eyes can't keep challenging me, can't keep seeing me for what I really am.
I'm a repulsive man.
Get back to work, you dirty old Humbert
**********************************
Status report: much has been illuminated in the case of Anna O.
The following are a series of interviews held with Anna at this inpatient facility between October and December of the current year.
Case Notes: