Contraindication

Epilogue | Scientific Therapy

"Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power."
~ Jim Morrison

One Month Later

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how are you feeling today, Ms. Gates?"

"Yellow..." I responded, keeping my eyes closed.

The psychiatrist huffed in her chair a metre away from me. I could faintly hear her black ballpoint pen scribble something on her clipboard. "That isn't a solid answer, Ms. Gates. I can't start this session until you tell me how you're feeling."

Slowly, I opened my eyes to the white room. I no longer know what outside air smells like; I only know the pumped-in air that smelt like antiseptic and tears. I haven't seen a window in 28 1/2 days... no 29 1/2 days, maybe more.

The only solid interaction I've had was with Dr. Aaron—Some child psychiatrist Steve hired who is doing more than a child psychiatrist should ever be doing. She brings me all my meds, all my meals, and talks to me for 30 minutes daily. I haven't seen Steve, Charles, or anyone other than her. I also haven't had access to the internet or to electronics. My life has been contained in this tiny jail cell like room.

I faced Dr. Aaron and squinted my eyes to focus on the dark mole on her upper left cheek. "Fine, I'll answer honestly then... I'm feeling green, no purple?" I smiled and opened my eyes wider, "Purple, the one colour no flags have... the colour that is connected to royalty... because I feel like a royal piece of shit being here locked away in this room with no windows and a handleless door of shame, which you walk in and out every day." I spat out.

Dr. Aaron only stared, "So would you put that as a 2 or 3 on the feeling scale?"

My eyes focused on her face. Her forehead creased as her untamed eyebrows and brown eyes were the only things I can see as the rest was beneath her face mask. "No," I paused to think about it, "a 1?"

"Interesting...." she rubbed her chin, "and why is that?"

I couldn't believe this lady. Every day she would ask the same questions. Yes, it was her job, but still? What did she expect me to say? Every day was a 1. Maybe even a 0, but the scale didn't go that low. "Why?" I huffed and sat up, "Do you know why?"

"I don't." She tipped down her glasses, "Human's change all the time, Evelyn—"

"Well, I don't feel human..."

I knew she gave a sad smile under the mask as she wrote my words down on her clipboard before continuing, "Well, you are... you're just not normal."

I couldn't hold in my laughter, "Ha, it's not like I haven't heard that before." I wiped the tears from my eyes, "You crack me up, Emily!"

"Once again, it's Dr. Aaron." She snapped, "You may feel comfortable around me, but there still has to be some formality. I would like it if you refrain from using my first name, please."

My tone died down as she slapped away my mood, "Oh sure, sure.... Let me guess? Charles is allowed to call you Emily, but I'm not...."

"That isn't true.."

"Don't lie to me, Dr. Aaron. You've left your clipboard here several times before." I sighed and leaned back into my messy bed. The sheets smelt like chemicals as whoever cleans them refused to use the ocean breeze detergent that I packed with me. "I'm not allowed to have access to the internet and rereading those adventures novels is getting quite boring... so I casually indulge myself with your notes about me." I narrowed my eyes, "and your notes about Charles... how is he by the way?"

Dr. Aaron blushed then snapped out of it as she held the clipboard to her chest, "He's doing well, unlike you. He's been taking his meds and actually responding to my words."