The Ghost of Our Past (ON HOLD)

Under Her Thumb

"You want to go outside?" The psychiatrist echoed.

Kiera turned her head to see her reaction. She was lying down as usual. It made her feel vulnerable, the way the psychiatrist looked over her. The psychiatrist knew this as well and without fail invited Kiera to lie down at every appointment.

Kiera tried not to let her hopes fall as the psychiatrist's face contorted into a sneer. After what had happened between them, she stopped hiding the disgust and pride that often lurked behind her pretty face.

Admittedly, Kiera was shocked at this transformation at first. She had assumed the psychiatrist was a simple creature who had a little in her brain.

"Yeah."

Kiera locked her fingers together, preparing for the worst. What could be the worst? Never getting out.

She imagined herself in a straitjacket, unable to move as she sits listlessly in a room padded with yellow-stained cushions. She wouldn't put it pass the psychiatrist to do it to her. Trying to ignore the stench that hung in the air.

"Yes, Doctor." She corrected.

"Yeah... Doctor." Immediately Kiera irritably made up her mind to invent a nickname for the Doctor. Just for herself to help her through the appointments. 

"What about the flower-plucking incident? Aren't you afraid being outside may trigger certain... unwanted happenings?"

"It won't happen again. I think I've managed to overcome it." Kiera tried to ignore the mocking tone.

"So soon?"

"It's been a few weeks already and áfter spending my days looking out the window, I'm sure I'll be okay."

"You mean to say you have cured yourself?" An edge appeared in the Doctor's voice.

"N-no."

"I see. There's no harm in it, I suppose. I'll leave you outside everyday for a few hours if the weather permits with two attendants." The Doctor smiled as Kiera gritted her teeth, resentful at how the she was treating her. It felt like she was taking control of everything she could, toying Kiera with her desires.

"And if nothing happens, can I be by myself?" She carefully worded her question, keeping out any traces of distaste.
"We'll see."

Instinctively Kiera looked at the clock sitting on the small table beside her. It was ten past six, a few minutes after dinnertime. The Doctor noticed the time as well and gestured to the door, not bothering to show Kiera out.

It was fine by Kiera anyway. She wanted as little as possible to do with her. Minimum eye contact and conversation and definitely no skin contact, Nastiness could be contagious.

"Oh, and Kiera?" The Doctor said without looking up from her clipboard, Kiera at the door. "Can you bring flowers for me in a purple vase tomorrow? Preferably hand picked from the garden?"

She had Kiera under her thumb and they both knew it.

"Yeah, okay." Kiera allowed a small pause in between then added,"Doctor." As she shut the door, a word formed into her mind then to her lips.

"Control Freak."

Come next morning, Kiera was promptly escorted to the courtyard by two attendants as promised. She sat on the grass with crossed legs and placed the purple vase beside her.

It was the only decent purple vase and it belonged to another patient, Joan who thinks that little people sit on her shoulders who often taunts her until she loses control. Joan agreed to loan it to Kiera on one condition, to look for one of the tiny man who accidentally fell of her shoulders last night.

"Please find him by this afternoon," she said tearfully. Kiera felt panic rising in her chest. Why had she been so quick to agree to such terms?

It wa all thanks to Dr.Control Freak. She twisted the stem of a Pansy and imagined it as someone's neck. A untidy pile of different flowers grew and whenever Kiera decided to go for another type, she would shuffle her bottom to the next row. Her hand reached out to a daffodil then she pulled her hand back.

Greta.

"What is this flower called?" Greta pointed to a patch of yellow flowers planted next to the fence of Mrs Elliot's front yard fence. They were taking a walk around the neighborhood, trying to forget the bruises on Greta's arm. She refused to talk about it and wore a smile the whole time.

Kiera squatted to take a closer look, her brown hair long then, falling into her eyes. She pushed her hair back and looked up to the ten year old.

"It's called a daffodil," she grinned. Greta's face lit up and Kiera watched in amusement. Kiera realised now that it was sad that the smallest things could put a smile on Greta's face because she had so little.

Form her front porch, Mrs Elliot watched Kiera worriedly as the girl had her head turned up as if talking to someone standing over her and occasionally throwing her head back in laughter. 

Kiera didn't realised then nobody could see Greta.

If she had been more attentive, she wouldn't be here, picking flowers in a psychiatric institution.