The Calling | The House of Voices #1

Thirty Two - Transfer

Transfer

Darren:

Night came faster than anyone in the Institute expected. From where he sat behind the desk, Darren frowned. Something wasn’t right about this day. It had sped by so fast; as if even time itself wanted the day to be over with soon; as if it was trying to fast forward past something. Coupled with the fact that Dr. Larkson had actually listened to his and Nurse Malone’s pleas to let October and Parish out of Solitary confinement early, there was definitely something strange going on.

Yawning, Darren locked away his notebooks in the drawer of his desk. He’d just finished a session with Parish and was slightly troubled by what the boy had told him. From what he’s shared with him, Darren was able to ascertain that, despite what Dr. Larkson and all of Parish’s previous doctors believed, the boy wasn’t as damaged as he seemed. There was hope for him.

Besides the trauma he faced when his mother left, Parish hadn’t gone through anything else in his life that could indicate that he was psychologically damaged. If what Darren was seeing was correct, then the boy had been misdiagnosed when he was thirteen. He didn’t have Dissociative Identity Disorder; maybe a few anger issues, at best. The anger he’d been feeling had only been fueled and amplified by his mother’s desertion.

Why every single doctor he’d been to, insisted that the boy had DID was beyond Darren’s understanding. It made no sense.

Scrubbing his cheeks with the palms of his hand, Darren thought back to his session with Parish. Something had been off about that, too. The boy seemed hostile – more than usual. Out of his two patients, Parish had always been the more forthcoming one. Unlike October, he was snarky and rude, but Darren still never had to goad Parish into talking like he had to with October. This time, however, he had to. Something about the boy’s attitude towards him had changed. His defenses were up; he was wary.

Sighing, Darren scratched his head. Had he done anything to cause this change? There had to be a reason why Parish had regarded him with so much suspicion during their hour-long session. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

He stood up, about to retire to his room for the night, when his cell phone rang. Eyebrows furrowing when he noticed the caller ID, Darren answered. “Dr. Larkon?”

“Come into my office now.” She said. “I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“Right now?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Erm, no.” He shook his head, already on his way out the door. “I’m on my way.”

“Good.” The line went dead.

Wondering what on earth could be so important that Pauline needed to see him at this time of the night, Darren walked down the long hallway. Hadn’t she gone home the the day yet? He paused only when he reached the sturdy brown door that led into his boss’s office. Steeling himself, he rapped twice.

“Come in.”

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Pauline Larkson stood with her back to him, gazing thoughtfully out the plain-glass windows. “There’s a letter on the desk. Read it.”

Cautiously, he moved closer to the large oak desk and picked up the single sheet of paper that lay on the desktop. He’d barely even glanced at the sheet before he realized what it was. It was the letter he’d stumbled across the other night when he’s come looking for Dr. Larkson.

The letter requesting Parish’s transfer to a high security facility.

“This is ludicrous.” He said after a few minutes of pretending to read the letter he’d already seen before. “He’s not this bad!”

“He broke Brent’s nose.” Dr. Larkson pointed out calmly, finally turning around the face him. Darren made a conscious effort to maintain a look of horrified surprise. It didn’t take that much work; he was still pretty horrified at her plan.

“So? That doesn’t mean he’s ‘mentally unstable and a threat to everyone around him’.” He argued, quoting her words in the letter directly. “He has a sensitive temper, that’s all. If we start him on some anger management sessions, he’ll be perfectly fine. You can’t just ship him off to a high security facility. They’ll lock him up.”

“That’s the point, Michelson. He needs to be locked up.”

“No he doesn’t. You and I both know that.” Calm down. She’ll never listen if you start yelling. He inhaled deeply before continuing. “If you go through with this transfer, it’ll be years when Parish sees the light of day again, if ever.”

“It needs to be done, Michelson.” She moved over to her large desk chair and sat down, clasping her hands together under her chin and regarding him with mild interest. “This is not the first time Parish has assaulted a superior. In the past two years alone the boy has gotten in trouble for assaulting his principal, one of his teachers, three boys from his school, and another boy from his neighborhood. Brent’s broken nose isn’t the worst of the damage he’s caused. One of the other boys had four of his teeth knocked out.”

Darren shook his head vehemently, angrily dismissing her justification of her actions with the movement. “Do you know why he assaulted them? Do we know his side of the story? Do we know anything besides what’s in those reports?” He spat, jerking his head towards the thick file on her desk. “For all we know, Parish could have been defending himself. Or defending someone else. You’re jumping the gun here! He’s not dangerous.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, Michelson.” She looked unmoved by his argument. “You may have developed some feelings of fondness for the boy; or maybe, as his doctor, you’re just feeling obligated to protect him. Regardless of why you’re so adamantly defending him, your argument is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter why Parish did what he did; what matters is the damage he’s caused. This kind of behavior cannot be overlooked. I can easily do what you’re doing and delude myself into thinking that Parish’s actions are justified, but what good would that do for the boy?

“I’m doing what’s best for him, Michelson. The doctors at the hospital I’ve contacted are better equipped to deal with a patient like him. We, unfortunately, are not. The Administrator of St. Elizabeth’s will be here tomorrow night to take him.”

“So that’s it?” Darren demanded. “You’re not even going to listen to what I have to say about this?”

“The matter wasn’t really up for discussion.”

“Then why the hell did you call me down here?”

She raised an eyebrow, reacting to something he’d said for the first time their entire conversation. “You’d do well to remember that I’m your superior and talk to me with some semblance of respect, Darren. I won’t warn you again.” He said nothing, but held her cold stare. “And to answer your question; you’re his doctor. I had to notify you before I actually went through with the transfer.”

He resisted the urge to kick something. “What about his father?”

“Mr. Feltman is well aware of his son’s mental state. I haven’t been able to reach him as yet, but I’m thoroughly convinced that he’ll have no objections to my decision. He does, after all, have the boy’s best interests at heart.”

There was a soft thumping sound outside the office. Pauline glanced past Darren’s head and stared curiously at the closed door. Ignoring the sound, Darren continued. “You can’t transfer him without his father’s consent first. You’re making a mistake.”

Instead of answering, the woman stood up, pressing a finger to her lips to indicate silence. Shutting his mouth, Darren watched the older lady walk across her office with surprising stealth – something he thought would have been impossible to achieve in those incredibly high, incredibly noisy heels of hers.

She paused once she reached the office door, only to turn around and shoot him a knowing look over her shoulder.

And then she opened the door.