Breaking Chains

The Sitting Room

“Seventeen thousand and fifty-nine snowflakes?” the good doctor asked. “That’s what she remembered?” Samantha shrugged.

“That’s what she said. I can’t tell you anymore than that.” The doctor sat at his desk with his hands folded under his chin and a form in front of him. Samantha sat in her wheelchair across.

“Did she say anything else?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing important. We just talked about stuff.”

“Stuff...” Dr. Call Me Roger’s said slowly. Samantha squirmed under his intense gaze and rubbed the back of her neck. Suddenly she felt like she was back her father’s office after stealing apples from old man Terrance’s orchard. “Nothing important? She hasn’t talked for a quarter of a year; everything is important and what I find vital and what I don’t isn’t up to you-is it?”

“No,” Samantha submitted.

“Good, now what did you talk about?” he repeated.

“I asked about her age and how long she’s been here. I was concerned about her, she seemed-”

“You were concerned?” the doctor asked.

“Well...Yeah. She looks like a corpse! She’s eighteen but doesn't look at least four years younger. Her eyes are sunken into her socket like a skull and she so skinny she looks like a skeleton wearing skin clothes. Not to mention how pale she is and-”

“Enough,” the good doctor snapped. Samantha shut up and shrunk into her chair. “She is not under your care; you are not to concern yourself with her well being. Distance yourself. I asked you to get her to talk-you succeeded.”

“So do I get-”

“I’m not finished,” he interrupted. Samantha muttered an apology under her breath. “Then you decided to investigate her past. Why?” Samantha threw a hand helplessly in the air. She didn’t know. She saw Celia was losing interest, panicked, and said the first thing that came to her mind.

“I didn’t know what else to talk about,” Samantha said. “Judging from her appearance she seemed to have been here a long time and...I don’t know. After I found out she was eighteen I was just curious to see how much of her life was spent here.”

“Patient Two Twenty-One doesn't like to talk about her past,” the good doctor explained. Yeah, that much Samantha had figured out when she clammed up at the first mention of it. “It’s what caused her to run away to her fantasy world in the first place. Think of it like a trigger. Pull the trigger and, bam, she back in her little world.”

“Yeah,” Samantha said. “I get it. Don’t bring up the past.”

“No, I don’t think you do. Even her own name could trigger her. That’s why she’s called patient two twenty-one, understand?” It didn’t though. Her name didn’t affect her at all. Evidently Celia wasn’t a broken as the good doctor thought.

“Okay,” she agreed. “What do you want me to talk to her about then? The weather?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s my job to cure her, make her normal, and it’s your job to keep her linked to reality so I can do that.”

“So I should do what? Teach her to be normal?”

“If you want. It’s an achievement in itself that you got her to interact.”

“Do I get interaction privileges?” Samantha asked. The good doctor slid the paper towards himself and looked it over despite the fact that he had probably been the one to write it.