A Descent into Darkness

Dr. Sanchez

There's a laptop open on Dr. James' desk as we enter the office.

"You have a seat, Nate," he gestures toward it. "I'm going to head back out to the lobby and wait with Syed."

"You're not going to listen in?" I ask.

"Not unless either you or her feel intervention on my part is required. Dr. Sanchez prefers meeting with patients one on one. The reason I stayed in with Syed is that, in my experience at least, it's better not to leave an alcoholic unsupervised, especially when they're in withdrawal."

"You think he's that fragile?" My tone is half edgy, half concerned. I will admit I'm feeling a bit defensive of myself and those around me right now, but that's mostly on account of what just happened in the street. Though, if he can't hear me, that may present something of an opportunity...

"I don't think anything of the sorts," he replies. "It's like I told you, Nate, the mind is a wonderful, mysterious thing. Anyone who claims to understand it is a liar. And with that in mind, it never hurts to have an extra body around to help out. Especially with matters as delicate as yours and those faced by your friend out there. And my concern for him is nothing against his character. From what I can tell, he's a lovely young man. I think it's a testament to your character that you thought of this as a way to help him."

Sure, but what about when he's not around?

"Anyways, Dr. Sanchez is a busy woman, so you better get over to my desk and answer her questions. We'll just be outside." With that, he exits the room.

I take a deep breath before walking across the room to the open laptop, where I pull back the chair and take a seat. Looking over to me from the screen is a not unattractive tanned woman with short brown hair. She smiles when she sees me.

"Hi Nate," she begins, in what I can only assume is an Uruguayan accent, "I would introduce myself but I'm sure you know my name already."

"I do, yes," I nod. "Before we go any further, I just want to say thank-you for doing this today. I'm sure helping out people like me pales in comparison to helping people with actual problems."

"Oh, not at all. In fact," she leans in toward her webcam, as if afraid someone on her end might hear, "between you and me, I actually help a lot more people like you than you would think."

Her response prompts me to lean forward in my chair. "Wait, really? Dr. James made it sound like this case is something of an anomaly for you. And when I looked you up, I didn't see anything other than your work with drug addicts."

"Well, your first point is technically correct, I suppose. While I have helped people deal with violent urges, never have I dealt with a case with circumstances quite like yours. Second, the reason you don't hear about the violent cases I do work with is because I don't like advertising it to the media. The corporate lobbyists have already driven several governments to cut my funding to the barebones. If they caught wind that I wasn't just working with helpless addicts, but also hardened criminals, that vote against funding my work becomes a lot easier to justify, especially with US politics the way they are right now, what with their decided lack of faith in science and facts. And if America cuts me off, other countries won't be far behind."

I shrug. "Fair enough."

"I trust I can count on your confidence in this matter?" she raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, not like I want anyone knowing about my problems."

"Good. I appreciate your discretion."

"What do you mean that my first point isn't technically correct?"