Confessions of Torment

My name is Dr. Dimitri Gadoffski, I was a Russian psychiatrist specializing in the treatment of individuals whose madness ranged beyond the seemingly limited comprehension of this world. In other words I investigate the things most people dismiss as the ramblings of the insane, the sad pleads of the desperate and the cries of the tortured souls twisted by faith's unjust hands.

In 1952 I was a psychiatrist at a small mental institution or as the preferred term goes, a house of reform for the mentally ill, where my duties were to tend to patients whose care required a more stern hand for they were, for lack of a better word unwilling to co-operate with the employees who tend to see the lighter side of this hell hole. Needless to say I was a real hard ass in my young years seeing that I was only twenty at the time. Hours after hours working with different patients with different stories, paranoias, fears, angers, eventually it all seemed to sound the same, the monotony of it all blurred each experience into a singular void. I guess when you look at it insanity just falls on a singular line doesn't it? We all exist within the realm of madness, some more than others, it is us who reside in the shallow judge those who are neck deep.

I eventually left that job behind and ventured on to start my own business, which was easier said than done. No respectable person would want to visit a psychiatrist for marital problems who spent all his training years behind the doors of a nut house. Needless to say business was not booming, it was quite the opposite in fact. The year was 1960, it's a cliché to say, but I remembered it like it was yesterday.

Patient Alias: Marie Guera

Age: 28

Patient File: P125(MG)

Patient Information:

Migrated to Russia in 1958 to pursue a degree in ancient languages, she is seemingly a kind girl, cares more for others than herself and has a tendency to put herself last and in some cases not consider herself at all.

Personal Thoughts:

Marie to me seemed a bit too fixated, her reasons for her visits to me seem to deteriorate over time becoming more and more incomprehensive. It started out with her speaking about dealing with grief over leaving her entire family in her own country to pursue her education. She felt as though she had abandoned them, turning her back on them for her own self-centered reasons. A manageable problem from a psychiatrist's point of view but with each visit her reason for grief changed, grief evolved into something dark and empty, as though she had lost more than just her family but she herself had become nothing but an empty shell.

The story of Marie Guera

Death, doorway or prison?

I had recently migrated to Russia in pursuit of my degree in ancient languages. I guess I first fell in love with languages in high school back home when I took Latin of all things. For some reason it just felt right and came easy to me. It became more apparent when I had to tutor my high school boyfriend Travis, little good it did him though, he wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, which became more apparent to me when I caught him behind the bleachers with the head cheerleader, Alexis Collen. All the guys in school would have killed for her even some of the girls, I guess I can't be too mad at Travis after all his stupid decision was all the motivation I needed to pick myself up and leave my home in pursuit of my dream to become a Linguist, not just any Linguist but the best this world has ever seen.

Any way I digress, so I came to Russian in August of 1958 just in time for the start of the new semester I was excited to say the least, I toured the campus on my first day there then hunted for a place to stay which wasn't a total inconvenience when it came to getting to classes on a daily basis seeing that staying on campus was a bit too expensive for me. I found a nice little place just minutes away, with a seemingly nice elderly couple who enjoyed the quiet, not ideal for myself I thought but the rent was affordable seeing that my parents could have only sent me a certain amount per month to help with expenses. They were nice enough people Mr. and Mrs. Ivanov, he was a carpenter although time hasn't been kind to him, he suffers a lot with his back after falling off a ladder a couple years prior, so the jobs he takes are those that can fit into his capabilities. It's cruel that way I suppose, we're all just slaves to time, the once majestic tree eventually lay rotted at the hands of time a relic in the wind, a shell of former glory. Mrs. Ivanov was a sweet old lady as far as old Russian ladies go, she'd always have dinner ready for her husband when he returned home and always made extra in case I was hungry, which more than often I was. It occurred to me time and time again that I underestimated college life greatly.