Fiction Friday - 27 June 2008
This Week's Theme: "I can't breathe." Now keep writing.
"I can't breathe. I feel trapped here, like the whole city is just suffocating me."
She sat down on the settee beside him, taking his hand in hers. "Tell me you understand Ewan, please?" She edged forward, trying to get him to look at her. Instead he sat staring into the mid-distance, almost impassively. Only his eyes betrayed what he was feeling, slick with barely perceptible tears, burning red.
"Ewan, please? Talk to me?" She let go of his hand and stood up. She slowly walked over to the doorway, where she had placed her bags. "Please don't hate me. I'm sorry that I don't... You're a good man Ewan, I just can't stay here any more. I need to go back home. For what it's worth..."
She hesitated, as he slowly turned his head towards her.
Don't go. Please. I will do anything you ask, be anything you ask. Only stay.
As that thought passed, his jaw set slightly, brow furrowed. Fine. Leave. Walk out you bitch. See if I care.
His face relaxed again. He held her gaze for a few moments, his bottom lip trembling slightly.
I don't want you to leave. But I can't make you stay. I don't understand, but I love you, so I can't stand in your way. You're all I ever wanted.
"Elly, promise me something" he croaked, his shoulders shaking as he struggled not to scream. He turned his head away, closed his eyes, and let a single tear roll down his cheek. "Don't come back."
With his eyes still shut, he heard the door closing. Alone, he knelt down on the ground, curled up into himself, and let the pain flow through his body.
"And after that, what did you do?"
Ewan hugged his knees closer to his chest, rocking back and forth in the chair. "I... came here. I'd heard about you. That you could... take away the pain. Help me forget."
Dr Pieterson sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Always the same misinterpretation of the treatment. "Mr Davidson, we can't remove your memories. That's not how it works. We can help you cope with them, and we can stop the pain. The memories you keep, and we help you to deal with it. Understand?"
Ewan nodded. If that was the best he could get, at least it was something.
"In the circumstances..." Pieterson looked at the case notes before him. Although the treatment was mostly used for trauma survivors, Pieterson had begun to see people for private treatment when the circumstances merited. Ewan certainly merited it. "... I'd like to begin treatment sooner, rather than later. We can't let you have another... 'incident', can we."
He pulled some forms out of a folder in front of them, and handed them to Ewan. "I'll need you to sign these, and there are some instructions you have to follow. It's important I have as much information about the specific events as possible. Otherwise the CED therapy might disrupt elements of your psyche that we don't want to fix."
Ewan flicked through the papers, signing where instructed, and read the instructions and description of the treatment. Finally, he looked up. "Will it hurt?"
Pieterson smiled. "No Mr Davidson. We're here to take the pain away."
Brief explanation first - this week's prompt inspired me to write a prequel to something I've been working on, which was a response to Jodi's very first Monday's Musical Musings meme. Nearly one month on, I'm almost finished - but with a twist, because it's going to feature as a podcast, not as a blog posting. For more musical memes, visit the Monday's Musical Musings site.
"I can't breathe. I feel trapped here, like the whole city is just suffocating me."
She sat down on the settee beside him, taking his hand in hers. "Tell me you understand Ewan, please?" She edged forward, trying to get him to look at her. Instead he sat staring into the mid-distance, almost impassively. Only his eyes betrayed what he was feeling, slick with barely perceptible tears, burning red.
"Ewan, please? Talk to me?" She let go of his hand and stood up. She slowly walked over to the doorway, where she had placed her bags. "Please don't hate me. I'm sorry that I don't... You're a good man Ewan, I just can't stay here any more. I need to go back home. For what it's worth..."
She hesitated, as he slowly turned his head towards her.
Don't go. Please. I will do anything you ask, be anything you ask. Only stay.
As that thought passed, his jaw set slightly, brow furrowed. Fine. Leave. Walk out you bitch. See if I care.
His face relaxed again. He held her gaze for a few moments, his bottom lip trembling slightly.
I don't want you to leave. But I can't make you stay. I don't understand, but I love you, so I can't stand in your way. You're all I ever wanted.
"Elly, promise me something" he croaked, his shoulders shaking as he struggled not to scream. He turned his head away, closed his eyes, and let a single tear roll down his cheek. "Don't come back."
With his eyes still shut, he heard the door closing. Alone, he knelt down on the ground, curled up into himself, and let the pain flow through his body.
***
"And after that, what did you do?"
Ewan hugged his knees closer to his chest, rocking back and forth in the chair. "I... came here. I'd heard about you. That you could... take away the pain. Help me forget."
Dr Pieterson sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Always the same misinterpretation of the treatment. "Mr Davidson, we can't remove your memories. That's not how it works. We can help you cope with them, and we can stop the pain. The memories you keep, and we help you to deal with it. Understand?"
Ewan nodded. If that was the best he could get, at least it was something.
"In the circumstances..." Pieterson looked at the case notes before him. Although the treatment was mostly used for trauma survivors, Pieterson had begun to see people for private treatment when the circumstances merited. Ewan certainly merited it. "... I'd like to begin treatment sooner, rather than later. We can't let you have another... 'incident', can we."
He pulled some forms out of a folder in front of them, and handed them to Ewan. "I'll need you to sign these, and there are some instructions you have to follow. It's important I have as much information about the specific events as possible. Otherwise the CED therapy might disrupt elements of your psyche that we don't want to fix."
Ewan flicked through the papers, signing where instructed, and read the instructions and description of the treatment. Finally, he looked up. "Will it hurt?"
Pieterson smiled. "No Mr Davidson. We're here to take the pain away."
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