Page 20 of Fever Dream

Chapter Thirteen

Dr.Jay Branson

Journal Entry

At approximately 1400 hours, Ms.Elizabeth Yarring was summoned to my office for our weekly session.During her previous admissions I have accessed Ms.Yarring three times per week, but her current behavior and the advancement of her condition requires intensive behavioral therapy, including the use of restraints, and until the behavior modification is complete, weekly sessions shall suffice.

“Long time no see,” Ms.Yarring said sarcastically.The patient often uses humor to block any genuine progress toward improving her condition.

“I was hoping it would have been longer.”

“Yeah, well, what can I tell you?”She pointed to her temple.“Like you always say, I got something up here that’s broken.”She shimmied in her seat.“Plus, I missed you.”

The patient spoke in her usual Texas twang accent, only this time with a little something else mixed in.Something that sounds distinctly European, which makes her sound rather odd.“How are things getting on with the new roommate?”

“Ah, I see where this is going,” Elizabeth said, narrowing her gaze.“Thing is, Doc, this ismysession.Grace has her own.”

“Whereisthis going?”

“You tell me?”

“You’ve been readmitted.How about we start there?”

“You don’t sound very happy to see me.”She clutched her chest.“I’m hurt, Doc.”

“It’s my job to rehabilitate you, Elizabeth.”

“I doubt my mental health is a reflection of your work ethic.”

Ms.Yarring possesses a high intellect, making her a difficult patient to treat.She seems to be aware of this, and her intelligence is a dangerous combination when mixed with her diagnosis.“I want to help you.”

“I hear that a lot from men, Doc.It never turns out all that well.”

Patient exhibits a deep mistrust in authority.Ms.Yarring changed her position.It was subtle, but it was definitely there, just as I’d seen it during our previous sessions.The pronounced Texas twang was replaced by what sounded like a German accent, but instead of turning into a melting pot of cultures, the patient resembled someone else entirely.

“Elizabeth, I want you to take off your clothes.”

Ms.Yarring laughed.“You’re funny, Doc.”

“I’m serious.”

“Really, you want me to strip?”She snorted.

“I want you to trust me.”

The patient scooted forward in her chair and steepled her hands beneath her chin.She stared at me for a long time.She hadn’t expected me to beat her to the punch, to beat her at her own game.“Doc, you know the kind of stuff I’ve done?”

“Yes.”

“What if I told you I did it to get your attention?”

“Tell me more, Elizabeth.”

“Would you believe me if I said I did it because I was in love with you?”

“No.”

I stopped seeing the patient as Elizabeth Yarring, and for a fleeting, terrible moment, I knew I was seeing her for what she truly was.