- Text Size +
The young man sitting across from her was restless, his foot tapping the floor incessantly and his bloodshot eyes nervously flashing through the office. Caffeine. Mellory Phillips made a quick note about it as she observed his behavior. He was clearly agitated, possibly a result from the little sleep he was managing to get. His hands were shaking as he wrapped them around the warm cup of tea she had offered him and he carefully took a sip of the scalding liquid inside.

“Have you had any dreams last night?” Mellory decided to start the conversation.

Brian slowly swallowed his tea, avoiding her eyes; “I haven’t really slept at all last night.”

Mellory nodded, seeing the fear in his expression. He was afraid to dream, which wasn’t at all uncommon for someone with his condition. “Would you like me to prescribe something stronger in terms of sleeping pills?”

Brian thought about it, “I don’t know. Will it help?”

“Likely,” she nodded.

“Will I dream?”

“That is hard to say,” Mellory replied truthfully, “It will cause your mind to be more at ease, so it’s possible that there won’t be any dreams.”

“Okay,” Brian said quickly.

Mellory Phillips made a quick note about it.

“Would you like to start right now?” she asked.

“I don’t... I don’t know.” He was rather hesitant today, and Mellory wondered why.

“Brian, is there something wrong?” she asked.

“I’m- I don’t,” he struggled to speak, his hand unconsciously tightening around the dog leash. “What if I start to remember?”

“It’s not unlikely,” Mellory nodded, understanding. “But it’s important to give it a place, to not have to put it away. Because you know that it seems easier now, but it will become much harder in the long run.”

“I don’t want to,” Brian answered, a bit more determined, “There must be a reason that I don’t remember this stuff, I don’t think I should dig it up.”

Mellory wasn’t fooled as he blinked nervously at her, “Has something happened, Brian? Are you remembering?” she questioned, a bit stern.

“I can’t talk about it,” Brian replied coldly, his eyes drilling through hers. She held his gaze willingly, not giving in.

“You can say anything here, you know that,” She gave him the same answer as she always did.

“I know,” he responded, “I’m- I’m scared of what will happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“What will I become?” he looked at her helplessly and she nodded calmly.

“I understand your fears, Brian. But the reason you are not able to sleep right now, is because there’s a lot of unresolved trauma hiding somewhere in your mind. We must find a way to deal with that. I’m only here to help you.”

He bit his lip and stared at his hands. It took quite a while before he spoke, “I think I’m seeing things. You know, things that aren’t really there?”

Mellory swallowed, careful not to let him see her concern. Hallucinations were a symptom of far-progressed PTSD, and although there was no doubt that Brian had the disorder, it came as a bit of a surprise to have him admit to severe symptoms like that. He had been doing really well for a very long time. He had made gigantic leaps in his recovery from the first time that she’d seen him. Maybe it was too fast. Mellory was disappointed in herself that she hadn’t been able to prepare him for what might happen. She wondered if she hadn’t forced him into reality too quickly. “What kind of things are you experiencing?” she asked, her voice urgent, but still calm.

“Thomas,” Brian replied without hesitation.

Mellory Phillips made a quick note about it.

“Is he here right now?” she asked, looking up from her bloc-note.

Brian nodded slowly, “Yeah, he’s here,” he said, staring at a point on the opposite wall.

“Is he ever talking to you, or is he just there?” Mellory wanted to know.

“He’s... quite talkative.”

“What kind of things does he say?”

“Just... useless stuff, really. About the dog, and dinner.”

Mellory nodded, a bit relieved, “Does he ever talk about the time you spent away?”

Brian’s expression hardened and he clenched his jaw, “No.”

Mellory nodded again quickly, showing him she was on his side no matter what. Brian was watching her sternly, still as a statue now. Mellory had to suppress a sigh. They weren’t getting anywhere today, it seemed. They might as well end the session right there. “So, would you like to-”

“Do you know what hunger is?” Brian suddenly asked. His expression had changed into a dark, sinister gaze and his voice was low and controlled.

Mellory’s brow creased as she observed the sudden difference in his stature. His shoulders and back had straightened and he seemed to be looking down on her. “I don’t-”

“See, you might think you know what it’s like. Like, you may have read a book or two with descriptions of it. But you don’t know the real deal.”

Doctor Phillips sat back a bit, trying to figure the sudden change out. “You don’t have to listen to him, Brian,” she commented eventually.

“It starts with just the need for food, completely normal,” he continued, ignoring her, “Then it starts to hurt. Like, these shooting sharp pains that continuously let you know that you need to eat. And then you start shaking and passing out at random times. And then you find yourself unable to coordinate your own movements. And then... then you don’t even want food anymore. Then you just want to lie down and sleep. And that’s when he would come in with a plate of plain spaghetti. Not much, just enough to keep you alive.”

Brian spoke about the memory without any kind of emotion or attachment, like he was just giving a presentation of a project he didn’t care about. The disconnection was alarming and Mellory studied him in concern. He stared back with no interest; the dog lying at his feet was now looking at him too, seemingly sensing the change in his composure as well. “It’s a start, we c-”

“There’s no need to explore any of these memories further,” Brian didn’t let her continue, “It’s useless and harmful. You don’t want to know what happened to me. I don’t want to know what happened to me. Because the things that happened to me are horrifying, and the memories fucking hurt!”

He screamed the last bit, throwing the glass of tea to the ground and Mellory jumped back in her seat. The dog barked anxiously and Brian’s face twisted in anger. His eyes shifted slightly to a spot next to Mellory and she saw the hatred and disgust clearly written on his face. His hands were balled into fists and were shaking on the arm rests of his chair. For a moment, Mellory was sure he was going to lash out. But then he seemed to snap out of it, cleared his throat awkwardly and slowly got up.

“I apologize,” he said, his voice soft and slightly shaking. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“It’s- it’s okay,” Mellory replied, for once not able to hide her own unease.

“I understand if you don’t want to provide therapy for me any longer,” Brian’s gaze was directed to the ground.

“You are as welcome here as ever,” Mellory said without hesitation. She knew there were going to be a lot of setbacks, that it was no easy road to recovery and that Brian would need intensive therapy for the rest of his life, but these kind of cases were her specialty, and outbursts like this were something she’d dealt with a lot in her professional career.

His blue eyes traveled upwards, relieved, “thank you.”