When It's Time to Move On

Door 3 - Chapter 31 - Positive

It was all there, everything that confirmed Harris's suspicions. Dr. Roslin had, in fact, not gotten his blood tested. The report resembled what seemed like a psychiatric report.

'Heavily deluded. Attributed to parent issues.'

'Misguided sense of self-importance. Narcissistic personality disorder.'

'Hypochondriac due to lack of socializing.'

His breath fumed over the words. The analysis originated back years since he had first visited her. That meant each time she had bid him goodbye it had been with a sense of condescension.

'Once more visiting to fulfill hole of emptiness, latent abandonment issues arising.'

'Placebo to be issued, fabrication of tests to be divulged to patient. No IV testing to be carried out.'

'Patient to be discouraged from visiting.'

Harris flung the file across the room. The room encapsulated in darkness, somehow felt even more so. He held his head in his hands; he had hoped to feel some sort of resolution on confronting Dr. Roslin, but that had not been the case. If anything, barging back into her office and yelling at her felt more appealing than sitting around in his apartment. But he didn't have the strength.

He sank back in his chair like an old man in the evening. But it wasn't as if he had much to do anyway, he thought. Dr. Roslin's comments whisked through his head the more he tried to block them out. 

'Lack of socializing'. Well, she'd gotten that correct, but what gave her the right to judge him like that? And as for his narcissism, what was a patient supposed to do? Ask the doctor how her day was?

Still, perhaps what stung the most was the silent admission that she had a point. There wasn't any socializing as far as he was concerned. And one of the reasons he'd been gripped with grief in his final moments had been the lamentation of his lack of personal relationships. 

But then he also felt as if he'd redeemed himself over that – a certain man with a large hat and another with a Mickey Mouse wristwatch would be happy to concur with him – so Dr. Roslin had no clue what her assessment was.

The glare from the outside fell on the far end of the room – the file he'd thrown, with Dr. Roslin's signature clearly emblazoned on it – Harris felt the rigor return, as he made up his mind for the next day.

The hospital looked different compared to the previous night. A perfect mirage to cover up the obscenities within, Harris thought, as he calmly walked in. The nurses peered at him nervously, no doubt expecting another scene from him. Harris ignored the stares and entered Dr. Roslin's office.

She sat – or rather lay – at her desk. Her hair completely obscured her head which was nestled between her arms. Her body heaved slightly, evidently, she was asleep. It didn't seem as if she hadn't left the office since Harris had last seen her. 

The state of the room remained the same, the pile of folders hadn't been moved from the windowsill. Harris, unsure of whether to wake her up, picked up the pile and deposited them at her desk with a thud. Dr. Roslin yanked awake.

"Who...?" She murmured drowsily. "You left..."

"About 7 hours ago." He informed her. She jerked up in alarm, checking her watch to confirm, and brushed her air off as if it were a morning ritual.

"Why are you here?"

"You didn't forget what we talked about." He wasn't fooled.

"Well, the results should be here in a while." Dr. Roslin told him disdainfully, looking outside the window as though mulling between leaving or staying around with him. Harris wondered what could be so undesirable out there that she had to consider the two alternatives.