the state of being obsessed with someone or something. "she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind and thoughts
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“Sir,I don't think you understand the gravity of what you're asking me to do.” The whisper falls from my lips but it's heard clearly in this dead silent room.
“No Diaz, you don't understand.” He yells at me, his fist slamming into the hardwood table. “I've got the mayor breathing down my neck and people want answers that I can't give because you're dragging your feet.”
I clench my own fists, digging my fingernails into their palms as I work to stay calm.
1: sunrise eyes
2: graceful hills
3: warm Earth
4: vibrant laughter
5: moon beam strands of silk
6: soft hands
7: fragrant breath
8: mending souls
9: a strengthening gaze
10: an accepting smile
I let out that tenth breath, opening my eyes to regard the man before me.
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“With all due respect, what we're dealing with us more than psychopathy,” I explain to him with fist still clenched while I struggle to maintain a submissive expression, “the patient shows signs of being schizophrenic, having Histrionic Personality Disorder, and the most severe of them all, PTSD. Not to mention overlaying depression that stems from childhood traumas I've barely scratched the surface on.”
Dr. Remold gives an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he again slams those beefy hands onto the mahogany desktop. “Then just pick a pill, damn it and give it to her with her orange juice. “
Who the fnck have him his diploma?
“I'm sorry sir,” as usual I'm the one saying sorry, I'm the one who acts like the Fncking adult in the situation, “ I won't do that. As doctors, our job it's to protect and help patients who come through that gate not shove pills down their throats. Any idiot can do that.”
So much for being the adult in this situation, but screw it. I'm tired of being the professional but not being paid or treated like one. This conversation was going nowhere, the only thing achieved is making me late for the next patient and backing my whole schedule up. Just thinking about how I'm going to sort through the chaos is giving me a migraine as push the chair back and stand.
“Diaz wa-”
“Now, if you'll excuse me, I have real work to do and you're holding me up.” I snarl over him with my hands glued to my temples as an endless throb pulses through me.
My vision swims as I ignore whatever it is Dr. Remold barks at me, I just move forward towards the door and down the dark and empty Hall. Finally alone, I lean against the wall massaging the pain trying to push it back only for it to keep coming and coming. It consumes my thoughts I can't think at all there are just colors and blurred pictures, a clamoring of voices in my ears.
Remold:just do what you're told. Clock in, clock out like everyone else.
My professor:If you keep those ideals you'll never make it in this profession
My older brother:that brain of yours is the exact reason you've never been laid,no babes gonna want a guy who wears the same shirt size as her
My father:if it weren't for your brother, I'd never know what it's like to have a son.
Everyone in my ear telling me what to do,who i should be, how i should behave, always in some way, shape, or form telling me that I am and never will be good enough
They don't care what I want only one voice says something of use, an actual comfort. Her voice trampled all others, it's soothing and pushes out from amongst the chaos and puts them into order somehow without really changing it. Almost as if her very presence was enough
You can't live your life for other people Matty is you want something than take it. Don't let anyone tell you you can't.
I let out a jagged breath through clenched teeth as I let my body slide to the floor, a small voice inside of me says I shouldn't be doing this out in the open for all to see, it doesn't look good. You're a doctor not a patient, you're supposed to be the stable one, the one they lean upon for strength. It seemed like I was the one who relied heavily upon my sessions with a particular patient, finding that my jumbled nerves and skin crawling anxiety calmed to a faint, almost dull buzzing in the back of my head. She's supposed to be psychotic, but other than being a bit strange, she seemed to have her head screwed into her shoulders far better than I. When it came to self-confidence and personal identity, Ember Les Madaton was far more sure of herself. I don't think she has ever once questioned who she is, even when we've tried drilling into her head for almost a month now that who she is isn't right she never once believed us. She always let it go in one ear and out the other, happily living in a world of her own when we became "annoying" as she put it and completely ignore us. How she does it for so long, hour after hour, day after day,I can't wrap my head around. But perhaps I could learn a thing or two from her. If being sane means going insane, it's gotta be worth a try. . .
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___ ___ This update could and should have been better but i am only a trashcan author who does the best she can with anxiety, a short attention span and insomnia. 🤷♀️
Here are some specific questions I have for you guys
What did your think of the past two chapters over all
Would you like more Matthew Povs
What are your thoughts on the abstract themes in the chapter, things that didn't quite seem to belong but hopefully came across like it has purpose in the plot
I really do love hearing what you guys think and I'd be over the moon to see readers coming up with theories of their own about this story. There's no such thing as dumb or obvious I want to read every possible angle my readers are viewing the plot.
