The Doctors Office

“I was walking through the street the other day, I don’t go outside anymore because of it”. Dr Gerald breathed a sigh of relief as the suspect drew ever closer to his fatal demise, he was never wanted as such and in his head he was the only person that thought so. “…and I have been thinking that people can tell what I’m thinking…”, the esteemed doctor looked on half dazed with fascination and reluctantly recalled a meeting with one of his former patients. David Myers sat on the sofa of the #psychiatrists office - filled with dozens of certificates of academic achievement and memorabilia of past incursions behind enemy lines all upon the walls. The doctor was a former medic turned psychiatrist after the events of the first Gulf War, he used to treat soldiers suffering with post traumatic stress. David stood up from the sofa, paced a few yards up and down and sat back on the sofa. “My mother never wanted children, I used to think I was nothing more than an accessory to her, I’m an only child, I never had anyone growing up, all I did was watch the television, I remember, I learnt so much.” Dr Gerald stopped breathing for a second, how could this man learn anything from such an abominable source such as the television? Were his exact thoughts. “I mean it wasn’t all bad, I had my friend Chucky with me all the time, wow, actually I’m getting quite excited now doc! He was everything to me, we used to play Murder.” Dr Gerald had his fingers susceptibly close to the ashtray, wanting just one drag of his cigarette. One might think this doctor had a few too many run-ins with patients before, recalling the exact moment when this former patient brutally slashed his dog Chile in the abdomen with a fountain pen. “Sorry, what was that David? I couldn’t hear you, too many rounds flying past my head in the Gulf. You were telling me about your childhood…”. David Myers had been here before, the screams and the yells from the kitchen, “Get your fucking clothes on, get to school you ugly piece of shit!…you’re stupid…get back to work, I’m not paying you to drink Myers!”. “So many memories are locked up inside me, I cant even remember, is their something wrong with me? Because I don’t feel that this is my life I’m leading, I cant think at all and I just cant be bothered with my painting anymore” said David apathetically. “Its your world David, you were born, I suggest you make the most of it. I’ve given you so many chances, this is it, you either attend these therapy sessions or I will detain you, you are far too unpredictable to be out in the world, think yourself lucky I haven’t so far, I’m giving you one more chance, you will talk or I will phone the hospital.” David turned his eyes out the window; a crisp winter morning, a tear fell down his cheek.
He had been through hell and all Dr Gerald wanted was for him to be locked away safe and sound in a place deep in the ground. “Lord Grisham General hospital is at ground level but in the basement is the secure psychiatric ward. I remember you when you were only eight years of age David, we sectioned you for setting fire to your bedroom, for arson at your old house, do you remember?… David?”.