Through the Looking Glass {Chapter 1}

This is something i wanted to test out a bit. Didn't know if anyone would like it so this is just a tid bit i've written down. Rate and message if you think it's good or you want me to continue with it. Still trying to get the next Chapter of Beauty up. Thanks to all the readers. This is just a bit of an in-between chapters treat for all of those who've messaged me and kept me going. Thanks Again!
~Soulfulwriter

[pgbr]

File: Rothman/Peterson
Serial #: 340A87E00 0
Taped Session: #146
Note: These tapes were siezed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation after December 22, 2008. From the premises of Grove State Asylum after the untimely deaths of a resident and a staff member. The following are true events pieced together with taped sessions, eyewitness accounts, and other various pieces of written evidence. The following is a true account of the Grove Asylum murders told in a narrative fashion.



SESSION START:

............ (Static)..............

"Delilah, i'd like to ask you a few touchy questions today. Is that alright with you?"

"Well, why not Dr. Rothman? You've asked me every other Goddamn question on this God forsaken planet."

"It's Ian. And i see you've referenced God twice now, does that make you religious?"

"No, Ian. I'm more... spiritual than religious really. What about me? Do i get to ask any questions?"

"Well, if you like... i guess... So you're not part of an organized religion? In your file it states that you're Catholic. Care to explain why that changed?"

"Sure Doc, because once upon a time... religion protected me. And it doesn't anymore."

"Protected you from what Delilah?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, Silly doctor... it's my turn now."

"Ask away."

"What does it taste like? .... Freedom?"

"..... I'm not.... not exactly sure.... that freedom has a taste."

"Sure it does Ian, it's the way your first beer tastes, and the smell of cigarettes and sweat. It's driving your car with the top down. The way it tastes when you kiss a woman. Is it as sweet as i've imagined?..."

......... (Static)..............

"I've rotted away in tis place for 5 years, 7 months, and 12 days. I've counted. I feel like I've been sedated most of my conscious life. I'll never know it. So please, just indulge me."

"Yes," he whispered, "it's sweet."

END OF TAPE.


I remember the day well, it was crisp. Stifling but crisp in the way days go when you know your life is going to change. Like Christmas morning when you can feel change in the air. And you walk downstairs to find your mother crying, your father's bags by the door, and they tell you Santa Claus died. In a way, my way, i felt 8 years old again.

Maybe it was the walls, they matched the white tile floors. It could have been one of a thousand things. The antiseptic smell, the orderly's painted face, the flickering flourescent lights, or the fact that for the rest of my life... this is waht i had to look forward to. Working 9-5 in a hell hole like this. Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn't welcoming.

"Mr. Rothman? Mr. Rothman are you listening to me?" I snapped out of my own reverie and really looked at the obese woman in front of me. Had i been listening? Like a kid with ADHD in calculus class. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you so much for this wonderful opportunity." Even to my ears i sounded bored and ungrateful. Which is probably why she narrowed her eyes at me and thrust a thick file my way. "What's this?"

Snorting at me she gave me an evil little i'm-going-to-make-your-life-a-living-hell grin. A look i'd seen far too many times in my young life. "Your first case, sonny boy. Usually we don't hire young people like you. But Dr. Santori died unexpectedly in the middle of the night. And we needed someone quick." I'd never heard what happened to my predecessor of thirteen years. "I'm sorry to hear that. Did you know him long?" Kind, meaningless words. I couldnt tell if she appreciated them or not, she acted as if i hadn't spoken at all.

"Anyway, the University said you were the top of your class. This patient and Dr. Santori were particularly close. They met everyday. Delilah Peterson. Been here a while, poor thing, suffers from Dementia. Believes her delusions are all true, real head case. After a couple of weeks you'll start getting more case loads. One's locked in solitary for attempting to stab an Orderly with a shank made from a popsicle stick. Didn't work out so well for her."

"She seems like a model citizen." I retorted sarcastically, grabbing the file in an asanine way and leaving with only 'i've got an appointment' as a parting remark. I thought i heard a soft, "Be careful, Sonny." But i couldn't be sure. Careful of what, i wondered.

How do i describe meeting Delilah for the first time? Completely unlike anything i was prepared for. Yeah, i think that covers it. You see, classes can only teach you so much, but the one thing i was sure of was the state of patients who were classified 'criminally insane'. Either they happen to be drugged into a comatose state or they meander around half-alive until they have some sort of violent fit. But none of the years i spent in school could have prepared me for my first meeting with Delilah.

I only briefly looked at her file. She had murdered her parents after they signed the consent forms for her admittance into Grove State. Later, when questioned by the police, she claimed innocence refusing to believe they were dead. Much less that she had murdered them. I was expecting someone much much different. Some frightened, shaky girl who had horse tranquilizers for breakfast.

What i encountered was anything but.

I walked into the conference room, full of youthful pride and ambition. The seconds ticked by before an orderly opened the door to the left of me, leading her in. Completely coherent and collected she strode into the room more confident than i'd ever felt in my life. Taken aback i stood for her, a moment of chivalry i would ponder later. I think it was the way she carried herself, or the smile she gave me. As if she knew me. But for a moment, she felt like royalty. And i felt as if i was priveledged to have acquired a meeting with HER. Almost like she was making sure I was worthy. Like she was interviewing me.

Clearing my throat, i tried not to let her see how she had affected me. But she just gave me a knowing smile and sat gracefully, her hands folded in front of her. I sat and extended my hand, which i might add, she only stared at. Retracting it i finally spoke. "Miss Peterson, i'd like to offer my condolences." She laughed then, a cynical laugh i'd heard a a thousand times coming from my own mouth.

"Please Ian, skip the formalities. What is it you'd like to say?" She spoke eloquently. Nothing like the nercous, mumbling chatter i'd studied in so many taped sessions before. I wouldn't ask myself until much later that night, when i was supposed to be sleeping, how she knew my first name.

Flustered by her mannerisms, i stumbled over my next few words. "Well, I.... ummm.... just wanted to.... " She just looked amused. "Introduce yourself? Offer your sympathies and announce that you'd be my doctor from now on?" She finished for me in a sweet tone of voice. A dumbstruck, "yes" was the only thing i could say. "Well, you have now. So is it alright with you if i go back to arts and crafts now?" Again, like a broken record, "yes". She stood, one fluid moment where i caught myself thinking 'why the hell is she in here?'

"I'll see you soon. In the meantime, be careful. Tires are sturdy, yet sometimes under the right conditions they can be so delicate." She smiled again. Then she left in the same mysterious manner she came. At first i thought she had threatened me. Until after my orientation around the hospital, on my weary way home, three blocks from my broken down apartment, the front right tire of my old convertible blew out. Some idiot had broken a glass bottle on the road and my car paid the price. This was one of many reasons i didn't sleep that night. And why i was thoroughly looking forward to work the following day.