To know you is to hate you: #20 So deep, its bleeding.

I was a specimen, all cadged up and beaten from the inside out. At least, I felt it. Jennings held a clipboard on her knee; I sat cross legged on the overstuffed chair, tapping my fingers against its arms. The questions she asked me were to be expected. Memory loss, black outs, vomiting; you name it she asked about it. It was mostly about waking up scared and confused but she also asked intimate questions, things no one had ever asked me before.

Was I lonely in life? Was I scared of rejection or abandonment? It really made me think in a way I never wanted to. She was making me question myself and at some point she would give me the answers, but did I really want to hear them? Or are their something’s people just shouldn’t know in order for a quiet, happy life?

I felt as if I was being prodded continually with a very blunt, very large knife. Each question she asked dwelled deeper into my childhood, my relationships with others and, of course, the inner cogs of my mind. I could feel myself becoming more and more frustrated with everything she said, whether it be a question or not. She was kind, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t like all this ‘invading of my space’.

“Please, can we just stop?” I asked.

It was only my first session with her after all; we shouldn’t be getting so intense.

“I need to get information for your diagnosious Mr Armstrong. I apologize that this is so tedious but it has to be done.” She sighed, “Many of my clients don’t like this part of the process, but I assure you now it gets worse. But It is worth it in the end.”

“I understand that but – but isn’t this a little too much for our first meeting?”

“I would seem but it’s necessary. Would you like a mug of coffee before we continue?”

“No thank you. Maybe you should tell my wife and Mike to go home. I don’t want them getting bored y’know?”

“I assure you Mr Armstrong we won’t be much more than thirty minutes. I’ll call a nurse to make them coffee and then we can continue.”

She did just that. I could just picture the awkward silence between the two in the waiting room, usually they were such good friends but somehow I knew the circumstances had lead to a change in atmosphere.

Jennings sat back down and beckoned me to continue. More questions were asked and more answers were murmured. That half an hour was the longest I had ever injured.

“I’ll be honest Mr Armstrong. What is going on here is definitely psychological. The bump on the head must have awoken something in the unconscious brain and has left you with the possible condition on multiple personality disorder. It’s not uncommon amongst head injuries but it is often linked to childhood traumas also. “

I was speechless and numb. My emotions were so mixed; was I scared, or angry or upset? I couldn’t tell. Jennings offered me a soft smile.

“Mr Armstrong you seem shocked?”

“I- I was expecting an actual mental disorder. I was expecting something that was temporary, that would go away with time. T-This won’t!”

“Mr Armstrong it is all a matter of opinion but I personally believe that this can be contained and controlled. Medication can help you contain the condition and regular sessions with therapists can help you understand why you have it.”

“I have this because some fuckers attacked me when my back was turned!” I snapped.

“I don’t believe that to be so Mr Armstrong. Yes, it was the spark but it wasn’t the fire. I think underlying issues were planted and were only brought to light due to the attack.”

I sat forward and hid my face in the palms of my hands. This wasn’t happening; it couldn’t be. Every fibre in my body was telling me to walk out and leave but for some reason I didn’t.

“Don’t be gettin your tail in a twist honey, just go with it.”

I nodded as if approving Twitch’s words. He was right after all, he may only have been a voice inside my head but he was fucking right.

The silence in the room was unnerving. I could feel Jennings eyes boring holes into my skin, she was sitting so patiently and peacefully that I felt almost unable to move for fear of disrupting her. However I couldn’t take one more lonely tick of the clock nor could I stand the beating of my own heart in my ears, so I sat up right. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

“Mr Armstrong it is in your best interest that you agree to our treatment.” Jennings stated.

“I know.” I nodded, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

The smile that spread along her face was almost sadistic and I cringed a little at its sudden appearance.

“Excellent. We can get started as soon as possible. Two day’s say?”

Two days left of freedom. Wouldn’t the rat be running now?