Full of Imperfections

Desperate to fix herself, Miss Cleary was willing to resort to anything. But the defect she found didn't really exist...

 

She couldn’t stop staring at it. It was hideous, in desperate need of something, anything that could make it softer, smoother, cleaner. She hated it, wanted to cover it, hide it away, but she couldn’t stop staring long enough to do so. Her face contorted deeper into disgust by the second. She didn’t understand why the doctors couldn’t give her something to fix it. She’d begged them for the things she had back at home. The creams and powders that made her forget about it for a few seconds at least. She wanted the long sleeves and the gloves that could protect her from the site of it.

            A bell went off somewhere and she peeled herself away from it for a second, looking at the time. Therapy, every day there was therapy, always at two in the afternoon. The bell told her she had ten minutes to get there. She wrapped herself in the blanket, hiding it from view as she walked through the halls. Others wandered around her and she hid every inch of it that she could from them. Living in ward two was terrifying, everyone was allowed to roam the halls and she was guaranteed to run into someone, regardless the time of day.

            She made her way to the office and knocked once, immediately told to enter just after her fist hit the door. Dr. Laidler was sitting comfortably in his chair, a notebook out in front of him. “How are you this afternoon Miss Cleary?” he crossed his fingers under his chin as she settled onto the couch, pulling the comforter tighter around herself.

            “I need something to make it go away, to fix it.” She begged, her eyes full of suffering. “Make it get better.”

            “You have to come to see it as other’s do.” Dr. Laidler said softly. His face had pity written all over it. He pitied her for having it, just like everyone else.  

            Miss Cleary shivered at the thought of letting anyone else see it. “They hate it to, I know they do.” She muttered. “They all stare at me, they want me to fix it. But you won’t let me. I need to fix it, it’s not good enough.”

            “Miss Cleary, you can’t just keep saying it, you need to come to terms with what your problem is.” He never looked away from her, staying perfectly calm. “Why don’t you hand me your blanket.”

            “NO!” she shouted, getting off the couch and moving to stand behind it, farther away from him. “My skin….you can’t see my skin. I hate it, you have to give me something to fix it.”

            The doctor sighed, getting up and coming toward her slowly. “Just let me see, then we can talk about getting you something alright?” he held out his hand, waiting for her to make a move. In the eight months that she’d been here she always left at this moment, getting as far away from the office as possible.

            But today was different. She handed him the corner of the blanket with shaking hands, closing her eyes as she gave up her protection. She shut her eyes tight, terrified of his reaction as the blanket fell away, revealing the simple clothing provided by the hospital. Her alabaster skin was flawless, stretching beautifully over her thin figure. “There is nothing wrong with your skin Miss Cleary.” He assured her, handing her back the blanket to try and make her more comfortable.

            “Everything is wrong with it.” She whined, wrapping herself up like a child hiding from a storm. “Please help me fix it.”

            “There’s nothing I can do.” Dr. Laidler went back to his desk, settling into his seat. He pulled up the set of paperwork that was Miss Cleary’s file.

            She stared at him a moment, lost and confused before turning and running out of the office. She had showed him and he hated her now, he had to, everyone who saw it did. She hid away in her room, huddled on the bed and praying that no one would come to see her. And begging that one day, they would give her a way to fix it, and that it would get better.

*   *   *

He was shocked when the blanket was placed in his hand. The fabric was rough in his hands, just like every blanket given to patients in the institute. When he glanced up at her he had to desperately hold back a smile. Her skin was beautiful, she was beautiful. She was all legs, lovely auburn hair spilling over her pale skin in curling waves and eyes that perfectly matched the tone of her hair. The dotting of freckles on her cheeks was the thing she hated most, but it made her seem younger, innocent.

            He tried to assure her that her skin was perfect, just like always. But this was the only time he’d actually been able to speak true words, the first time he’d been allowed to see the thing she wanted to disappear. Her response was expected, never changing from day to day, so he moved to his desk, not wanting to pursue the matter farther than necessary. He knew she would walk out, so there was no need to stop her.

He watched her go, she would no doubt curl up on her bed and hide for the next few hours, she always did. She had made great strides through the healing process recently, and that concerned him greatly. He looked down at the file and started to add notes to the page. Able to show skin, but showed great distress. BDD is getting slightly better. Recommendation is that time in therapy is reduced in order to slow the recovery process.  

He closed off the file, disheartened. If she recovered they would no longer have a patient suffering from Body Dismorphic Disorder in the institute. He made a mental note to stroll through ward two and convince a few patients to feed into her delusions. It was the only way he could guarantee that she would regress back to the state she had been when they collected her from her family. Hopefully they could regress her past that point, cause the true face of her illness to appear. They’d have to move her to a different ward if that were the case, worsening BDD often led to suicide and they couldn’t have that.  

She was a very valuable asset, although, should another with the disorder be obtained her healing may be necessary to keep suspicion about the institute to minimum levels. They knew healing was possible for her now, something they couldn’t say about many of the patients in the institute. Many were too far gone when they arrived, others became worse and worse the longer they stayed. Of course, everyone that came was warned that those being admitted may never return to normal society. It was a risk that was taken by families to aid their loved ones, but all they were really doing was leaving them to suffer until the end of their lives.