A Porcelain Doll

Margret was only eight when she witnessed something that would change her life. The institute claimed they could help her, but it won't be as easy as it seems.

She sat on the end of the bed, her legs folded beneath her slim frame and her arms laid out neatly on her knees. Her eyes were open, cast down to stare at a spot on the floor. The hospital blanket was draped over her shoulders like a shawl, keeping out the chill that always filled the room.

            The doctor sat in a chair by the door, on watch for the night. Margret Bastian had been here for only nine hours and had been under constant surveillance for any sign of movement. He got up slowly, approaching her with caution. He waved his hand in front of her face but she didn’t even blink, just kept staring ahead of her. Kneeling down, he spoke to her. “Margret, can you understand me? I need you to communicate with me.”

            The eight year old let out a heavy puff of air into his face without shifting even the slightest bit. For the first time in almost a half hour she slowly closed her eyes and reopened them. It was the only real sign they had that she was still alive. Her breathing was so shallow that her chest didn’t move. He reached up and placed a hand on her forehead, lifting her head up to face the wall instead of the floor. She allowed him to do it, and when he removed her head she remained frozen where he had placed her.

            “Come on Margret, your mother is very worried about you.” He said softly, shifting her arms so they laid at her sides. “I know you can hear me.”

            Her arms moved like those of a doll, easily manipulated into the new position. And just like a doll, she left them there. He moved back to the chair, pulling out a book that Mrs. Bastian had brought along with her daughter. “I heard you liked this book Margret, that it was your favorite.” He held it in front of her face and gave her a simple smile. Still nothing. “Would you like me to read it to you?” He waited five minutes before he settled into his chair and read aloud. The child never moved; never reacted; never spoke as the minutes turned into hours.

            When another doctor came to the door he got up, more than ready to leave the silent space. “Any luck?” the second doctor questioned, turning to look at the girl. They both stood in the open door, neither worried about the patient making a break for it.  

            “No, I don’t know what she experienced, but it must have been terrible to do this.” He said softly. “I’ve never seen anyone so deep into catatonia before. It’s really quite amazing.”

            The other doctor nodded his agreement. “Would treatment be possible?” She questioned, glancing over at the young child.

            “If we really tried, but not if she’s left to her own devices.” He assured her, starting to walk down the hall. “I’m going to put in an order to take her down for testing. I want to see what’s going on in that brain of hers.”

            The woman nodded, sealing herself away in the chamber to await the nurses with their gurney. Catatonia had come to the institute in the past, but always for a short time. Each patient had been able to deal with their inner demons on their own, without medical aid. Margret was different. She had been through hell, or at least, that was what they believed. And as young as she was she would be unable to understand, let along confront the problems she faced. She’d be with them a long, long time, and that was exactly what they wanted.