Violet

A short story that could possibly be described as Twilight Zone-esque?

“Do you know where you are?” The doctor asks the girl sitting across from her. She doesn’t get an answer. The girl just sits there, motionless, save for her hands; they’re clutching the sides of the hard, plastic chair she is sitting on. Tighter and tighter she squeezes, her knuckles turning white. Then, when she can’t grip any tighter, she lets go, stretches her fingers. Over and over she repeats this process. She doesn’t look at the two psychiatric officials seated in the big desk across from her- instead, she keeps her head down, her long dark hair covering her face.

The second doctor- the male- clears his throat. “Do you know where you are?” He repeats loudly and slowly, emphasizing each word. Speaking clearly. “Young lady! Answer the question!” He barks, causing the female doctor beside him to jump in her seat. Still, the girl does not move. She does not react at all.

“Do you know why you are here?” The woman tries, thinking that maybe asking a different question will work more effectively. “Do you know who we are? Do you know who you are?” She is able to stay more patient than her colleague, and avoids raising her voice too much. And yet, the girl remains silent. “We need to know who you are and where you come from.

You need psychiatric help, but we cannot help you if we don’t know anything about you. You had a psychotic break the other day. Do you remember that?” Her voice gets softer here, looking at the girl who must be no older than twenty- her own daughter’s age.

“We want to help you,” she continues in a pleading tone. “We know you are able to talk. We know what you believe you can do. It’s okay, dear. No one is reprimanding you. You won’t get in trouble for the threats you made. We just want to help you. If you cooperate with us, then together we can get to the root of the problem. We can cure your hallucinations.”

There is no longer a trace of authority in the doctor’s voice; just a soft kindness. Understanding. Empathy. Pity.

After several minutes of silence, both doctors look at each other and sigh in resignation. They stand up and begin to gather their papers, place them back into the unknown girl’s file. Suddenly, she laughs; one loud, barking laugh that breaks the silence. She continues chuckling soundlessly, her shoulders shaking. Head still down, curtain of hair still hiding her face. The doctors look back and forth between each other and their patient, shock coloring their faces.

“What hallucinations,” she finally hisses, “are you talking about?’

With slow movements, the man pulls out his chair and sits down. The metal legs of the chair make a scraping sound against the cheap linoleum as he scoots in closer to the desk. He places his elbows on the dark wooden surface, rests his chin on his hands, which are woven together. He looks at his fellow psychiatrist, who is standing by the door of the small room, her hand on the doorknob. With a nod of his head, he signals her to go ahead and leave. She slips out noiselessly.

After a moment, he turns back to the girl. “Now, I will answer your questions if you answer mine. How’s that sound?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Do you know where you are?” He looks at her over his glasses.

Her voice is dead and her reply is short. “I am a patient at a mental health institution in New Mexico.”

“Good,” The man says in a clipped voice. “Do you know who I am?”

“Dr. Richards.”

He nods. “Do you know who you are?”

Still not looking up, she answers, her voice still flat and emotionless. “My name is Violet.”

“That’s better than no answer at all, I suppose. But still not good enough. What’s your full name? And where are you from? I need all the information you can give me,” he insists.

“My name is Violet,” is her only reply.

“What else can you give me, Violet? I’m not playing games. If you want to play games, you can go to prison, where you belong, instead of wasting my time. Or you can end up in the streets,” he sneers. “Would you like that? Because believe you me, I am very much capable of that.”

“My name is Violet,” she drones, “and I’ve been sent here to do something important.”

“No, you haven’t,” Dr. Richards shakes his head. “Even if you weren’t crazy, someone like you would not be picked. You are an insignificant little twerp.” Here, he bangs his fist on the table. “Now tell me the truth!”

“My name is Violet, and I’ve been sent to kill. To eliminate the scum from the earth.”

He sighs and takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes in frustration. “You’ve said that before. That you’ve been sent to ‘kill’. But no one has sent you to kill anyone. You have told us all of this make-believe s**t already, Violet. It’s getting old.”

He opens her file, reads what is written on a sheet of paper there. “During your psychotic break earlier, you claimed that you are from another planet…One that I can assure you does not exist. And you have it in your head that they’ve sent you to kill God knows how many people. Let’s see…what else…Oh, and you think that you can kill a person just by looking at them? That you can manipulate peoples’ minds?” Dr. Richards scoffs and throws the folder down. It hits the desktop with a smack.

“Let me show you,” she whispers.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“It’s people like you,” Violet snarls, “that screw others up and over, just for their own well-being. It’s people like you…people like you who ruin lives, who think they’re God, who think they can do whatever they want and not worry about the cost.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an important man. Unlike you. No one cares about what happens to trash like you. We’re done here, Violet. You’re dismissed. Go back to your room,” he says with a wave of his hand.

Here she stands up slowly, raises her head, but keeps her eyes closed. “It’s people like you who don’t deserve half the things they have. I know you have more than that sweet woman. Dr. Carter. It’s people like you who give psychiatrists a bad name, when others, like her, try so hard. You think that you can control peoples’ lives because they are unwell. You don’t deserve your life. Your wealth,” she breathes.

“Excuse me?” The doctor snaps.

Violet ignores him. “Let me show you.” She opens her eyes, which are glowing a bright purple. “You think I’m hallucinating? You think you’re so Goddamned special? Let me prove it to you. You’re no better than anyone else on this pathetic planet. In fact, you’re lower than half the people you talk down to. You should have been kinder. More humble. You think you know everything? Well let me show you.” She starts laughing again, frightening the man now cowering before her.

He’s finally grasping what is going on. Starting to panic. He tries to stand up, stumbles out of his chair and falls against the wall. He struggles to get up, to shield himself, but he can’t. Violet’s stare has him paralyzed, both metaphorically and literally. He tries to call out, but minimal sound escapes his mouth. All that is heard is a hoarse plea. A red spot appears on his shirt, right over his heart, and he gasps, his eyes widening.

The spot grows bigger and bigger, blooming across his whole chest, until eventually he slumps over. Violet lowers her gaze from the doctor and returns to her seat in the middle of the small white room. And waits. It doesn’t take long before what she’s anticipating happens.

The door bursts open, slams against the wall with a bang. “Oh, dear lord! What’s happened?” A woman’s shrill voice screams from the doorway. Instant chaos ensues. Psychiatric officials rush in, all asking the same questions at the same time.

Before anyone can get to the doctor, he sits up with a groan. Looks around confusedly. He frowns.

“Wha…what’s going on…?” He questions, his voice slurring just a little bit. His eyes are unfocused. His mouth twists around like he’s going to cry. “What did you do?” He yells at Violet. She doesn’t look up. “What did you do?!” He shrieks, standing up.

Doctors and nurses rush to his side, try to steady him, ask him what’s going on. “It was her!” He points an accusing finger at Violet. “She did it! She messed with my mind! She tried to kill me!”

“That can’t be right,” interjects Dr. Carter. “Violet hasn’t moved a muscle…We couldn’t even get her to look at us. She couldn’t have done anything.”

“It was her! It was her!” He keeps screaming, still pointing, looking around wildly. “She looked at me, threatened me, her eyes were glowing! They were glowing! Then she made my chest bleed without even touching me!” Dr. Richards’ eyes are crazed now, open wide, darting from face to face. He looks down at his chest, where his white button up shirt and tie are untainted- not a bloodstain in sight. His shaking hands grasp his spotless shirt while he mutters to himself. “It was there. It was there. I know it was. It was there! She did it! She did!”

Throughout the room, doctors and nurses alike begin to murmur amongst themselves. They muse with each other about what they should do.

“He’s obviously had some sort of psychotic episode,” says one woman.

“Yes,” agrees another man. “we need to get him sedated and in for evaluation immediately,” he announces to the rest of the people in the room. All together they work at holding the used-to be doctor down as they inject him with a mild tranquilizer. Two men hoist him up, then half carry him away while he mutters softly to himself as he begins to lose consciousness.

Through the calamity of this event, Violet remains seated, completely still, with her hands clutching the sides of her hard plastic chair. As they drag what used to be the amazing Dr. Richards out of the room, she slowly looks up, right into his crazed eyes, and smiles.

“Now who’s the crazy one?” She whispers, just loud enough for him to hear.

Reviews

[John F Carver]

The doctor's fate I am afraid is more realistic than the alien's, these days. No one wants to listen to crazies anymore. Pump them full of user friendly thorazine, that's their answer anymore. Still this was fiction and had it been more realistic i mightn't have read as far as I did. O how so many wish the reality of insanity was like this.

[KB]

Well thank you very much for reading and giving me some feedback! It is very much appreciated. And yes, I do agree. I have experience with such doctors, and I suppose that is probably partially where the idea came from!