Day One
A short time after Luka left, John was summoned to one of the therapy rooms. He walked in and found himself laughing quietly. The room was full of beanbags and pillows, lots and lots of pillows. A man with salty brown hair sat in a window seat, watching outside. He smiled when John entered.
"You must be John." He stuck out his hand, crossing the room to meet John half way. "I'm Nick."
"Hi." John smiled, still looking around. The room was carpeted with thick plush carpeting and was totally void of furniture but all those pillows looked inviting. "I assume I'm in the right room?" He smirked.
Nick had a clipboard with John's file. "This is it, one of our many therapy rooms. Did you get a tour?" Nick asked.
"Uh, yes, thank you. My friend who brought me here said he stayed here a while back and Dr. Sajak let him show me around. I guess you were in with someone at the time." John said, watching Nick move to an area piled high with pillows.
"Please, take a seat," Nick motioned.
John couldn't help but to laugh as he looked around with a rather puzzled expression on his face. "Where?" he asked, seeing no chairs, no sofa, nowhere to sit.
"You've never sat on a beanbag, have you?" He smiled, motioning to the pile of fluffy bags on the floor. Nick sat, making himself comfortable. John shrugged and joined him.
"Well, I do have to say." John sat on a beanbag and almost rolled off it. "This is different than my last therapists office," he chuckled, figuring out a way to sit comfortably. He found it surprisingly nice, sort of reminding him of his sessions with Veronica, where she placed the pillows all around his body.
Nick watched in amusement as John tried to situate himself. "John, for all I care, you can lie down, hug them, do whatever makes you comfortable. That's the key here," he suggested.
Once John seemed relatively comfortable, Nick decided it was time to begin. "So, tell me, John. You mentioned your other therapist. Are you currently seeing a therapist?" He asked, opening John's chart.
"Well not any more. See, she's a friend who is a therapist in New York. While she was visiting me a few weeks ago, we began hypnosis to find out, well, I guess to find out why I kept having these flashbacks," John began.
"Can you tell me why you quit seeing this therapist?" Nick searched the notes not finding what he was looking for. "I don't seem to have a name for her," he stated.
"She said she didn't think that she could help me that I was beyond her expertise or something." John ran his hand through his hair. "But I don't want her to know that I'm here, she'll tell Abby," he squirmed around nervously.
"John it's very important that we find out what she knows, under hypnosis she may have learned some things about you that you're not aware of that we could use to help you." Nick explained seeing that this was making John uncomfortable.
"We can get that information later. Now tell me about these flashbacks?" Nick asked.
"Well, I don't know if you can call them flashbacks. Sometimes, well, sometimes things get a bit overwhelming, you know. I get to thinking and find myself feeling these bad feelings like anger or severe depression and I sort of zone out." He shrugged. "I usually wake up a short time later and I'm on the balcony or sitting in front of the fireplace. This time I had broken the bathroom mirror with my fist. I don't remember doing it. I just get all these feelings… and the next thing you know, I'm huddled up in a corner," he said, embarrassed to have to explain it but Nick hardly flinched.
"Do you remember anything while you're doing this? Any feelings, emotions," Nick prodded.
John nodded, unable to meet Nick's eyes. "Voices," he mumbled.
"John, do these voices ever tell you to do things like hurt yourself or someone else?" Nick asked.
"Listen, Nick. I'm crazy but not that crazy," John laughed. "No, it's just about me, about how many mistakes I've made in my life," he admitted, looking at Nick.
Smiling, Nick looked over John's chart. "Says here you're a doctor."
"Yes, I'm a Chief Resident," John said, nodding. The beanbags were quite comfortable and John found himself pulling one of the pillows onto his lap.
"Well, you can't make many mistakes in your work, otherwise you'd have never made it that far. Chief Resident is a pretty prestigious position." Nick smiled, noting how John was hugging one of the pillows.
"I applied but my boss returned my application. I only got it by default. They fired the one that beat me out for the job because she killed a patient and I got it just because I'd been there so long," he said sadly.
"Why'd your boss return your application?" Nick questioned.
John brought the pillow he was holding up towards his chest and he leaned his chin on the top. "Well, a couple years ago, a medical student and I were stabbed during a shift. Lucy died but I was 'lucky' enough to survive."
"That would be what you were referring to here on your paperwork?" Nick pointed out the self-assessment tool John had completed. He wasn't quite clear what this had to do with his question.
"Yes," John confirmed.
"You state here it was due to lack of your attention. Can you explain that?" Nick asked.
John took a deep breath. "Well, Lucy and I had been fighting all day, I was supposed to be supervising her, and I blew her off. She presented me with a patient and Lucy knew her psych. She said he was schizophrenic and I told her to call psych and I blew her off." John took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"The guy had gotten a knife from the lounge. He stabbed Lucy twice in the neck, twice in the stomach and once in the back. It was Valentine's Day and they were having a party in the admit area. I went looking for Lucy to find out why she hadn't done a leg lac that I'd given her hours ago and I walked into the room..." John paused, seeing the event in his mind as if it were happening for the first time. "There was this paper heart on the floor. Yosh, one of our nurses had been giving them out all day. The room was dark but I didn't think to turn on the lights. I bent over to pick up the card and that's when I was stabbed. At first, I didn't know what happened. I mean the room was dark and all I felt was the pain in my back." John's hand instinctively went to his back. "I looked at my hand and it was covered with blood. That's when the pain started. My leg gave out and I fell to the floor." John explained, staring intently.
Nick watched his face change, first of pain then slowly to recognition.
"She was…" John said quietly. "She was laying on the floor on the other side of the bed. God, there was so much blood. She looked at me, pleading with her eyes for me to help her. I screamed but the music was so loud. I lay there, looking at Lucy's face I don't know for how long. She couldn't scream. She knew she was dying and she begged me to help, and I couldn’t." John whispered. A tear rolled down his cheek.
After several moments, he cleared his throat and refocused. "After that, I began abusing my pain medications and ended up addicted. The hospital sent me to rehab for three months and that's why I didn't get the job." John shrugged, not having expected to be that forthcoming so soon. He'd only been there a couple hours and here he was, already pouring his guts out to a complete stranger.
"Why don't we talk about something else?" Nick suggested, noticing how quickly that story was ended. "Can you explain here, where you wrote 'yes' to vehicle accident? You state you 'ran over a kid with an ambulance and in retaliation the EMT was later shot in the head and died because they were after me.' What's that mean?"
John rubbed his face. "Man, filling out that thing was hard enough. Do we have to bring all these things up in one sitting?" John smiled.
"You checked yourself in, John. How long you stay is your choice. You can talk about these things whenever you want to."
John thought for a moment. He really did want to get better and return to his normal life soon. "Okay, several years ago, I was on a ride-along with the paramedics. We kinda got involved in this tenant/landlord war downtown. There was a riot and we loaded the landlord, who had been injured. Lars couldn't make it back into the rig because people were attacking the rig, trying to get at the landlord. I had to drive us outta there, which I don't think I have to add is totally against policy. Anyway, as I tried to make our way out, I drove over this kid that had been pushed down. I didn't see him. See, Zadro couldn't drive because he had been hit by a flying bottle and had blood running down his face. Honestly, I just wanted to get the hell out of there, I didn't care how. I announced that I was driving and begged them to move... but they didn't." John stopped, thinking about the details of this event for the first time in years. He wiped his face and looked away.
"Later that day, Lars was shot when they went back into the neighborhood. He was driving the rig and got shot." John's voice cracked. "They were mad at me. They shot him but they meant to shoot me," he said quietly.
Nick nodded. "What happened?" He needed John to verbalize it.
John looked up at him, tears being held back.
"They wouldn't let me scrub in. I had been a surgical intern. I could've helped them but they wouldn't let me," he said sadly. "Lars died because I ran over a seventeen year old kid trying to save a slumlord," he shrugged.
"You sound bitter," Nick commented.
"It shouldn't have happened. If I hadn't been driving, it wouldn't have happened," John insisted.
"What do you think would have happened if you hadn't driven?" Nick asked.
John though long and hard for a while and finally said, "I guess we would have all been dead," he admitted.
"John, do you hold yourself responsible for your roommate's suicide?" Nick asked, keeping the same calm demeanor he'd been showing since John arrived.
John looked quickly at him. "What?" He asked, thinking. "I guess I did for a while. Not directly. I blame Dr. Benton more than myself."
"Really? Why?"
"He pushed him too hard. Dennis couldn't handle the pressure. Benton figured that because they were both 'blacks working in a white' hospital, Benton used to say, that Dennis had to work twice as hard as I did. Benton expected more from him." John shrugged. "When Dennis was in trouble, I saw it. I chose to ignore it. See, one of the last times I saw him, Benton chewed him out for not getting some lab results soon enough. Benton was trying to impress the new Pediatric Surgeon and he had assigned Dennis to be his scut puppy all day. Dennis and I were in the cafeteria having lunch when Benton came in and tore into him. When I was questioned about it later, I told them that Dennis was overreacting, that what Benton did was not uncalled for. See, just a short time before, Benton caught me with his boss so I was afraid he'd use that against me," John explained.
"You were with his boss?" Nick asked.
"Dr. Abby Keaton. She was Benton's supervisor. I was sleeping with her while Benton was supervising both Dennis and me. We were his surgical Interns.
Nick coughed. "Excuse me?" He asked, being caught off guard.
John smiled, "I was sleeping with Abby while I was an Intern. She was a Pediatric Surgeon that Benton was trying to impress. He wanted to be a Pediatric Surgeon and she wouldn't support him. She didn't think he belonged in Pedes. I couldn't let anyone know I was sleeping with her. I was so wrapped up in Abby that I didn't want Dennis to bring me down and I saved myself. Benton could have had me out of there for being with Abby. He could have had her out of there as well." He fidgeted with the edge of the pillow. "She moved to Pakistan," John added sounding hurt.
"So this is the same Abby that you're worried about knowing that you're here?" Nick asked completely confused as he looked over his notes.
"Noooo," John sighed slipping deeper into the beanbag and covering his eyes with his arm.
Nick looked over the paperwork. "So, John. It looks like you've seen your share of deaths of those close to you. How do you feel about death?" Nick asked, looking at John's face.
John sat emotionless for several seconds, and then he shook his head. "Well, I don't know. I see it every day. I mean, you get a different outlook on death when you hold someone's heart in your hands." John looked at his hands. "It happens." He shrugged, mesmerized by his own fingers. "Sometimes it happens easily for the patient but death always leaves the victims families to have to deal with living."
Nick just watched him for a while.
"Were you and your brother close?" He asked.
John chuckled. Nick had a way of changing the subjects often. "Yes. The whole family was before he got sick. After that, well, I think everyone was too busy blaming the other and we've never gotten over it. My parents are divorcing. My dad told me at Christmas time," he shrugged.
"What is your favorite holiday, John?" Nick asked. So far, he could tell John had bad experiences in his mind with Christmas and Valentine's Day.
John shrugged. "Don't know. I guess I don't have one. I'm not really into holidays because I usually have work."
"How about your birthday? Must be worth celebrating a bit, huh?" Nick asked.
John shook his head. "Look, I know you're trying to be nice and get inside my head but I told you, I don't do holidays, especially not my birthday. I grew up in a house where every holiday was this lavish affair, big parties, hundreds of guests and every bit of it a lie so I don't do holidays," he said clearly.
Nick noted the underlying anger he heard in John's voice as well as his body language. "No problem, John. It's just, in most families, at least birthdays are sacred."
John stood abruptly. "Well, I haven't known what it's like to celebrate a birthday since my brother died nearly twenty years ago so I'd appreciate you dropping the whole holiday subject, okay?" John kept looking at the door, looking like he wanted to escape. Nick watched him for a few minutes.
"You don't have to stay," he finally informed John.
John rushed to the door but he stopped, hand on the handle. "Nick, I'm sorry. Its just things have been too close to the surface for way too long. Sometimes the smallest things set me off." John couldn't look at Nick; instead he kept his back to him.
John jumped nearly a foot when he felt Nick's hand on his shoulder. "Don't!" John hissed, quickly regretting his actions.
Nick instantly pulled back. "It's okay, I won't touch you," Nick reassured. John took a step out the door and then he turned back to Nick.
"Can you tell me where I can smoke?" John tried a half grin.
Nick nodded. "That I can do, John."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was nearly midnight the first night of John's stay at Rock Creek Center. John found himself wide-awake staring at the ceiling. He could not stop thinking about all that he had talked about in only one day. He also thought about Abby and how he longed to be with her. He didn't hold much hope that she would ever want him back but it didn't really matter anymore.
Knowing that it would be impossible to go back to sleep he pulled himself up and stood, turning towards the other bed in his room, he was glad that it was un-occupied. He wasn't sure how he felt about the possibility of having a roommate.
He slowly walked to the window. Staring out into the darkness he could see the vast grounds that surrounded the country club looking estate. It almost felt like home. From his room he could see the front entrance with its large iron gates and a small guardhouse. The front parking lot was a couple acres away and completely lit up with streetlights.
The day had been rather emotionally exhausting with all the forms to fill out, getting settled in his room, another interview with Dr. Sajak and his session with Nick. As did Nick, Dr. Sajak wanted to go over a few of the particulars that he had put in his self-evaluation but in a different way than Nick had.
More specifically, Dr. Sajak began to focus on getting him to talk a little about his most recent feelings and of what he felt may have been the cause of his latest episode.
He had explained to her that he had always experienced insomnia and would frequently have nightmares but nothing had ever been as bad until after the stabbing. He had talked to her for what seemed like hours about how he had felt trapped sitting at home and had desperately wanted to go back to work.
He had been afraid that the longer he stayed away the harder it would be to return. He had always been taught that when you fell off the horse you had to pick yourself back up and get back on. It had always made sense as a child but he found that even after returning to work he just couldn't seem to move on.
The nightmares became so intense that he would wake up and actually feel the pain of the knife being driven into to him again and again. He explained that he had started overmedicating because he had tried to go back to work too soon after his injuries and he wasn't completely healed. Working had only aggravated his injuries to the point that some days he could hardly get out of bed.
Dr. Sajak seemed to know that none of this had anything to do with his most recent problems.
John finally told her about working with Veronica and that under hypnosis he had remembered all the vivid details of being forced to have sex with Nicole. He explained how she had never actually physically used force but she played on his emotions and physical need to be loved.
~~~~~~
John pulled on a pair of sweat pants and his bathrobe. He decided that he needed a smoke and the rules stated that there was no smoking allowed inside the building. Wandering down the long hallways toward the back door he was approached by one of the night attendants.
"Hi, my names Matt, you must be the new guy, John, right?" He asked in a rather youthful voice. The man had a fair complexion with sandy-blonde curly hair down to his shoulders. If it weren't for the nametag clipped to his shirt, and the clipboard he carried, John would have thought he was just another patient.
"Yeah, John Ca… " John cleared his throat, "Williams. So are we allowed out past midnight, cause I really need a smoke," he chuckled shyly.
"I'm not supposed to but I'm a smoker myself so I can't say no to a friendly face," Matt winked at John and punched the code to open the back door.
"I don't want to get you into any trouble," John smiled.
"Really, it's no problem, the rules around here aren't written in stone. A lot depends on the person." Matt explained. "It's not like we can really make a person sleep if they can't or if they're afraid to." Matt led John to a large patio area with padded chase lounges.
"Why have the rules if they're not going to be enforced?" John asked as he sat down and lit up a cigarette. The lounges where quite comfortable and he felt relaxed as he talked to Matt.
"A lot of people come here and they don't know how to function within a scheduled environment, they can't even keep a job because they can't keep any kind of a normal schedule. You know like gettin' up and going to work on time every day, stuff like that. Part of the program is to help people that have problems with that." Matt sat back and jotted down a few notes as he kept a constant eye on John.
"Yeah well, I wouldn't know what a 'normal' schedule was like. In college I spent long hours studying both Corporate Law and Medicine. By the time I got into med-school I decided to drop the 'Law' crap because I just couldn't do it any more."
"So you're a doctor?" Matt asked.
"Yeah, Trauma Physician, it's pretty demanding but I love it." John smiled as he tossed his cigarette butt into an old painted milk can that Matt had indicated was for butts.
"Ready to go back inside, doc?" Matt asked as he stood; his actions encouraged John to follow.
"Yeah," I suppose so." John answered.
Once back in his room John found that he could not sleep. He had begun reading a very interesting article in one of his medical journals that he had brought with him, when there was a slight knock on the door.
"Come in," John called out to whoever it was.
The door opened slowly and Matt peered inside, he was about to tell John that he was supposed to have the lights out but didn't have the heart. Seeing John lying on the bed with several magazines spread out around him he entered the room and pulled up a chair.
"What are you reading?" He asked as he picked up one of the journals and inspected it.
"Oh just some article on open-heart surgery." John laid the magazine aside.
"I though you said you were a Trauma Physician, why all the surgical mags," Matt asked curiously. "Thinking of switching specialties?"
John laughed, "Been there done that!" He exclaimed, seeing the confused look on Matt's face he thought he should explain. "I started out as a surgical student and did a year as a surgical Intern before I decided that I really was more cut out for Trauma. Surgery still fascinates the hell outta me and in the ER I still get a chance occasionally to use my skills. Besides the reading usually makes me sleepy. I guess I'm still a bit too wound up tonight," John explained.
"It's almost 4 am you really should try and get some sleep before it's time to get up," Matt advised as he picked up a few of the magazines and set them on the chair before leaving the room.
To be continued...
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