Chapter Eighteen
Declan
Choosing to stay in the office downstairs, Dr. Emmanuel Campos is hesitant to say a word.
To be fair, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say either.
After what I can only speculate was a panic attack, I'm not even sure if we'll be able to continue with the session, or if we should.
The doctor looks at his watch, and then out at the back patio.
His eyes search for something. The file in his hand is creased down the middle from holding it too tight.
"Declan." The doctor's voice holds a resounding fear.
"I'm going to do my best to get through these next few moments, because I need to make sure we understand each other.
You witnessed my reaction to what you said before.
While I'm aware of your inability to understand why I reacted that way, Declan, I need to show you something before we can continue. "
"Okay, Doc," I say cluelessly. "I don't know what this has to do with anything, but if this will allow us to move on, then so be it.
" I lean forward in my seat as Dr. Campos reaches into his file.
With his pale hands continuing to shake, he pulls out a small photo and reaches forward, handing it over face down.
I take the picture in my hand and flip it over.
I hesitate at first, bringing the photo closer to my face.
“Is that?” I ask, but it simply can't be. "What is this? Is this some twisted joke?” My vision blurs a moment as my heart beats away at an epic pace in my chest.
"I need to know if this is the woman you spoke about,” he declares plainly.
“How do you know her?" I probe. Nothing good can come from this.
"Just answer the question, Declan." After requesting my patience, it's the doctor who's running out of it.
"Is that Daphne Brooks?" His voice gets louder.
"Is that the woman you were in love with?
You have to tell me, Declan." The doctor is persistent, fixated even.
His wide eyes show hints of rage, and frothing white spit sticks in the corners of his mouth.
"Yes!" I shout, tired of the nonsense. "It's her, at least I think so. She looks a little older than when I last saw her, but yes, it's her. Now, goddammit, why do you have her picture?"
Dr. Campos lets out a groan sounding like a mix of both relief and anguish. He falls back into his chair, removes his glasses, and rubs his forehead with his free hand. We stare at each other without speaking, blinking or even breathing, and I get a sudden urge to leave.
“I have some more questions for you, Declan,” the doctor speaks first.
"No," I assert. "I won't answer any more questions until you tell me what the hell is going on.
" I need, or at least feel like I'm owed, some answers.
The doctor is digging into a part of my past that has nothing to do with him, and I want to know why we can't move on.
Why did he lose his shit? And why in the love of fuck does he have a picture of Daphne?
"This is important, Declan," the doctor pleads. "Please, you must."
"Tell me what is happening, Dr. C," I demand. "You better start explaining, or I’m out of here." He can tell by the look on my face I’m not bluffing.
"Okay, Declan," he replies softly, fighting himself as the words come out.
"We'll play it your way." He pauses to look at his notes.
"Ten years ago, I was working at the state hospital, but you already know that.
" I give an acknowledging nod. "While I was on staff there, I often did community service work at the local psychiatric clinic.
It was my way of giving back to the community.
" Dr. C says with pride and adds, "during my time at the clinic I met a young lady who was very disturbed. "
I rock forward, then back, and repeat. The anticipation is almost too much.
"After two hours of speaking with the young woman," the doctor continues, "I determined that she did, in fact, need professional help. My help. As she appeared to suffer from very graphic delusions. That girl, Declan, was the woman you see in this very photograph. Daphne Brooks."
"What?" I ask with a stunned look. "You’re telling me you met Daphne—my Daphne—ten years ago, and she was crazy."
"Yes and no, Declan," says the doctor. "Ten years ago, yes, we met. Crazy was to be determined." He slowly exhales, pushes his glasses back up, and sits forward. His face gets eerily close to mine before he sneers. "So, I need you to give me some answers."
"Your story doesn't make sense doctor," I say. "Our last date was six years ago, not ten, and there was nothing wrong with her. Not to mention the fact that she was clearly younger than the woman in that photo." I find the lack of sound in the room unsettling.
Dr. C grabs another file sitting on the couch to his left and opens it to the last page. He turns toward me and reads the last sentence.
Patient reported missing to the authorities.
"Doctor Campos," I say. "This is a hoax, right? I mean, she couldn't have disappeared ten years ago. I've seen her since then. Your information has to be wrong." Now I'm the one pleading.
Dr. C walks to the door, pulls it open, and speaks down to someone at the bottom of the stairs, "We're nearly ready here.
" I see him nod to whomever, Miss Paxon most likely, then close the door again. Turning back around he steps behind where I’m sitting on the couch and drops this second folder in my lap.
“Take a look, Declan,” he says sternly by my head. “Really look.”
I flip the cover open to see the missing patient notice again, and begin flipping through the pages inside, but I’m no doctor. I don’t know what any of this shit means. And why the hell is he standing behind me?
“Tell me what you did to her, Declan.”
“You can’t possibly think I—” I try to respond, but I get interrupted by a sharp pinch in my neck. “Ouch,” I spit out, grabbing a hand at the pain point.
What the fuck was that?
Something hits me with immediate effect. My muscles suddenly feel like cinder blocks. My eyes water, blurring my vision. A fog of fatigue envelopes me. An exhaustion stealing my ability to even yawn.
The doctor walks around the other end of the couch to face me, looking down at my flooding eyes. He slowly crosses his arms across his chest.
"Declan," he says, "I'm not sure how to say this."
Outside of the office, a few rooms away, I hear the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer while I rapidly grow tired and groggy.
“Wha—whaaat?” The words barely fall from my lips.
"I need you to listen to me, Declan," he carries on. "In a moment my colleague is going to join us. You’ve met Miss Paxon. You will be going with her."
I want to object. I want to call out for help. But… I can’t move.
Oh my god. I can’t fucking move!
"I've asked Miss Paxon to take you to another location. Somewhere safe," he explains.
I hope my eyes are adequately displaying my disbelief.
I’m not going anywhere with her. Or at least I don’t want to.
It’s a crazy thing, being unable to move while your mind continues to spin.
It’s telling me to find a way out. It’s telling me to make a run for it.
That I’m stronger than the doctor, which I highly doubt given his size.
That Miss Paxon won’t be able to stop me. But the only way I’m getting out...
My eyes are heavy.
The office door opens and those familiar tall boots clack across the floor in my direction.
“Take him to the facility.” I hear the doctor say in a calm tone. “I’ll meet you there.”
That’s the last thing I remember.