Whispers In The Dark
--Part One--
The room felt stuffy and humid. Sweat glistens my temples leaving a sheen of moisture that shines in the cone of light being emitted from a small window half a foot above my head. I am sitting in a metal chair facing my therapist, whose doe-like eyes carefully and thoughtfully study my face, body language, and overall demeanor.
The silence is deafening and awkward, however I don't dare break it. I don't even see the point of this mental evaluation. I didn't do anything wrong or abnormal. I just expressed my desire to see into my fellow classmate, Jefferson's, chest cavity to see if he indeed has a heart. My Human physiology Professor didn't like that and now I am here in this putrid-smelling, suffocating room being stared at by Dr. Hermen Shultz, himself.
I have better things to be doing right now instead of this mental evaluation. I inwardly sigh and fiddle my thumbs waiting for the hour to be up.
To my dismay, Dr. Shultz breaks the silence with, "So, why did you say that you wanted to open Jerfferson's chest to see his heart for?"
I grumble and stay silent. I am not letting this shrink get inside my head.
"Martin Seers, you have to participate in this conversation or I will have no choice but to suggest that you get dismissed from this Medical School immediately."
My eyes connect with Dr. Shultz's eyes as I grumble, "What?! You can't do that! I just started the school term! This isn't fair!"
"Martin, life isn't fair, that said yes, I can do that if you don't put some effort into helping me understand why you said what you said."
I frown, roll my eyes, sigh, and grumble "Fine, whatever"
"Thank you, Martin, now please tell me why you said what you said about Jefferson."
"I said I wanted to open up Jefferson's chest cavity to see if has a heart because I believe him to be heartless."
Dr. Shultz scribbles on his notebook in his lap and muses, "I see, now why do you think Jefferson is heartless?"
"Oh, you know, his complete lack of self-awareness or consideration for others, and his inability to look me in the eyes when talking to me."
"Martin, you do understand that some people have a hard time with eye contact and have difficulties connecting with people right?"
I stare at Dr. Shultz taken aback by his question. I don't know how to answer him because I've never allowed my mind to ponder this. As my silence lingers Dr. Shultz scribbles some more notes in his notebook, before continuing his musings, "Martin, you did hear what I said before right?"
I squirm in my chair, wring my hands together, and manage to utter, "Yes, I heard you."
"Oh, good, now please answer the question. Do you understand that some people have a hard time with eye contact and have difficulties connecting with people?"
I shrug and utter, "Never thought about it before. I mean, I do now that I've processed what you said, but like I said, I've never thought about it before." I flash a sheepish smile.
Dr. Shultz sighs, scribbles some notes down, and says, "Martin, your lack of consideration for others' feelings, anxieties, and general social difficulties is a bit concerning, however, we can work on that in our next session."
I lead forward, and nearly growl, "What do mean next session? I thought I had to do one session."
Dr. Shultz smiles and halfheartedly utters, "Well, as I see it you need to deal with whatever it is that created the man sitting in front of me before you do something that you'll truly regret."
"Like what?"
"Like say, killing someone."
I roll my eyes, softly chuckle, and say, 'Pff, me? Kill someone? Please, I'm not that..uh...I would never...um...I wouldn't kill someone."
The room grows still and quiet after the words tumbled out of my mouth. I can feel the therapist's eyes boring into my soul as the intense scritch-scratching of his pen carves letters, words, and phrases onto the rough fibers of the notebook paper. My heart pulsates in my ears as sweat trickles down my temples.
Dr. Shultz sighs and starts to say something in response, only for the timer to go off, signaling the sweet relief of being free from this stuffy, suffocating room. I hurriedly collect my bookbag, which has been nestled between my feet for the past hour, sling it over my shoulder, and leave the therapist's office with no intention of returning.
Three Hours Later:
I am sitting at my desk in lecture hall B23 listening to Professor Wilkes of Human Biology drone one about the endocrine system and its many important functions. I tuned out at the half-hour mark of class and have been doodling my classmate Jefferson dismembered in my personal sketchbook. Each part of his body is painstakingly drawn in jars surrounding his body. I drew myself as the surgeon performing this macabre surgery. I am so enthralled with my drawing that I scarcely heard Professor Wilkes say "Class dismissed".
I'm one of the last students to leave the lecture hall. Before I could leave the lecture hall, Professor Wilkes stopped me by saying, "Hey, Martin, hold on a minute, I need to talk to you"
I grumble, go over to Professor Wilkes, and mutter, "What is it this time, Professor Wilkes?"
"You're missing two assignments that are massive chunks of your grade." his beady eyes study my face.
I furrow my eyes and utter, "What two assignments?"
"The 20-page essay on the human circulatory system and the 50-slide presentation on the human nervous system along with a scale model." he stares me down like a lion stares down a zebra.
"I thought those assignments were extra credit so I decided not to do them because I didn't have the time to complete them because of the other twenty-plus assignments I have to complete for my other eight classes," I explained slightly whining as I did so.
Professor Wilkes just stares unyielding at me and flatly utters, " I said at the beginning of the term I do NOT give extra credit work and that EVERY assignment was mandatory and non-negotiable. Meaning if you don't turn in those two assignments by the end of the week you will get zeroes on them and fail my class. Understood?"
A wave of burning anger bubbles its way to the surface and threatens to boil over as I stand there staring unyielding daggers at my professor praying for the man's slow painful death under my freshly sharpened scalpel. The unbridled heat of my anger causes my cheeks to flush a light crimson and my eyes fog over with the color red. The next thing I know everything goes dark and all the heat dissipates in the endless dark void of my mind.
Two Hours Later:
I awake in the university's recovery ward. There is an ice pack resting on my forehead. The cold seeps into my clammy flesh and creates a dull ache in my temples. I slowly lift my hand and gently remove the ice pack allowing the stale, hot air to warm up my forehead. I lay there and slowly looked around me. I notice some police officers talking to a nursing student covered in blood and sobbing.
I strain my ears to hear what the nurse and police officers are discussing only for me to realize that they're on the other side of the glass. I grumble to myself and focus on my surroundings. The walls are an off-white almost cream color. The room is barren of flowers and get well soon cards. The ceiling light flickers on and off for a few seconds at a time in a repeated loop of electricity flowing through fried wires and broken connectors. The flickering light causes my head to feel weighed down and groggy.
I close my eyes, gently shake my head, and try my hardest to shake the grogginess from my weighed-down brain. Whatever is happening in my head it is not easing up instead it's getting steadily worse. The Grogginess is taking over and my eyelids are refusing to open. What is going on? Why is the nurse, who is talking to the police, sobbing and covered in blood? What the hell happened to me? Where is Professor Wilkes?
As these questions circulate in my brain, the darkness steadily engulfs my conscious mind. I have no choice but to obey the suffocating darkness and see where it leads. Will I ever wake up?









