What’d you do to him?

Posted on December 24, 2013. Filed under: dissociative identity disorder, schizophrenia |

Doctor Donald’s black eye shone at me across the Formica.  It fair lit up the room.  His eye.  Not the Formica.  And I felt, in the oppressive gloom of the interview room’s four tight walls, that I’d tumbled into a terse parody of some 1940s’ American detective novel.  Hammett.  Chandler.  Pulp fiction.  But I was no Spade or Marlowe.  Something wasn’t quite right in this crazy place.  That something was probably me.

“Harry’s got it in for you,” Doc leaned forward in his seat, dissipating the healthy space between us.  I stayed where I was.  I would’ve leaned away, but had nowhere to lean.  So I stayed there.  Stuck.  Him gumming up the decorous distance.  Me wondering how close he’d have to come before his other eye went black.  “What’d you do to him?”

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