The Descent Chapter 7: A Bitter Taste Part 1

Full Novel Synopsis: Sequel to 'The Spiralling', itself a sequel to the Kick-Ass (2010) movie. However, this novel can be read on its own. After Big Daddy died, Mindy was driven mad, subdued by Dave, and locked away in an Institute after killing all who she deemed responsible but Dave. Will she recover? What will happen next to a New York without her nor the Motherfucker? Elements of the Kick-Ass 2 (2013) movie and comic series will be taken in.

The Descent

Chapter 7: A Bitter Taste Part 1

“Hello? Is this Dr Paul?” I said over the phone as I was pacing around the porch at the front. Mindy was still in the living room, as I’ve asked her to wait inside while I made the call.

“Yes. Dave Lizewski? Is something wrong?” The voice on the other line replied. He sounded calm. It was all routine to him. On the other side of the line, I was always on the edge of my seat.

“Yeah, it’s about Mindy.” I said, my voice quivering a bit. I couldn’t help it. No shit, buddy, there’s a million things wrong with Mindy, “She’s been having nightmares. Every day. The pills aren’t working. I think she’s remembering stuff through the nightmares. She mentioned ‘Robin’. But I don’t think she knows what it means.”

“Robin? As in Batman’s Robin? That Robin?” The psychiatrist said before pausing, sighing a bit, “Those pills are the strongest I have in my pharmacy. Let me think. The best I could do is to prescribe even more, so she’ll be on drugs longer. If Robin is all she could remember, then I’d say it’s working very well, very thoroughly. All I need from you now is to keep doing this. I know it’s hard on you, but-”

“I must do what’s best for Mindy. I know, doc.” I agreed, even though I felt split in my opinion. A primal part of me was wishing her back very badly. Yet at the same time, I didn’t want her to become Demoness again. I could become The Hulk over this anytime; it was the ultimate torture, “There’s one other thing. Her hand shakes every time she holds a knife at the dinner table. What’s up with that?”

“Did I mention that I deconstructed and reconstructed her personality, her psyche? That I removed everything that was violent?” The doctor explained. I didn’t like where this was going. I hate opening cans of worms, “I replaced her acceptance of violence with a subconscious inhibition towards violence. She doesn’t know it, but the shakes are a sign of her mind rejecting violence, and implements – weapons that could lead to violence. She won’t be holding a gun for decades to come. Her problem with a dinner table knife is a minor trade off.”

“Wait, are you saying this is permanent?” I was shocked. It was even worse than I expected. Sure, it would be fine if it continues for a few years, but decades? Until the day she kicks the bucket? In a world like this, I could envision the need for her to defend herself when she grows up, and it doesn’t even have to be related to her being Hit-Girl, and by the time she grows up, wouldn’t the memories of her past life as Mindy Macready, Hit-Girl and Demoness fade away enough for her to live a normal life again? For her to do whatever she wants? “You… you mindfucked her!” I didn’t even dare to shout my profanity tagline, in case Mindy could hear me through the door.

“I KNOW it’s a drastic measure. Draconian even.” The doctor’s patience was wearing thin too, I could feel it, but he’d only allow himself half a moment to show it, “But her case was drastic, do you not agree? She took nearly a hundred lives that night, Dave.” I hated it when Dr Paul uses that card. There was no way I could counter that, “Look, there’s no guarantee that it’s permanent. The human mind is an unpredictable thing, the brain an enigmatic organ. It’s just as likely that she would beat the inhibition by the time she’s 20, or 22, when she is mature enough, when she understands the horror and consequences of violence…”

I didn’t reply. How could I? The doctor was right, and he was the one in the thick of it for a whole year with Mindy. He broke his arm, risked his life to cure her, even if his solution wasn’t exactly ideal nor likable. Then there was me, the person who started it all. I stayed silent, and I think he got the picture, “Look, I believe it’s time I pay a visit to Mindy.” It was funny how we were all still referring to Mindy by her old name, when her real identity was all but gone, confined to the recesses of her unconscious, the recycle bin of her mind, and that recycle bin was due anytime to be emptied whenever her mind was ready.

In the end, I told him that he could come 2 hours later, when Mindy and I would be home after shopping at a nearby mall. I opened the front door and stood half-way into the living room, “Hey Mandy, it’s time to go!” Upon hearing me, she leapt excitedly off the couch, running towards me in her cute, sky blue dress and her ballet slipper type shoes. I stared at her as she came towards me. I could still remember her in her Hit-Girl costume. The purple tights, checker patterned skirt, the cape flapping as she ran, the mask. I couldn’t imagine her in a dress and ballet slippers, but then I didn’t have to. She was there dressed as a normal, if very feminine and sweet, girl whether I like it or not.

We took a cab to the mall. I figured she needed the royal treatment. Not to mention, I didn’t want to stress her too much. I would need to soften her, pamper her a bit, as per the doctor’s prescription. That would get her as far away from her past as Hit-Girl as anything could ever.

At the mall, I was constantly worried about what might attract her attention. I had to constantly steer her away from what I thought might be a disaster. I had to hold her close and control her, without her knowing. Past a few restaurants, a sporting shop appeared, with guns and gear that Big Daddy’s Mindy would love to ogle over. I couldn’t stop her. “Dave, what’s that? Can I go see that shop?” It was like a Mindy magnet, and even in her amnesiac state it was still attracting her somehow.

“Urm… no, Mandy. That’s a very bad place.” I was pulling shit out of my ass. I was desperately searching for a shop to attract her attention, “Let’s go to Toys R’ Us instead. I’m sure you’d want toys instead, don’t you?”

“Why is there a bad place in the mall?” She quizzed, as any girl her age would. Admittedly, it was a hard question to answer, considering that the ‘bad place’ wasn’t that bad in the beginning. She was still looking at the sporting shop. I hurried my pace, and she followed suit. From a distance, it was a little hard to make out the L-shape of guns on display, especially those in black and brown, but with Mindy I wasn’t sure. I could only desperately hope that she didn’t pick them out, but her sudden shivering answered my question. I had to tell her one truth or the other.

“Because it’s not a perfect world, Mandy.” It was the best I could do. The sporting shop disappeared out of our sight soon enough, and Mindy stopped shivering. The conversation didn’t continue, but I knew she would understand. It wouldn’t even take a residual memory for her to. Her experience in school sure wasn’t the best.

Even the Toys R’ Us wasn’t safe. I had to make a wide circle around the boy’s section. It was like a lesson in practical philosophy, if such a thing existed, and I’ve learnt plenty: Violence, as it turns out, was deeply ingrained in society. I had taken that for granted. Even the good guys use violence – was it really such a bad thing? While I’m out shopping with Mindy, the only thing I knew was it was bad for her. I had to make a wide circle around the nerf guns, super-soakers and Gundams. I guess I could only be thankful that it was easy with Toys R’ Us. Everything was arranged by gender, age and toy types, so it was easy to put her in the middle of Polly Pockets, Barbie Dolls and teddy bears without ever seeing a John Rambo action figure with his giant machinegun. As much as I would like to see Hit-Girl with a machinegun, I wouldn’t want to see Demoness gunning down hundreds with it.

It wasn’t any easier even in a girl’s clothes store. She was always reaching for something pink or purple, or even green, which could remind her of the military. I had to get creative…

“No, not green. It looks like someone vomited on it.” I said it with my most disagreeing voice possible when she picked that green 3-quarter pants. A look of disgust quickly spread on her face, and she returned the pants back on display. She reached for the purple version, “No, not that. You’ll look like Barney the Dinosaur, or the Blob.”

Mindy was only interested in the pants section for some reason, looking to try out anything from a pair of full-length jeans to cargo pants, but at least her interest in hot pants was feminine enough, “Why do you want a pair of jeans, Mandy? They’d make you look… rough.” Though inside, I was going haywire with her emerging tomboyish tastes.

“But Dave! My wardrobe’s full of dresses!” She complained and was practically begging for her jeans, so I had to compromise a bit. In the end, she won her pair of denim jeans (on the condition that it was light blue and not green or black). It was harder than a game of chess, and I was getting worried, because Mindy was beating me in it even without noticing.

It certainly wasn’t any easier with her tastes in shoes. It was impossible to keep her eyes on the high-heels, pumps and slingbacks. She’d just go back to the boots eventually, even when I got the shop assistant in on the act. Well, at least she bought a pair of slingbacks in addition to a pair of brownish military imitation boots. Dr Paul won’t be impressed. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy, Mandy.”