Young Writers Society

“Hello Ryan, how’re you?”

It wasn’t even eleven in the morning and Ryan had a headache. He mentally prepared himself for the long speal, consisted of ramblings and stuttering. The blonde nurse, Elly Washington, had been sneaking up on Ryan since he began working at the psych ward and even then, she annoyed him. It was also painfully obvious that Elly had a crush on him that even the patients, after a certain amount of time, realized this.

“Fine, Elly. Thanks for asking.” Ryan preceded to walk a little faster to outpace Elly but it was useless. She seemed to pause for a moment before regaining composure, matching Ryan’s pace.

“How was the meeting with Tad? You don’t have to tell me.” Elly added a laugh at the end. Ryan internally groaned.

“It was fine. How’re your rounds going?”

Elly giggled. “Good, I suppose. I mean, not good. I don’t know. I think they’ll good.” She stopped talking, pressing her lips together. Ryan almost-hint ‘almost’-rolled his eyes. Instead he veered left towards the elevators, heading to leave the psych ward. And Elly still followed, like a lost puppy. Her blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail. A white cap placed neatly on her hair, the flaps tucked behind her ears. She wore a faint red lipstick, elegantly placed on her lips. Ryan didn’t know why he noticed these things or anything for that matter. How her nails were painted pink and her thumbnail was chipped. The small freckle on her right hand.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” Ryan asked suddenly. Elly blinked a couple of times.

“Uh, no? I don’t think so. Wait, I think I have to be somewhere at two. I’ll have to check my schedule. Hey, where’re you going? Ryan!”

-0-

It was five in the afternoon and Ryan was rushing to the psych ward.

He was about to take a nap, lazily counting the ceiling lines when his phone rang. Elly had called, wailing. Tad, from the few words Ryan could understand, was screaming about his sister and parents. When someone would try to comfort him, Tad would scream in their direction. What chance would Ryan have? Tad seemed uncontrollable and Ryan supposed since he had been seeing Tad recently could try to bring him down. He didn’t know much about the boy, only his love to draw and his sudden switches of emotion. Ryan couldn’t form the right words to ask how he was or what he was feeling that exact moment, even if he was a doctor. The human mind, he remembers someone telling him, is a complex puzzle riddled with traps and unsure answers. We haven’t figured out why something happens. Or why we feel things. In fact, we hardly have a clue why we think. It’s natural.

The sights and smells of the drive to the psych ward seemed to be like an abstract painting to Ryan. Cluttered. Unrecognizable. Hard to place. When he reached the psych ward, a dizzying sensation traveled to his head. Breath seemed to pause in his throat. He blinked, glupping. Anxiety formed a bubble over his head. He sighed, stopping in front of the elevator doors. There was a impending feeling of what to do. What kind of thing would happen if he didn’t make it in time. Ryan, as his years working here, didn’t deal with this type of situation. The upper doctors would come to the rescue, bribing the mentally insane with kind words and harsh smiles. The wrong move, everything tumbles. Light jokes. The impending fear was covered with light blankets.

When Ryan finally made it down to the third floor, Elly raced up. Her blonde hair was now falling out from under her white cap. Brown eyes pleading.

“Thank god.”

Ryan followed Elly as she explained what had happened.

“So, Robin was passing through when she heard the banging and wailing. And when she peeked through the window, Tad was curled up in a ball. Tad saw her looking and scrambled up, screaming cuss words. His fingernails were bloodied. Matthew tried to calm him down but was scared due to Tad’s compulsive behavior. That’s just what Robin told me, so I don’t know the whole story.”

As they made it to the door, Ryan could hear the faint whining. Ripping open the door, Tad looked up, his brown eyes wildly looking around.

“Tad, it’s okay.”

“No! It’s not! They’re gone! And it’s my fault!” He cried out. Ryan mentioned Elly to leave as he quietly stepped in and closed the door.

“Who’s gone?”

Tad sniffled, uncurling. “M-my parents. My sister, Wendy. Everyone! It’s my fault they’re dead! My fault!”

“No, it’s no-”

Tad stood up abruptly, grabbing Ryan by the collar. “Yes, it is. That bastard. He-he came into my house. Robbed. Stabbed. Killed. My only family! You don’t understand! You never will!”

Ryan gulped. He could smell the sweat, the distance smell of oatmeal, and tears. The bloodied fingernails stained his white collar. Dirt lined Tad’s eyes. Tears made paths on his cheeks.

“This is why I’m insane! Because I-I,” Tad sobbed, falling forward into Ryan’s chest. The natural thing to do was wrap arms around the sobbing person and comfort them. But in this situation, this wasn’t the case. Ryan sighed, awkwardly hovering his arms. Tad continued to cry, his fingers still curled around the thin fabric of Ryan’s collar. The cries seemed to come in short heaps, rolling over like heavy waves.

“Tad, look,” Ryan began. “I know it’s hard. There are going to be days where you have no idea what to do. You’ve been in this mindset for so many years. I know. I’m here to help you. Try to cover those feelings. It’s going to be hard, I know, yes, but together we can figure out. I’m your doctor and as your doctor, I’ll do whatever I can to help.” He pried Tad off and sighed. “So, let’s try one step at a time to do so. Starting now.”

Tad nodded sadly, rubbing his nose. He then looked up, slightly smiling.

“Thank you.”

Ryan nodded and turned to leave.

“Hey, Ryan, could I talk to you? I think it might calm me down.”

“Sure.” He then sat down on a stool as Tad sat cross legged on his bed.

“So, Tad, why are you here?”

“Because I saw my parents and sister killed in front of me, traumatizing me to the point of insanity,” Tad coolily said.

“Why were you parents and sister killed?”

“My house was robbed. The robber shot my family while I watched from the stairwell. I, of course, felt anger so in return, I went to the kitchen and stabbed the robber eight times in the chest. My next door neighbor found me when they were returning a kitchen dish my mom had given them. I was soaked in blood, still holding the knife in my hand.

“They then called the police. I screamed since, you know, I needed to be with my family. A sense of panic had rolled over me. And that’s why I’m here. Blaming myself for what happened because I knew if I had stopped it because beforehand my parents were fighting about bills and stuff. My sister, only 12, tried to get in. Wendy. She was something else. Strong willed. The opposite of me. Wendy cared more about people than she did about herself. I loved that about her.

“And even before that, I had asked my mom about something and the last words I remember her saying. Smiling, raising her hand against my face. ‘Someday all the love you’ve given away will find its way back to you and it will finally stay’.” Tad paused, his voice cracking. Ryan watched intently, somewhere along the way, placing his chin in the palm of his hand.

“And please, don’t say sorry for your loss. I’ve heard that too many times and it is all fake. Even though the people who speak it, they don’t actually know what to do so they say ‘I’m sorry’. Almost like they’re babying you. Forgiving. Who knows it anymore?”

Tad stopped, looking down at his lap. “So yeah, that’s my life in a nutshell. Messed up like me.”

Ryan cleared his throat, leaning back. “What do you feel when you kill someone? What do you see?”

Tad blinked. “I felt a rush. Like, doing something bad. The kind you get when you go on a rollercoaster. Afterwards, it is just bliss. Then it slowly decreases. Regret. Opening up a wound. I killed an innocent person, runs through your head, you know.

“I remember watching the life struggle out of their eyes. Seep through your fingertips like sand. Their blood stings your skin. There is a form of power in your system.”

Ryan nods slowly. “Basically, you’re saying, as you killed the robber, that power went to your head. When you did so, a sense of relief had washed over, right?”

Tad nodded as Ryan continued. “I’ve only known you for a few sessions and I can already tell you, we’re making progress. Well, you are. I’m merely a doctor who is here to help make progress by asking questions and such. But anyway, like I said, we’re going to try together to help you get back to your original state. It may take a while but that’s a risk I’m willing to take because I see potential in you, Tad.”

“Can I ask you something, Manhattan?”

“Sure.”

“Have you killed anyone?”

Ryan blinked. “What’s with the sudden question?”

Tad shrugged. “It seemed fitting for the mood.”

“Once but they had killed themselves.”

“What happened?”

“This is about you, Tad. Not me.”

Tad sat forward on the bed, glaring with his brown eyes. “Tell me.”

“W-well. I was with this woman. She was kind. We dated for four weeks. A-and I thought she was the one. But something happened. I guess we got into a fight over something stupid then I snapped. The only thing I can remember is throwing vases and screaming so loud, the neighbors had to call the cops.” He paused for a moment. He could feel Tad’s eyes staring, pressuring him to continue. The hole was already dug. The only person who knew this much info was a close friend, Arthur, who was a therapist and had helped Ryan through most of his troubles. He was there when this happened with open arms and promising hopes that everything was going to be okay. But it wasn’t because nothing really isn’t going to be okay. We, as people, have this perception that if something goes wrong, we should just assume for the best. He had known this; mainly because Arthur had shown such a fakeness towards him in such a situation that Ryan played along, hoping for a better outcome.

“Continue on,” Tad said, breaking Ryan from his train of thought.

“Right, uh. After a week or two after the fight, I came home and saw her with another man. In our bed. I walked out, headed to a bar, got drunk, and slept with someone else. I don’t remember, exactly. A week later, she calls me again, pleading for forgiveness but I reject. The heartbreak someone gets from that is forever.

“Anyway, when I rejected, I hadn’t heard from her since then. It wasn’t until last March, I believe, that she h-had. I’m sorry I can’t do this.”

Tad licked his lips, a hunger in his eyes. “What happened to the girl, Ryan?” he asked, leaning forward.

Ryan took a deep breath, his fingers pressing deep into his pants. “She had killed herself. Gun to the head. And to this very day, I blame myself for it. Just like you do with your problem.”