Brigit's Flame Entry- Week 3 January; All Stars Contest
Title: Poison Pen
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: R
Warnings: language
Word Count: 2361
Prompt: “put down your poison”
A/N: Written for week #3 of Brigits_flame All Star's contest. Also, poetic license was taken with some spelling. I know that women are “blonde” and men are “blond”, but let's just forget all about that “e” for the length of this story, shall we? Thanks, guys! ;)
“We've been working together for quite some time now-”
Natalie jerked her head up. “It hasn't been that long! Why, do you think I'm a slow learner or something?”
Dr. Peters took off her reading glasses and fixed Natalie with an omniscient stare. “I do think you would get more out of therapy if you would fully participate in your own treatment.”
“I do! I've told you all about myself, every little detail I can think of. How can you say that I'm not participating?” Natalie heard own voice booming off the walls of the psychiatrist's room. Even though she knew Dr. Peters was a good doctor, she couldn't help but get defensive when they talked. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“I'm not suggesting that you are withholding information from me, Natalie. I will agree that you've been most forthcoming about various aspects of your life. Please don't feel as though I'm attacking you.” Dr. Peter's held out her hands in a placating gesture. “Instead, try and view this simply as an exercise to help you understand yourself. Sometimes we have feelings that lie far beneath the surface, unbeknownst to our conscious mind. Writing is a good way for you to explore these things.”
Natalie frowned. “Do you think I have … feelings that I'm not aware of?”
“We all do. It's the way the human psyche works. It is only when the subconscious interferes with our waking life that we need to fully explore what is distressing you. That's why I suggested the diary.”
“Can't you just tell me what's wrong with me?” Natalie picked at a cuticle, unwilling to meet Dr. Peters' gaze. “You must have some idea of what you think is the matter.”
Dr. Peters sighed. “I don't think anything is 'wrong' with you. I do know that we all must come to the realization of what we are internalizing on our own. If I told you - even if I knew - you would simply deny it. It is a process; that is how you must look at this. There is no right or wrong. Get to know yourself. Keep a journal and see what comes of it. Words have weight; you might well be surprised by the power you hold over yourself. It's time to take it back, don't you think?”
Natalie liked the sound of that. She nodded. “It's time to take back the power. You're right, doctor. I'll do it.”
*
Natalie ran her hands over the leather-bound notebook she'd bought on her lunch break. She'd wandered around the bookstore, looking at all of the journals until she'd found just the right one. She'd been surprised how many blank books there had been. Why had she never noticed them before? Were so many people writing to themselves, trying to peer into their own shadowed hearts? Natalie would never have guessed that anyone else might feel that they were a walking mannequin, the skin merely a shelter for the mystery within. Who was she, in the bones and in the blood? Maybe tonight she would find out.
The crack of a new book was always a pleasure, and this one was no different. Natalie savored the feel of the unbroken spine, the slight spring of the gilt-edged pages as they fanned open the way an unused book was wont to do. She turned to the first page, almost sorry to mar the perfection of the unblemished paper with her words.
I don't know what to write. It seems silly to talk about my day; I know what I did. Will I really want to look back and read a rote chronicling of chores? Not even I am interested in what I do. I'm boring. I'm boring. I'm boring.
Natalie sighed. She couldn't think of what to say, but she'd promised Dr. Peters she'd give it a try every night for a week. If she filled up a page, no one could say she hadn't done her best. Then she could call this a dumb idea and never do it again.
Fine, I guess I'll just talk about myself, then. It seems stupid, because no one else cares. If anyone at work knew I was spending my nights writing in a diary, for pity's sake … they are so cruel. God, I hate them. Becky, especially, with her designer handbags and those ridiculously high-heeled shoes. She reminds me of the head cheerleader in high-school. It's no surprise that I would go straight from the frying pan there and into the fire! But I'd have thought that people would grow the fuck up! Becky is the worst of the lot. It's none of her business what I do in my time off, who I spend nights with. Or not. If I have a boyfriend. What does she care? She'd sleep with anything. I wish something terrible would happen to her. I wish that hair she's so proud of would fall right out of her head. She's always twirling it around and flipping it this way and that. Does she think I'm jealous, that anyone is jealous? Of her? That's a laugh. What a bitch! She wouldn't be so damn smug if she was bald, would she? I can see her now, and I hate her. I hate her so much! I HATE HER
Natalie blinked. She stared at the page in front of her. She'd been writing a long time. She flipped back and was astonished to see several pages of cramped handwriting. She read back over it and was horrified to see the bile she'd poured out, ending with a rant against her coworker, Becky Stevenson. She'd been stabbing with her pen so hard that she'd nearly carved into the next page. Natalie closed the journal with shaking hands.
Maybe this was what the doctor had meant. She certainly didn't like Becky, but she never would've said that she hated her. Natalie didn't know whether to be troubled or relieved. Perhaps it was good to get the feelings out. She turned out the lights and closed her eyes, but it was a long time before she could get the savage marks out of her mind for long enough to fall asleep.
*
“Oh my God! Did you hear what happened?”
Natalie hit the “send” button on her report and turned towards Jessica, the office gossip. “No. What's going on?”
“Did you see Becky today?”
Natalie felt a vague stirring in her gut. “What? Why?”
Jessica dropped her tone. “It turns out that she's had cancer all this time, but she hasn't wanted anyone's sympathy. The chemo is finally taking effect, so she shaved it all off last night. She's totally bald, and she isn't even hiding it. Isn't that so brave? Some of us are going to get our heads shaved in solidarity. We're going after work. Do you want to come and show how much you support Becky?”
“No!” Natalie gasped. “She's … lost her hair? Just like that?”
“Um, yeah. That's what happens when you battle a serious disease that could, like, kill you. You know, there are more important things than hair, Natalie.” Jessica stalked away. “Freak.”
The room dimmed, and Natalie thought she might faint. Could it be coincidence that she'd wished that same fate on Becky and the very next morning it had come to pass? Of course, she hadn't wanted her to have something as serious as cancer, but Becky had it coming. Did she dare try it again? There were so many people out there who were deserving of a good payback. When the shock of the idea had settled in and she recovered her bearings to see the glare that Jessica gave her, Natalie had her answer. They'd find out who the freak was tomorrow.
*
...so snobby. I can't even describe it here. If you could hear her voice, you'd know how much she needs to learn a lesson. If she had something terrible happen, something truly awful, she'd understand that it isn't nice to call people names.
Natalie chewed on the end of her pen, trying to think of something suitably horrific that couldn't possibly be misconstrued in the light of day as happenstance.
I wish that Jessica Morgan would go blind.
There. Natalie snapped the book shut. This would be one way to find out for certain what was happening.
*
Natalie heard the murmurs long before she saw anything. No doubt Jessica wouldn't be in today. She'd had her ears attuned to the sounds of rumor since she set foot in the door this morning. It sounded like the ripples of excitement were just starting to swirl throughout the cubicles. Natalie had been practicing her concerned face since last night. “I heard about Jess. Is she okay?” she asked Deb, the lady who sat across the way.
“Okay? Better than ever, I'd say,” Deb said.
“What?” Natalie stood up.
“I never would have guessed that platinum would look so beautiful on someone with that complexion!” Deb said.
Natalie frowned. What was going on here?
Jessica rounded the corner. She had a long blond wig on, and it looked stunning.
“Oh, hi there. I see you like my new hair. After we got shaved, I got the strangest notion to try this on. I know - it really suits me! And here I'd thought mousy brown was my color all this time!” Jessica laughed. “It just goes to show you how being nice has unexpected benefits sometimes. Some people could really learn a lesson from that, you know!” Jessica turned away.
Natalie was seething. She'd written blind, not blond! Was her penmanship that poor? She vowed to come up with something unmistakeable tonight. That bitch couldn't be allowed to get away with this. And now she was blond, to boot! Natalie would really make her pay for that.
It was only on the way home that Natalie realized she had her weekly visit with Dr. Peters. Her revenge would have to wait until she got home. Sighing, Natalie changed course and made for her appointment.
“So, you see, I did exactly what you asked of me. And I really do feel better. Thank you, doctor,” Natalie explained.
Dr. Peters cleared her throat. “I … see. This is an … unexpected development.”
“I know, right? Next time I'll make sure to write clearly,” Natalie said.
“Okay, wait a minute. Assuming that your actions really did influence the lives of your coworkers, I am-”
“You don't believe me?” Natalie asked. “I have the book right here! You can see for yourself that it's true!”
Dr. Peters held up her hand. “Can I ask you why you took a journal that was supposed to be used to explore your feelings and tried to use it to harm the people around you? Is that not a valid question? Those are serious allegations, Natalie. You must consider that you wished a colleague to lose her sense of sight.”
“But then it worked! Or it would have, if I'd written it legibly. And anyway, you're the one who wanted me to keep a diary in the first place, and now you're not listening to me!”
“Natalie, please. I am listening to you.” Dr. Peters put on her glasses.
“But you don't believe me!” Natalie felt a burst of unfairness explode in her chest. She knew it sounded crazy, but if her own doctor wouldn't listen, what would she do?
“I believe that you believe it most sincerely.” Dr Peters wrote something on her paper. “This has taken an unexpected turn. Natalie, I am concerned for the status of your mental health. Under Section Two of the Mental Health Act, I have the right to have you detained for evaluation. This is not-”
“Detained?” Natalie couldn't believe what she was hearing. “You think I'm crazy? You want to commit me?”
“Please. Be calm. I am asking you to try these neuroleptics first. I think your case can be managed with outpatient care. Let's try this route and see how you feel in a few days. It is my guess that I will be having a conversation with a whole new Natalie.” Dr. Peters ripped off the prescription and handed it to Natalie.
“You want me to take drugs? You think I'm psycho?” Natalie stared at the sheet of paper. The lines were a blur; who knew what her diary would make of this wish?
“Of course, we can try it without the antipsychotics, and you can check yourself into the hospital for inpatient treatment. It's your choice.” Dr. Peters gazed at Natalie.
“Yes. I'd like to feel better. I'll take these right away.” Natalie swallowed.
“Good.” Dr. Peters rattled off an impressive list of side effects. “I'd like you to call me or stay in e-mail contact while you are adjusting to this drug. And for the first two weeks, I think I should schedule you for daily appointments. We don't have to do the full session each time, but I'd like to touch base with you as you begin the pharmaceuticals.”
Natalie nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Don't forget to take your first dose tonight before you go to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“See you then, doctor.” Natalie waited until she was out of the office before she crumpled up the prescription and threw it in the garbage.
She had the length of the walk home to come up with something truly evil to write about Dr. Peters. Natalie's hand gripped the binding of the book in her pocket, and she let her thumb stroke the leather. She'd take her time and write as clearly as she could, even if it took all night to get it just right. This time, there would be no misunderstandings. Dr. Peters wouldn't know what hit her.
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: R
Warnings: language
Word Count: 2361
Prompt: “put down your poison”
A/N: Written for week #3 of Brigits_flame All Star's contest. Also, poetic license was taken with some spelling. I know that women are “blonde” and men are “blond”, but let's just forget all about that “e” for the length of this story, shall we? Thanks, guys! ;)
“We've been working together for quite some time now-”
Natalie jerked her head up. “It hasn't been that long! Why, do you think I'm a slow learner or something?”
Dr. Peters took off her reading glasses and fixed Natalie with an omniscient stare. “I do think you would get more out of therapy if you would fully participate in your own treatment.”
“I do! I've told you all about myself, every little detail I can think of. How can you say that I'm not participating?” Natalie heard own voice booming off the walls of the psychiatrist's room. Even though she knew Dr. Peters was a good doctor, she couldn't help but get defensive when they talked. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“I'm not suggesting that you are withholding information from me, Natalie. I will agree that you've been most forthcoming about various aspects of your life. Please don't feel as though I'm attacking you.” Dr. Peter's held out her hands in a placating gesture. “Instead, try and view this simply as an exercise to help you understand yourself. Sometimes we have feelings that lie far beneath the surface, unbeknownst to our conscious mind. Writing is a good way for you to explore these things.”
Natalie frowned. “Do you think I have … feelings that I'm not aware of?”
“We all do. It's the way the human psyche works. It is only when the subconscious interferes with our waking life that we need to fully explore what is distressing you. That's why I suggested the diary.”
“Can't you just tell me what's wrong with me?” Natalie picked at a cuticle, unwilling to meet Dr. Peters' gaze. “You must have some idea of what you think is the matter.”
Dr. Peters sighed. “I don't think anything is 'wrong' with you. I do know that we all must come to the realization of what we are internalizing on our own. If I told you - even if I knew - you would simply deny it. It is a process; that is how you must look at this. There is no right or wrong. Get to know yourself. Keep a journal and see what comes of it. Words have weight; you might well be surprised by the power you hold over yourself. It's time to take it back, don't you think?”
Natalie liked the sound of that. She nodded. “It's time to take back the power. You're right, doctor. I'll do it.”
*
Natalie ran her hands over the leather-bound notebook she'd bought on her lunch break. She'd wandered around the bookstore, looking at all of the journals until she'd found just the right one. She'd been surprised how many blank books there had been. Why had she never noticed them before? Were so many people writing to themselves, trying to peer into their own shadowed hearts? Natalie would never have guessed that anyone else might feel that they were a walking mannequin, the skin merely a shelter for the mystery within. Who was she, in the bones and in the blood? Maybe tonight she would find out.
The crack of a new book was always a pleasure, and this one was no different. Natalie savored the feel of the unbroken spine, the slight spring of the gilt-edged pages as they fanned open the way an unused book was wont to do. She turned to the first page, almost sorry to mar the perfection of the unblemished paper with her words.
I don't know what to write. It seems silly to talk about my day; I know what I did. Will I really want to look back and read a rote chronicling of chores? Not even I am interested in what I do. I'm boring. I'm boring. I'm boring.
Natalie sighed. She couldn't think of what to say, but she'd promised Dr. Peters she'd give it a try every night for a week. If she filled up a page, no one could say she hadn't done her best. Then she could call this a dumb idea and never do it again.
Fine, I guess I'll just talk about myself, then. It seems stupid, because no one else cares. If anyone at work knew I was spending my nights writing in a diary, for pity's sake … they are so cruel. God, I hate them. Becky, especially, with her designer handbags and those ridiculously high-heeled shoes. She reminds me of the head cheerleader in high-school. It's no surprise that I would go straight from the frying pan there and into the fire! But I'd have thought that people would grow the fuck up! Becky is the worst of the lot. It's none of her business what I do in my time off, who I spend nights with. Or not. If I have a boyfriend. What does she care? She'd sleep with anything. I wish something terrible would happen to her. I wish that hair she's so proud of would fall right out of her head. She's always twirling it around and flipping it this way and that. Does she think I'm jealous, that anyone is jealous? Of her? That's a laugh. What a bitch! She wouldn't be so damn smug if she was bald, would she? I can see her now, and I hate her. I hate her so much! I HATE HER
Natalie blinked. She stared at the page in front of her. She'd been writing a long time. She flipped back and was astonished to see several pages of cramped handwriting. She read back over it and was horrified to see the bile she'd poured out, ending with a rant against her coworker, Becky Stevenson. She'd been stabbing with her pen so hard that she'd nearly carved into the next page. Natalie closed the journal with shaking hands.
Maybe this was what the doctor had meant. She certainly didn't like Becky, but she never would've said that she hated her. Natalie didn't know whether to be troubled or relieved. Perhaps it was good to get the feelings out. She turned out the lights and closed her eyes, but it was a long time before she could get the savage marks out of her mind for long enough to fall asleep.
*
“Oh my God! Did you hear what happened?”
Natalie hit the “send” button on her report and turned towards Jessica, the office gossip. “No. What's going on?”
“Did you see Becky today?”
Natalie felt a vague stirring in her gut. “What? Why?”
Jessica dropped her tone. “It turns out that she's had cancer all this time, but she hasn't wanted anyone's sympathy. The chemo is finally taking effect, so she shaved it all off last night. She's totally bald, and she isn't even hiding it. Isn't that so brave? Some of us are going to get our heads shaved in solidarity. We're going after work. Do you want to come and show how much you support Becky?”
“No!” Natalie gasped. “She's … lost her hair? Just like that?”
“Um, yeah. That's what happens when you battle a serious disease that could, like, kill you. You know, there are more important things than hair, Natalie.” Jessica stalked away. “Freak.”
The room dimmed, and Natalie thought she might faint. Could it be coincidence that she'd wished that same fate on Becky and the very next morning it had come to pass? Of course, she hadn't wanted her to have something as serious as cancer, but Becky had it coming. Did she dare try it again? There were so many people out there who were deserving of a good payback. When the shock of the idea had settled in and she recovered her bearings to see the glare that Jessica gave her, Natalie had her answer. They'd find out who the freak was tomorrow.
*
...so snobby. I can't even describe it here. If you could hear her voice, you'd know how much she needs to learn a lesson. If she had something terrible happen, something truly awful, she'd understand that it isn't nice to call people names.
Natalie chewed on the end of her pen, trying to think of something suitably horrific that couldn't possibly be misconstrued in the light of day as happenstance.
I wish that Jessica Morgan would go blind.
There. Natalie snapped the book shut. This would be one way to find out for certain what was happening.
*
Natalie heard the murmurs long before she saw anything. No doubt Jessica wouldn't be in today. She'd had her ears attuned to the sounds of rumor since she set foot in the door this morning. It sounded like the ripples of excitement were just starting to swirl throughout the cubicles. Natalie had been practicing her concerned face since last night. “I heard about Jess. Is she okay?” she asked Deb, the lady who sat across the way.
“Okay? Better than ever, I'd say,” Deb said.
“What?” Natalie stood up.
“I never would have guessed that platinum would look so beautiful on someone with that complexion!” Deb said.
Natalie frowned. What was going on here?
Jessica rounded the corner. She had a long blond wig on, and it looked stunning.
“Oh, hi there. I see you like my new hair. After we got shaved, I got the strangest notion to try this on. I know - it really suits me! And here I'd thought mousy brown was my color all this time!” Jessica laughed. “It just goes to show you how being nice has unexpected benefits sometimes. Some people could really learn a lesson from that, you know!” Jessica turned away.
Natalie was seething. She'd written blind, not blond! Was her penmanship that poor? She vowed to come up with something unmistakeable tonight. That bitch couldn't be allowed to get away with this. And now she was blond, to boot! Natalie would really make her pay for that.
It was only on the way home that Natalie realized she had her weekly visit with Dr. Peters. Her revenge would have to wait until she got home. Sighing, Natalie changed course and made for her appointment.
“So, you see, I did exactly what you asked of me. And I really do feel better. Thank you, doctor,” Natalie explained.
Dr. Peters cleared her throat. “I … see. This is an … unexpected development.”
“I know, right? Next time I'll make sure to write clearly,” Natalie said.
“Okay, wait a minute. Assuming that your actions really did influence the lives of your coworkers, I am-”
“You don't believe me?” Natalie asked. “I have the book right here! You can see for yourself that it's true!”
Dr. Peters held up her hand. “Can I ask you why you took a journal that was supposed to be used to explore your feelings and tried to use it to harm the people around you? Is that not a valid question? Those are serious allegations, Natalie. You must consider that you wished a colleague to lose her sense of sight.”
“But then it worked! Or it would have, if I'd written it legibly. And anyway, you're the one who wanted me to keep a diary in the first place, and now you're not listening to me!”
“Natalie, please. I am listening to you.” Dr. Peters put on her glasses.
“But you don't believe me!” Natalie felt a burst of unfairness explode in her chest. She knew it sounded crazy, but if her own doctor wouldn't listen, what would she do?
“I believe that you believe it most sincerely.” Dr Peters wrote something on her paper. “This has taken an unexpected turn. Natalie, I am concerned for the status of your mental health. Under Section Two of the Mental Health Act, I have the right to have you detained for evaluation. This is not-”
“Detained?” Natalie couldn't believe what she was hearing. “You think I'm crazy? You want to commit me?”
“Please. Be calm. I am asking you to try these neuroleptics first. I think your case can be managed with outpatient care. Let's try this route and see how you feel in a few days. It is my guess that I will be having a conversation with a whole new Natalie.” Dr. Peters ripped off the prescription and handed it to Natalie.
“You want me to take drugs? You think I'm psycho?” Natalie stared at the sheet of paper. The lines were a blur; who knew what her diary would make of this wish?
“Of course, we can try it without the antipsychotics, and you can check yourself into the hospital for inpatient treatment. It's your choice.” Dr. Peters gazed at Natalie.
“Yes. I'd like to feel better. I'll take these right away.” Natalie swallowed.
“Good.” Dr. Peters rattled off an impressive list of side effects. “I'd like you to call me or stay in e-mail contact while you are adjusting to this drug. And for the first two weeks, I think I should schedule you for daily appointments. We don't have to do the full session each time, but I'd like to touch base with you as you begin the pharmaceuticals.”
Natalie nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Don't forget to take your first dose tonight before you go to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“See you then, doctor.” Natalie waited until she was out of the office before she crumpled up the prescription and threw it in the garbage.
She had the length of the walk home to come up with something truly evil to write about Dr. Peters. Natalie's hand gripped the binding of the book in her pocket, and she let her thumb stroke the leather. She'd take her time and write as clearly as she could, even if it took all night to get it just right. This time, there would be no misunderstandings. Dr. Peters wouldn't know what hit her.