Discharged
"Vivian. I'm sure of it. Vivian Ward. I even know my freakin' address. What? You think I pulled a valid name and address outta my ass?" Vivian's arms flailed and gestured in her usual exaggerated flamboyance in her exasperation.
She was nice enough, the psychiatrist perched at the end of her bed. Even sympathetic, but in that infuriatingly condescending way, like she was dealing with a complete nutjob. "We've had our admin department check your details... 'Vivian'. There was never anyone by that name at that address. Are you sure that's your name and address?"
"YES." Vivian rubbed at her temples irritated. "Kit de Luca, she lives there with me. I ain't makin' this shit up ya know. Ya know, if I was gonna feed you some bullshit, I'd have at least said I lived in some expensive uptown condo wouldncha think? Not some hole of a room that barely passes health and safety regs."
Despite her continued protestations, the response from her psychiatrist was unwavering, it was as if she'd never existed. She knew that was her name though, two hundred percent she knew. Vivian Ward. Why did she not believe her, why was there no trace of her?
"Fine, so maybe I lost a few months of my memory. Hell, I musta been on somethin' pretty hardcore to go marry some John just 'cause the freakin' condom split. But, ya know!" Vivian was sick to death of this infuriating game now as she threw her palms sky high in supplication, "Looks like I did. More fool me."
"Pretty narrow escape I guess." Except she knew that wasn't entirely true, the 'John' part maybe, who knew? Vivian's memory may have regressed to a few years ago, but that one recent moment, that moment where her newborn daughter was taken from her, lingered like the echoes of a nightmare you can't shake til you turn on the light.
"Look." Vivian's voice softened, pleaded almost. "I just want out now, I can't stay here forever. Except for the little difference of opinion of who I am, I reckon I'm all fixed up and ready to go live again. An' if you ain't gonna let me go, then I'll just walk."
A few hours later, Vivian signed the self discharge papers that had been prepared for her, papers that unbeknownst to her would be destroyed as soon as they reached the hands of one Charles Bowman, Chief Operations Director of the hospital. The same Charles Bowman who, along with her Psychiatrist, had received a tidy sum from the Frost Corporation for their silence.
She was nice enough, the psychiatrist perched at the end of her bed. Even sympathetic, but in that infuriatingly condescending way, like she was dealing with a complete nutjob. "We've had our admin department check your details... 'Vivian'. There was never anyone by that name at that address. Are you sure that's your name and address?"
"YES." Vivian rubbed at her temples irritated. "Kit de Luca, she lives there with me. I ain't makin' this shit up ya know. Ya know, if I was gonna feed you some bullshit, I'd have at least said I lived in some expensive uptown condo wouldncha think? Not some hole of a room that barely passes health and safety regs."
Despite her continued protestations, the response from her psychiatrist was unwavering, it was as if she'd never existed. She knew that was her name though, two hundred percent she knew. Vivian Ward. Why did she not believe her, why was there no trace of her?
"Fine, so maybe I lost a few months of my memory. Hell, I musta been on somethin' pretty hardcore to go marry some John just 'cause the freakin' condom split. But, ya know!" Vivian was sick to death of this infuriating game now as she threw her palms sky high in supplication, "Looks like I did. More fool me."
"Pretty narrow escape I guess." Except she knew that wasn't entirely true, the 'John' part maybe, who knew? Vivian's memory may have regressed to a few years ago, but that one recent moment, that moment where her newborn daughter was taken from her, lingered like the echoes of a nightmare you can't shake til you turn on the light.
"Look." Vivian's voice softened, pleaded almost. "I just want out now, I can't stay here forever. Except for the little difference of opinion of who I am, I reckon I'm all fixed up and ready to go live again. An' if you ain't gonna let me go, then I'll just walk."
A few hours later, Vivian signed the self discharge papers that had been prepared for her, papers that unbeknownst to her would be destroyed as soon as they reached the hands of one Charles Bowman, Chief Operations Director of the hospital. The same Charles Bowman who, along with her Psychiatrist, had received a tidy sum from the Frost Corporation for their silence.