There were few things that River disliked, but being idle was one of those. He wasn't used to free time, even considering the fact that he had been here for several weeks now. So much of his world before this had been filled with unending work where even sleep was a luxury most nights. It gave him too much time to think, too much time to let his thoughts wander, memories he didn't care to visit creeping up on him like specters in the night.
Really. He hated it quite a bit.
Pacing the room had quickly grown boring, and he had just sat back down on the edge of the bed, a hand pushed through his hair, when he heard the footsteps outside of his room. A frown came to his lips, a moment of wariness spiking through him as he rose once again to his feet.
"Someone out there?" he called out, feeling a little foolish for being so skittish. But he hadn't heard that anyone was going to just "drop" by. Unexpected visits gave him reason to be wary.
Pushing open the door, Nurse Ratched gave him a cold smile and raised an eyebrow. "Not a social call, Mr. Wenhamm. A therapy. Surely you were told you were scheduled to begin a therapy today?"
Privately, she thought-- not worried, because those who worried about the structure of the asylums they worked in did not last long in them-- about how things were run. Loath as she was to admit it, the lawyer, Mr. Edgeworth, had struck a point. Things seemed entirely unefficient here, with "accidents" being broadcast as murders and patients allowed to claim they were not, in fact, mad. But no matter. There had been worse asylums, and she had seen them whipped into shape.
Saint Edelweiss would be no different.
Stepping out of the doorway, she tilted her head expectantly. "Follow me."
"Therapy? I just had that not so long ago..." River trailed off with a frown, unable, to his dismay, to pinpoint how long it had been since his initial encounter with the doctors. His head still ached on occasion, a fierce pain that reminded him of what that doctor had done. And ironically enough... there were still headaches to contend with
( ... )
"And now you require it once again. You don't really think your problems can be solved with simply one therapy session, do you?" she asked, pleased he was cooperating. It made things so much easier that way. "You may," Nurse Ratched then answered, her tone firm. Exposure therapy was hardly uncommon, and, if she was pleased with the results of today's treatment, it might become a regular part of Mr. Wenhemm's schedule.
"But first-- tell me something, Mr. Wenhemm," she said, opening the door to the therapy room and waiting for him to enter. It was set neatly, just as she had requested, which pleased her. A simple chair set in the middle of the room for the patient, with a desk and chair for herself. Off to the side was a screen, and the person behind it . . . well, that would come later.
"I hardly think therapy is needed at all," River murmured under his breath as he followed behind her, glancing this way and that as they made their way to the therapy room, his shoulders sinking down in defeat. There was no sense in fighting, he had discovered over the weeks he had been here. But there was also no reason to be perfectly compliant in body and mind.
The door to the therapy room was opened and he stepped in ahead of her, pausing for a moment at the simple setting. No surgery then, and that small reward had him relaxing slightly. "A fear?" River asked, glancing behind him in her direction, a bit surprised at the question. "I... can't say that I have any that I can particularly put my finger on," he continued, sitting down in the chair placed in the middle of the room with the assumption it was for him. "I can't say I'm fond of tight spaces, but other than that..."
Comments 6
Really. He hated it quite a bit.
Pacing the room had quickly grown boring, and he had just sat back down on the edge of the bed, a hand pushed through his hair, when he heard the footsteps outside of his room. A frown came to his lips, a moment of wariness spiking through him as he rose once again to his feet.
"Someone out there?" he called out, feeling a little foolish for being so skittish. But he hadn't heard that anyone was going to just "drop" by. Unexpected visits gave him reason to be wary.
Reply
Privately, she thought-- not worried, because those who worried about the structure of the asylums they worked in did not last long in them-- about how things were run. Loath as she was to admit it, the lawyer, Mr. Edgeworth, had struck a point. Things seemed entirely unefficient here, with "accidents" being broadcast as murders and patients allowed to claim they were not, in fact, mad. But no matter. There had been worse asylums, and she had seen them whipped into shape.
Saint Edelweiss would be no different.
Stepping out of the doorway, she tilted her head expectantly. "Follow me."
Reply
Reply
"But first-- tell me something, Mr. Wenhemm," she said, opening the door to the therapy room and waiting for him to enter. It was set neatly, just as she had requested, which pleased her. A simple chair set in the middle of the room for the patient, with a desk and chair for herself. Off to the side was a screen, and the person behind it . . . well, that would come later.
"Do you have any particular fears?"
Reply
The door to the therapy room was opened and he stepped in ahead of her, pausing for a moment at the simple setting. No surgery then, and that small reward had him relaxing slightly. "A fear?" River asked, glancing behind him in her direction, a bit surprised at the question. "I... can't say that I have any that I can particularly put my finger on," he continued, sitting down in the chair placed in the middle of the room with the assumption it was for him. "I can't say I'm fond of tight spaces, but other than that..."
Reply
Leave a comment