These Old Haunts

Mae

The young doctor looks at me gravely.

"You know they think you're crazy, right?"

I look at him unflinchingly.

"I know I am."

He tilts his head, looking curiously at me.

"You don't deny it?"

I keep my gaze steady.

"If you saw the things I see, you wouldn't either."

He sits back in his chair.

"What things do you see that are so hard to believe?"

He says this in an almost mocking tone.

He's young, about twenty and four I would guess, with a tailored, put together look about him. He wears a light blue and white suit, with a dark blue tie. His blonde hair is almost too long, and it's slicked back to accentuate its small waves. When he talks, I can see the princely form of his face, his cheekbones not too high, and his jaw not too strong.

Even though he's good looking, that doesn't distract me from the fact that his only goal is to scrutinize me. As a woman, I'm used to it.

There's nothing new about him. No doctor in the whole of England will believe me, and because of that, no doctor can help me. In this era of the "Industrial Revolution," we're supposed to welcome different ideas, and be open to new concepts. I have never found that to be true out here in the real world.

I look down and fold my hands.

"You're not going to believe me, so why should I tell you?"

He lets out a frustrated breath and shakes his head.

"Ms. Alrea, you know as well as I do that your family wants to put you away. Unless you tell me what's happening to you, I don't see any way of preventing that."

I give a little laugh.

"You don't even know me, doctor. Why should you be concerned for my well-being?"

He sits up. The edges of my vision blur. This is how it always starts.

"Isn't that what a doctor supposed to do?"

Vines of poison ivy start to climb up his legs, twisting the fabric of his well ironed pants.

"Isn't a physician's purpose to see to the well-being of his people?"

I can't speak. But he mustn't know that those vines are about to choke him, climbing up his torso. They won't come towards me. At least, that's what my mind tells me. But why should I trust it?  

I look away, eyes cast down.

"Your concern is heartwarming doctor, but not practical."

The vines should be almost at his throat by now. Just a few more seconds . . .

"I suppose it's true that I can't know the feelings of people without them letting me."

I look at the ground, not reacting to the near coming calamity.

There's a pause. Has it happened?

"You seem . . . distracted, Ms. Alrea."

I look at him. The vines are gone.

I let out a deep breath.

"Just tired, Mr. Bleuler."

He smirks.

"What did you see?"

I raise my eyebrow. I'm not going reveal anything. Not yet.

"If you keep on insisting I'm seeing things, Mr. Bleuler, I'm afraid you're the one who's crazy, not me."