The Silent Patient

An attempt to bypass my monstrous ego and access the truth about myself—if that’s possible.

Alicia didn’t swallow a bottle of pills in a suicidal gesture. She was injected with a massive dose of morphine. This wasn’t an overdose.

It was attempted murder.

Yuri frowned. “But—I saw Professor Diomedes earlier. He was here.”

“He was?”

“Yes, I saw him early this morning. He was at the other end of the corridor, and he seemed in a rush—at least, I think it was him.”

Soon I was close enough. I raised the rock, preparing to smash it down on him with all my strength.

“Yes, she believes it. Alicia is under attack—but from her own psyche, not the outside world.”

“I feel that you need to be taken care of. I find myself wanting to take care of you, Alicia.”

For a second I thought Alicia was going to cry. I fought a sudden desire to hold her, take her in my arms, kiss her, reassure her, promise her she was safe. I restrained myself. I stubbed out my cigarette on the redbrick wall.

We talked about Alicia’s childhood—and mine. I told her about my father, and growing up in that house;

The truth is I understand you better than you think. Without wishing to disclose too much, you and I experienced similar kinds of childhoods, with similar kinds of fathers.

I was certain there would be a knee-jerk physical reaction, an acknowledgment of some kind. I waited, but none came.