Ill Will
Interlude: Ill Will
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INTERLUDE: ILL WILL
brother.” Doctor Augustine sits at his desk, hands folded over his stomach as
he watches Patrick calmly move from sitting in the chair, chewing on his nails
before getting up to pace back and forth in the doctor’s office. “Your brother
wasn’t asleep for those thirty-six hours.”
this, but I did not want to tell William that. I didn’t think it was the right
thing to do.” His steps grew frantic the more he thought about his brother. “He
didn’t even know what happened.”
blame this on the sedatives, are you?” Patrick could see why William wanted to
punch Doctor Augustine – already the side of his face had turned a healthy
shade of purple; however, he seemed to be trying to cover it up with some
cosmetics.
could say that it was.” He tries to sound as sure as he did in a courtroom, but
as it was directly relating to his brother he is unable to keep his emotion out
of his words.
psychotic break.”
glare is better than William’s. It is enough for Doctor Augustine to snap his
lips together rather than protest. “There has to be some other explanation.”
Doctor Augustine’s voice softens to a sympathetic tone. He feels as though he
should try to have Patrick fully understand what happened to his brother. If
Patrick allowed himself to be in the delusion that his brother is fine when he
is not, it would only lead to further damage to William’s psyche.
“I
know this is hard for you to hear, but when he awoke from the sedative, he was
not himself. He started screaming about a ‘yellow room’ and people that were in
the asylum.” He paused for a moment, shaking his head, shoulders trembling at
the memory of that moment before continuing. “He started saying that we were
talking to him. William didn’t even seem comprehend where he was, who was
talking to him, anything. It unfortunately went on like that for hours until he
was too hoarse to scream any more.”
“You
ALLOWED him to do that?!”
“I
didn’t allow anything. I can’t just
keep drugging someone with sedatives, sir.” His pudgy hand rises to adjust his
glasses. “I already gave him a sedative that would have him out for a few
hours. If I gave him another one so soon, I hope you understand my meaning.”
“Yes…”
Patrick appears tired, weight on his shoulders that eventually settles him into
one of the chairs in front of Doctor Augustine’s desk. “What do you think is
wrong with him?”
“Delusions,
hallucinations, disorganized behavior…” He
pauses only to sigh. “I’d say that he’s suffering from some form of paranoid
schizophrenia.”
“No
one in our family has schizophrenia.” Patrick’s voice is small, quiet, unsure,
but not on his information rather on the diagnostic itself.
“Genetics
is one cause of schizophrenia, but there are others. It could either be purely
his neurological development, malfunctioning of dopamine in the brain, so on
and so forth.” Doctor Augustine shoulders slump for a moment, shaking his head
as he does so. “The only thing we can be glad for is that these symptoms showed
while he was here than if he was to be released.”
“He’s
not a danger to anyone.” His hands are cradling his head, elbows on his knees.
“I
beg to differ.”
“He
said you said something to him.” Patrick doesn’t move from his position, his
body leans even more forward so that his head is applying more weight onto his
hands.
“I
didn’t say anything that would result in him physically attacking me, if
“No.
No, of course not.” He shakes his head, but barely
able to move it from its cradle in his hands. “I just don’t know what to do. I
think I made it worst.”
“I
really don’t think you did. There’s nothing you could have done to make this
episode any worst or better.” Doctor Augustine’s shoulders slump at that
thought, shaking his head from side to side.
He had been shaking his head so much at the thought of William, his
diagnostic, everything about the young man that his neck was starting to get a
cramp in it.
“I…
I suppose not.” Patrick’s lips presses together for a moment as he lifts his
head up to look at the other man. “Will…Will he eventually be able to leave
here?”
“I
suppose, with proper medication, therapy, but right now I don’t think so. He
might fight us for awhile with this, I’m afraid.”
He
nods in understanding, lips together in a thin line. Patrick looks to his
right, towards the curtained windows. His lips make a soft smacking sound as he
parts them. “Will he be able to have that visit with Simon and me?”
“I
believe it would be in his best interests not to have that meeting. You saw how
he reacted today. I can’t risk him attacking one of my patients just because –”
“Please.”
Patrick did not wish to be snowballed with some facts that may or may not be
true regarding his brother. It was just the beginning of his schizophrenia, so
it is going to get a lot worst than the episode today. “It might be the last
time those two see each other.”
“So
you understand your brother’s fondness of Simon?” His voice is hardly
accusatory, but there is a hint underneath it that is enough to bristle
something inside of Patrick.
“I
suppose. I don’t understand it. But I don’t have the facts to properly judge
Simon. Or my brother’s actions unless I see them for myself.” He finds himself
easily falling back into his lawyer-mode. This is something that William would
want, to see his friend before he would be sent to the higher levels for
further treatment. “Please, Doctor.”
“Fine,
I’ll allow it.” Doctor Augustine throws his hands in the air for a second
before they fall back down on the arms of his chair. “However, it will be in
the visitor room with an orderly at the door. I do not want William to have
another psychotic episode and attack Simon or you.”
“Thank
you for both your concern and approval.”
Though,
Patrick is sure it is more because that the good doctor didn’t want to suffer
from liability. There wasn’t enough time to make the papers so that they could
have their meeting. By tomorrow, William would be sent to the higher floors. He
closes his eyes at the thought, knowing that it was good that his little
brother was getting help, but still so unsure if it was the “right” thing to
do. He shakes his head; there is nothing he could do about that now. No matter
his guilt, it didn’t change the current situation either way.
“Yes,
well, it will be a short meeting at best.” The psychiatrist rubs his forehead,
spreading his fat fingers across the flesh as he tries to massage some tension
out of his mind. “We’ll have to calm William down. I don’t know how long that
could take, but I already said that the meeting will happen as a last request.
This is all against my better
judgment, mind.”
still feels hope that William eventually will get better – proper medication
and therapy will help him absolutely. It is the only glimmer of hope that he
feels that he can hold on to lest he admits to losing the last of his family.