False Diagnosis


“I’m not crazy.”

            The good doctor peered over her Gucci frames, pursing her Botox lips. We’ve been at this game for over an hour. She asked the questions and like a good little patient I answered them.

“No one said you were,” she retorted tapping her fountain pen on the legal pad in her lap.

I chuckled getting up from the crazy couch. “Then why am I here?” I gestured to the room and went to stare out the window. “Someone must think I have a few screws loose, otherwise I wouldn’t have been court ordered to come here.”

“There are people who are concerned about you, Karine. That’s why you’re here, not because someone thinks you’re crazy,” the doc said evenly. She’s been using that same damn tone this whole time. It was making my skin crawl.

The clouds moved lazily across the clear November sky. It was a beautiful day and I should have been at home raking leaves with my fiancé instead of here with the Looney Doc.

I shook my head looking back to her. “And what do you think?” my tone was sour. I couldn’t help it, but wouldn’t you be upset too if you were the victim of an assault that no one believed happened?

She lightly shrugged and casually sipped on her third class of Scotch. “I think some traumatic events in your life are resurfacing after being repressed for so many years. Your mind believes these events from the past are happening in the present.”

“Of course,” I scoffed. “Otherwise you’d lose part of your paycheck if there wasn’t something wrong with me, right?”

Her overly plucked brows frowned, she looked offended. “I enjoy my job and helping people work through past traumas.” For the first time that even tone of hers faltered. “People like you, Karine.”

My brow arched as I looked to her black Prada pumps. Seems like you enjoys your checks to me.

“All right Doc, let’s run with your theory,” I sighed, crossing my arms leaning against the window frame. “If my past traumas are coming up again, why would my mind conjure up an assault that never happened?”

“It could be an affect from your LSD addiction-”

“From when I was sixteen?” I cut in, “Yeah right, try again sweetheart.”

“It is possible,” she snapped. “There could be damage to your nervous system which could trigger hallucinations.”

“Uh-huh…” I rolled my eyes. “What else ya got?”

“You were assaulted when you were nineteen,” she pointed out.

“Mugged,” I corrected, “and that’s not even close to what happened.” I shivered remembering that night.

“How about you tell me again exactly what happened.”

“Fine,” I sucked in a breath to tell the story for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I got off work at eleven Wednesday evening and was going to my car parked about a block over from the shop. When I got there a man came up behind me, put his hand over my mouth, pinning me against his chest. He whispered Hello doll, let’s have some fun. Then,” now here’s where it gets crazy, “he got in my head and it was like a horror movie started. Horrible, mutilated images of women flashed across my eyes and I could hear them screaming.” My stomach turned recalling the hell I endured. “There must have been hundreds of images, but we were only standing there for maybe two minutes before he disappeared.”

“What did this man look like?” she asked doubtfully.

“I don’t know. He came out of nowhere, I never saw his face.” I took a seat on the crazy couch, running a shaking hand through my hair. All I wanted was to be at home with my fiancé and for someone, anyone to believe me. I glanced at the clock; our time had to be over soon.

“And you say all this happened in your head? It wasn’t some sort of electronic device?” she questioned skeptically.

“It wasn’t any goddamn device!” I growled shaking my head. “The guy somehow put all those images in my mind. I don’t know how but he did.”

The doc studied me with a slow nod. Her face was void of emotion as she went to her desk, picking up a piece of paper. “It says in the police report there weren’t any witnesses. When the residents on the street were asked they said they’ve never seen any man wondering around at night.”

“It was almost midnight on a suburban street. Of course no one saw him,” I argued. She was really starting to piss me off with her pointless questions.

“Of course,” she nodded. “Have you ever been on any antipsychotic drugs, Karine?”

“What? No! There’s never been a need for them,” I said offended then stood. “This is a complete waste of time.”

“Karine,” the doc stepped in my path to the door, “I’m trying to help you, just sit and relax. We can take a break and talk about something else if you’d like.”

“I’m done talking. All you’re doing is twisting my words and bringing up my past to make it seem like there’s something wrong.” I stepped around her, purposely knocking into her shoulder.

“You have Paranoid Schizophrenia which is why you’re being defensive,” she said grabbing my arm with surprising strength. She pulled back, pushing me towards the couch.

I stumbled, falling back onto it. This just pissed me off even more. “You crazy bitch!” I snapped trying to get up, but she slammed her hands down on my shoulders. “This is going to end in a lawsuit.”

“It’s for your own good, Karine.” She said holding me, “We’ll take care of you.”

I clawed at her hands then kicked a foot into her stomach. She lost her grip, falling to the floor. “I’ve never been Schizophrenic, Doc.” I spat at her then bolted for the door, ripping it open before she could call for help.

But it was already there; two large orderlies dressed in white were waiting in the hallway.

“Going somewhere, Karine?” the one on the right asked before they grabbed me and drug me back into the room.

I struggled against them. “Let go! I haven’t done anything!”

“Calm down, honey.” The orderly cooed, “We just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“It’s Paranoid Schizophrenia,” the doc said getting to her feet, “delusions of persecution, hallucinations of grandiose, and impaired ability to reason. She should be put on Clozapine right away before it progresses.”

“We’ll let the doctor know,” the orderly nodded.

“No!” I screamed fighting harder. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” I glared at the doc. “You bitch, you planned this!”

“Easy now, honey. Everything will be fine.” The orderly pulled a syringe from his pocket and took off the cap. The needle pierced my arm, flooding my body with a sedative; darkness slowly taking over as I was dragged out of the office.

Some odd hours later my eyes slowly opened to discover I was strapped to a bed in a bare white walled room. Cuffs were locked around my wrists and ankles, biting into my skin.

“Oh god,” I whispered. “Why is this happening to me?” I pulled against the restraints and started to yell obscenities, cursing the looney doc and orderlies.

After almost a half hour, the door to my cell opened in.

“Did you finally tire yourself, Karine?” a man in a lab coat chuckled, coming to the side of the bed. It was dim in the room obscuring his face, but his voice was familiar.

“Why am I here?” I demanded. “I’m not crazy, let me go!”

He chuckled again kneeling by my head. “You’re here because that’s what I want.” His voice was venomous, filled with evil and that’s when I recognized it.

“No,” I whispered as horror took over and my voice rose to a scream. “No, no!” It was him, the man who put those images and screams in my head.

A smile was on his lips as he put a hand to my face and said, “Let’s have some fun.”

The End.

Published by Kaela P. Breezee

I am a fictions writer by heart. Originally from Minnesota, I am currently traveling with my family, taking inspiration from the places we travel while building up my author platform. I write young adult, fiction, and short stories. My first novel is still a work in progress.

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