Before Mitch could take his seat, a strobe light began to flash and a familiar siren wailed. No doubt a fight had broken out somewhere in the complex. Guards, including the one keeping watch over his patient, were quickly on the move. Mitch covered his ears to block out the piercing sound, noting that Eve kept her hands rooted on her lap. The sudden noise and flashing lights did not unnerve her, perhaps because she’d grown accustomed to it.
“Fight in the cafeteria,” Mitch heard a guard yell as he went sprinting down the hall, followed closely by half a dozen personnel surging in that direction.
“Another day in paradise,” said Eve with a dull smile. “You’re late, Doctor.” Her tone was mildly chiding.
Mitch closed the door behind him, blocking out the noise well enough. Medium-security protocols meant his patient wasn’t shackled or handcuffed, and she was permitted to be alone with him without any accompaniment. This was good for therapy but potentially bad for Mitch, should Eve make false claims about him. There were security cameras in the visiting rooms, but not in here. Since therapy was about building trust, Mitch had no issues giving his patient the benefit of the doubt, and he’d hope for the best.
“Sorry for the delay,” Mitch said. “I’m still not good at finding my way around here.”
“You seem smart to me. You’ll catch on soon enough.” There was a mischievous look about her as she leaned over the table, getting closer to him, her eyes narrowed a bit in an assessing way. “But if I were you,” she added, talking now in a conspiratorial whisper, “I’d go and get a better job somewhere else.”
Mitch’s return volley was a smile that didn’t convey any disagreement.
“According to the notes Dr. Palumbo left, you don’t talk much during these sessions.” He allowed his grin to widen.
“I talked enough for him to decide I was a whacko psychopath, so let’s just say I’ve learned my lesson. It’s best to keep tight-lipped here.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, and Mitch noticed that Eve sat with her hands interlocked on her lap. For all her posturing, she was still quite defensive. Mitch made a mental note to pay close attention to her nonverbal cues.
“Let’s wait until the minute hand hits twelve and then I’ll start.”
“Start … not talking?” Mitch sought clarification.
The minute hand rounded twelve, and she nodded her answer.
“I’m not of the same mind as Dr. Palumbo. I’m here to help, not to judge. But I’m not going to be of much assistance if you don’t talk to me,” said Mitch.
She said nothing. It was time to go hunting.
“At least tell me if you’re Eve,” Mitch said. “Can you do that? We spoke in the ER. You were friendlier then. Why the cold shoulder?”
Nothing.
Mitch cleared his throat uncomfortably. Connecting with Eve was challenging enough, but reaching the others seemed as insurmountable as scaling Everest in a blizzard.
For a time, he studied the girl, noting how her eyes stayed glued to that clock, and thought more about what she was doing. She was making a statement, that much was obvious. He might be the doctor, but she was the one in control.
Fighting for control was something Mitch understood and could relate to on a personal level. He controlled his sadness enough to get up and go to work each day, then come home and help with dinner and cleanup every night, wishing all the while for the darkness to somehow magically disappear. Much like Penny had done with her alters, he had also created different personas.
The lack of security cameras in the room actually gave Mitch an idea: Eve wouldn’t talk to him unless she trusted him. She was the “host” personality, the one whose job it was to let others in or out. That decision applied not only to her alters, but also to her doctor. So how to build trust? Mitch mulled it over in his head. Perhaps he’d have to give to get. And what could he give her that would make her trust him? A possible answer came to him.
“I know you hate these sessions,” Mitch said. “But you at least gave Dr. Palumbo a fair shot before you went silent on him. Why not extend the same privilege to me?”
Nothing. Not a flicker of her eyes in his general direction.
“I am, you may be surprised to know … a bit like you.”
She didn’t look his way, but Mitch sensed she was listening now.
“I’ll tell you what.” Mitch uncrossed his legs, his body forward on the table. A tiny pulse of energy beat rhythmically at his temples. “Let’s make a deal.”