The Doctor

I’m not entirely sure how I came up with this story. I’ve been sitting on it for a while. I had to do a lot of rearranging to get it to come out the way it did. If I had to guess what this was about, I think the main goal for this one was to write from the perspective of someone who lost control of everything.

I really hope the ending makes sense. If not, please let me know and I’ll explain the inspiration behind that. Maybe the title could be clearer? What would you suggest?

The Doctor

I was held against my will for over a year. I knew only by the temperature of the air that snuck through one of the cracks in my cell. The air was the only thing that reminded me of the world going on as if this evil wasn’t taking place.

I didn’t tell them anything. I had nothing they wanted. They said if I talk I get to walk away. No hints. nothing to get the ball rolling. No explanations. Just talk. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing. They grabbed me. I said, “You said I’d be okay,” and they said, “Yes, that’s what we said if you talked.”

They broke my fucking legs. They hit me with a bat and had me crawl back to the cell along the cold cement floor. The other guy in the room was a doctor. He put my legs back in place. He did everything for me: cleaned me, fed me, defended me. He gave himself up for me. He won’t ever get out.

*

And that’s where we come in. We know talking isn’t easy under pressure. I’ll admit that what they did was uncalled for, but you gave us a place to start. If one of you talks, and the rest find out you’re still alive, unharmed, they’ll talk too. If you get a thousand people who think they know where someone is hiding and they all give you different answers, you can still get a pinpoint location just from the odds of overlapping ideas, similar to how a GPS works.

You mentioned the doctor in your cell. Did he ever talk about having a family? Don’t keep secrets. No, the other’s were lying. They knew what would happen if they lied and they did it anyway. They clearly weren’t afraid of the consequences. We already told you: If you talk, you can go. We have no interest in wasting your time or ours. This is an urgent matter. Yes, but the longer we’re held up, the more impatient we get. You’re not the only one at risk. “He’s not going to cooperate. Take him back to his cell.” No, you didn’t speak; you weren’t going to. We know you’re trying to forget. Too late. We’ll try again another time.

*

He didn’t know what they wanted either. No one knew. Screaming echoed off the walls on a daily basis. He couldn’t sleep unless he heard another man’s screaming because it was the only thing that ensured he’d would get through the night alive. He must have done it out of guilt for hearing himself say that out loud. They found him hanging from a beam above the cell. Or maybe he was guilty of more. At least I can sleep knowing he didn’t give them anything. I think his family would be proud.

They let everyone in the cell out after they cut his body down. I don’t know what they put in us or how you even found me, but I’m glad you did. “We’re glad we found you, too. And now you’re actually free to go.” I didn’t understand. “You thought you we would just let you go without giving us something? You fool. Like we said, if you talk, you leave.” Nothing made sense. They drugged me and let me go. Where am I? What’s that needle? “This will help you forget everything you’ve seen and experienced. You should be able to live out the rest of your life stress free. Thank you for the help.”

 

Submissions

If you’re interested in submitting your own work, please see my guidelines on my website and check out what other people have written in the submitted works tab. I don’t have too many restrictions, so don’t hesitate.

7 Comments Add yours

  1. Hello Nick. Interesting story. May I have the link to your website? I’d be happy to share my work with you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey! Thank you for the kind words. You can just email me at comeandgo.wordpress@gmail.com. I’ll review it and get back to you with any edits/comments I think are necessary.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Great, sounds good.

        Like

  2. ELLE says:

    Hmmm. Lots to work with! I am a bit confused at the dialogue, does each asterisk mean that the speaker is changing, time is changing? I think because the story is so dense with dialogue and this rambling sense of “being in your head”, there should be more breaks in paragraphs to signify it. But I do like the overarching idea! Maybe some formatting tweaks will really bring the idea home. Well done!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for the kind words! You’re right on both accounts with the asterisks. They represent a change in speaker and time. I always go back and forth with how I should represent dialogue. The goal for the middle section was for the reader to lose control along with the character. He doesn’t have a chance to speak; his voice doesn’t matter. I’ll revise at some point with line breaks in the middle section to see if that clears things up.

      Like

      1. ELLE says:

        I was thinking that! About how we were meant to lose control. But crazy state of mind doesn’t always mean crazy delivery too, you know? I think going back and clarifying those ideas with show-don’t-tell will really help carry that sentiment. Please link me with the revision if you wanted! Great work as always, Nick. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Live and learn! Understanding crazy is hard; interpreting it is even harder. Thanks again for the critique!

          Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.