The Becoming
Your son is very sick...
She just knew those words would pass the doctor's lips.
In a very real way she knew it already.
He was her son, after all, and this was something a mother could sense. The day of the accident she'd felt it. He was 20 miles away when it happened, but she remembered the panic and pain that had shot through her system, ripping her from sleep and leaving her panting in her bed. Her husband had rolled over, grunting his displeasure at the disturbance.
"What is it?" he mumbled.
"Its Chad!"
All the terror she felt were in those two words and it must have registered because he was awake immediately.
They got on the phone, trying to reach their son and his girlfriend. Chad and Nicole had spent the weekend at a friend's cabin in the next county. Out by Birnam wood, on Lake Sol. They were supposed to be driving back that night; they'd phoned ahead to say they'd be in very late and not to wait up for them.
Something must have happened.
-----
That was three months ago.
Now they were in a different kind of hospital to the one Chad and Nicole were rushed to the night of the accident.
She hated hospitals. Despised them. They stunk of despair.
Even so, she had to admit this place wasn't half bad - for a hospital.
Encantadora Lodge was a quaint, rustic building set on a massive acreage in the woodlands bordering the Colorado Rockies. The grounds were well kept and beautiful. Rolling green lawns under the eternal sentinels of the Rockies.
It was small for an institution, admitting no more than 40 patients at a time, with a staff compliment 20 of highly qualified caregivers on rotation. The place was idyllic, and the Head of Staff, Dr. James Bryce, was one of the most highly respected clinical psychologists in the country. Maybe even the world.
It was the best place for Chad.
They paused at the reception desk in the grandly appointed lobby, where a pretty nurse greeted them with a warm smile.
"Mr. and Mrs. Karlysle, Dr. Bryce is expecting you," she gestured at two comfortable armchairs, "Please, have a seat, the doctor won't be a minute."
They thanked the nurse and sat down. Maggie Karlysle fidgeted in her seat, fingering the pages of a magazine on a side table. She couldn't control her anxiety. The doctor had sounded worried when he called them in this morning, to "Have a chat about Chad."
What did that mean, if anything? Was she reading too much into his tone? Would her only son be okay?
These were the questions that raged through her mind as she sat and waited. Her husband, Jack, was a lot more calm. He sat, quite still, staring out the window at the garden. Maggie continued to fidget, smoothing out the miniscule wrinkles on her skirt, and rearranging the magazines in front of her in alphabetical order. Finally, just when Jack was about to tell her to sit still, a door opened to the side of the reception desk and Dr. Bryce stepped out into the lobby.
He was young, probably in his early thirties. Remarkable for a man of his stature. Slim, wavy sandy hair, and green eyes hidden behind trendy gold wire-frame glasses. He also greeted the Karlysle's with a smile, and shook Jack's hand.
"Thank you for coming," his voice was deeper than expected, a low burr that rumbled, "Please, follow me into my office."
He stepped back and held open the door. Maggie and Jack filed in, Dr. Bryce following and closing the door behind them. He indicated a plush couch in the centre of the office that served as a conversation area, and reclined himself in a leather easy chair.
He folded his leg over his knee and regarded them with a serious expression. Maggie's heart started ramming against her ribcage. The doctor didn't seem particularly distressed, but he did have a hint of worry about him. She pursed her lips into a thin line, and waited for him to talk.
"Your son is very sick."
Maggie winced at the words, fighting back tears that started to form in her eyes, and forced herself to listen to the doctor.
"The accident he suffered caused a massive amount of brain trauma, though the hemorrhaging was slight and has already faded. But the psychological trauma is another matter entirely," his words were crisp and to the point, he obviously shot from the hip, "Chad is experiencing a severe case of PTS, Post Traumatic Stress, possibly because he feels accountable for the accident."
"But it wasn't his fault," Maggie interrupted, "They were hit by a drunk driver, and his girlfriend wasn't hurt. Only Chad was injured."
"I know Mrs. Karlysle," Dr. Bryce kept his tone calm, "And Chad knows this too. But psychological trauma is rarely logical. For a reason he probably couldn't voice himself he does feel guilty. He feels he could've done more. This is my assessment after spending many hours talking to Chad over the last month. Most of the time, he's quite normal. It's obvious he's highly intelligent, and a quite a linguist as well."
"He got a scholarship to study writing at NYU," Maggie volunteered, feeling the familiar flush of pride at her son's achievement.
"He's always wanted to be a writer," Jack explained, "He's been scribbling since he could walk."
Dr. Bryce favoured them with an indulgent smile. Parents were all the same.
"I know. He's told me," he said, "The point is, most of the time, Chad is the same bright young man he always was. He's quite popular around here, actually. All the patients like him. They try to spend as much time with him as possible, and I must say Chad has been great with that. Considering that by all accounts he's more normal than anyone else we have here. And I think more than a few of the nurses are a little in love with him. He's quite charming."
"But..." Maggie prompted.
"But, he's been having episodes," said Dr. Bryce, his expression growing grave, "Periods where he's not himself. In fact, it's quite serious. Mr. and Mrs. Karlysle, in my professional opinion, I'm going to have to diagnose Chad with MPD."
Jack's eyes widened in shock, "Multiple Personality Disorder?"
"Precisely. Chad has two personalities. The Chad personality is still dominant. As I said, most of the time he's normal. But there are periods when the other personality takes over; the longest thus far has been several hours. And once that personality recedes, Chad has no memory of what he was doing when he was... the other one."
"Is there anything we can do?"
"We can continue to medicate him, there are a number of prescriptive drugs that have proved effectual for cases like Chad's. Until then we'd like to keep him here, where he's safe. It's a serious situation. Chad, as his other personality, could be a danger to himself."
Now Maggie Karlysle's tears did come. Freely. Her boy, in danger? No!
"This other personality," Jack began, "Who is it?"
Dr. Bryce took a few moments before answering.
"I understand your son's a fan of the TV show, Smallville?"
Jack frowned, "Yes, its his favourite show. He writes stories about it and posts them on the Internet."
"Well, I'm afraid that's the root of the problem."
"How do you mean?"
"Mr. Karlysle, Chad's trauma has forced him to take sanctuary in his fantasies. And Smallville is apparently a big part of that fantasy world. He believes he's one of the characters," he paused, and leaned forward, still serious, "Chad believes that he's Clark Kent. He thinks he's Superman."
.
.
.