Oh, I know that he's only been here for a short while, but I feel as though I've known him for years. I understand him, you see. And once he was able to overcome his own clouded delusions, he began to understand *me.* It was very unexpected. He is a very insightful man . . . But, once again, I'm jumping ahead.

I began his treatment with a series of counseling sessions. We met once a day, for about four hours each session. Oh, perhaps that sounds a little excessive, but I assure you it was necessary in his case. In the beginning he was very uncooperative. I would almost call him aggressive. Once he realized that loud proclamations weren't going to get him out of here, he withdrew. I had quite a time getting him to talk when he'd put his mind to remaining silent! He had admirable resolve. However, he couldn't hold out forever. I believe I mentioned that I am renowned for my technique -- it is one hundred percent effective, after all.

       After a few of these difficult beginning sessions, it became clear that Severus was going to cling to his masks and his escape route from the harsh realities of the world for as long as he could. What he needed most was to come to terms with himself. Someone needed to help him look beyond the fantasies he was creating. He needed to be freed from his own defense tactics and illusions. It sounds like a daunting task, but I assure you, it isn't. The hardest part is for them to accept that they need your help, that there is something wrong with them. It's a very painful process.

Once they realize that help is needed, all that is left to do is release them from their self-erected prison walls, if you'll excuse me for the analogy. Severus *was* imprisoned, but not by Satan, and not by this hospital. He was imprisoned by himself. By a false idea of what he needed to be in order to survive in a world entirely of his own creation. But he was not beyond help; beyond hope . . . Anyone could see that. Just under the surface, he was begging for someone to take a little time with him . . . draw him out and help him heal old wounds . . . wounds which I'm fairly certain originate with his parents. It always comes down to the parents, after all.

       Rooting out the truth that lay beneath the many layers of fantasy was not an easy thing to do. He was so stubborn, so very *adamant,* so . . . Now, that's an interesting thing to say. I admired him a great deal . . . for his strength, you see. That's all. His mental willpower . . . But, no, I didn't *love* him. He was my patient at the time. An interesting challenge, and definitely someone I wanted to help . . . but nothing more than that. No, no. I didn't fall in love with that Severus. We had to find the true Severus before I fell in love. You don't look at all surprised! My tone must give me away. Yes, after he was cured -- What? Well, I'd like to think so, yes. He's happy. He lives with me. We live together, I mean. I told you that I was going to take you to see him. Would you rather not hear the rest, then? Is that all you wanted to know? . . . Well, of course you're interested in the cure! I'd hope so. It's not at all a new technique, but I certainly made a few improvements upon it. Quite ancient, actually . . . but, you're in a hurry, aren't you? Right, right.

       The biggest hurdle was listening. Being as stubborn as he was, Severus did not want to listen to me. You can imagine how difficult this became during the times when he also wasn't inclined to speak! I had to find a way to *show* him, beyond a reasonable doubt, that what he relied upon so much as fact was nothing more than his imagination. I had to get his attention, you see. That's what the restraints were for, on the chair in my office. I noticed you looking at them, and I could see that you wanted to ask for an explanation. It's really a very simple concept. The patient is forced to sit still, unable to rant and rave as he or she normally might . . . and certainly unable to storm out of the therapy room. The bonds have also prevented some of the more . . . unruly . . . patients from attacking me when a *particularly* painful truth is unearthed. Severus responded well to the restraints; we didn't have to use them for very long, I'm happy to say.

Once we began utilizing the chair, things moved along much more quickly. Still, I didn't want to rush him too much. You can't force progress with these sorts of things. I find that it is a lot easier to coax a response out of a patient if you start with a physical analysis. Everyone has a physical being, and there's always something about that physicality which is worth discussing. Some people, for instance, believe that their physical bodies are just shells for a more unearthly form. That is a wonderful starting point.

       Alas, Severus held no such notions. His body and his mental state were intertwined, and they were all that he was. He was very self-aware, for being so delusional, and he was filled with self-loathing. I found this terribly sad, since I saw in him what could be a very worthwhile human being, if only he were allowed to see that . . . I urged him to talk about himself. About his body. I can't tell you everything we said, because I keep all of my discussions with my patients private, for the most part. But we made a lot of progress in that area.

       Even the most vain amongst us have something they dislike about their anatomy, and even the most humble can find one feature that is worth some amount of pride. We decided that he hated his nose more than anything, and eventually he did came to admit that his hands were his most praiseworthy feature. Or perhaps the term was "valuable." I'm sure I wrote it down. By accenting the valued feature, he could see that even our best could be improved upon, and by removing the unwanted, I could show him that very little about us permanent . . . we can change what we don't like for the better. Take out the parts of our lives that make us unhappy. Literally.

What an odd expression! You've never heard of that method? Oh, no! Of course I didn't hurt him! . . . You misunderstood me! No, see, aside from the nasal bone, maxilla process, and nasal process which form posterior and superior support base . . . really the nose is made up of only so much cartilage. Slicing through the alar cartilage in order to remove the tip will result in some side-effects . . . loss of vocal resonance, for instance, but really, it does no irreparable damage. You look as though I went straight through the plexus! I assure you, I did not target the inner vomer and just lay waste to all that came before it, scraping clean the various nerves and facial veins. Dear lord! I may not be a medical doctor, but I do have *some* practicing knowledge . . . And I think that you're forgetting that Severus wanted it . . . But I have to forgive you that. *He* forgot that he wanted it . . . I tried to assure him just as I assured you a moment ago, but I'm afraid he panicked a bit. That's why the upper lateral cartilage also had to be removed along with the medial crus of the alar. See, he struggled. And afterwards he was quite upset. We ended the session for that day, an hour early, so that he could compose himself and -- hopefully -- retain his grasp on reality. Remember that I was on his side. So you'll understand why the hands had to wait until the next day . . . are you quite all right? You've gone an odd color. Perhaps you should sit down . . .