Johnny and Bruce followed Dr. Simmons down to the end of the corridor and
turned right, leading down another white, empty hallway. Johnny glanced
around at the blank walls, listening to their footsteps echoing off the
walls. Johnny was a bit unsettled by the sterility of his surroundings,
but he wasn't sure if it was this particular hospital or hospitals in
general that made him uneasy.
The doctor led Johnny and Bruce to a small wood door with a large window in the center. At first glance, Johnny thought it was frosted glass, but upon closer inspection he realized it was made of plastic. Glass in a mental hospital could be dangerous. Dr. R. Simmons, M.D. was inscribed on the door in black block lettering.
Dr. Simmons opened the door then held an arm out indicating to Bruce and Johnny that they should enter the room first. Johnny went in followed closely by Bruce, and the doctor closed the door after he followed them inside.
"Please sit," Dr. Simmons told them, waving briefly at two chairs in the room.
Johnny glanced around the office as he mad his way to his seat, taking in the surroundings. Unlike the rest of the hospital that seemed to lack any color, the doctor's office was the opposite. The rug was a plush blue, accented by pale yellow walls. There was a large oak desk in front of clear windows that covered the entire back all of the office, giving them a view of the trees lining the back of the hospital property. There were a few pictures scattered on the window frame behind the desk, and high on the wall to the right were diplomas and school credentials.
Johnny and Bruce sat in chairs facing the desk while Dr. Simmons made his way around to the other side. He sat down in a large brown leather chair, and the chair squeaked in protest under his weight. He leaned back, earning another squeal from the hinges of the chair, and folding his fingers together in front of him.
"So," he finally said. "Why are you really here? I want the truth."
"Like I said before," Johnny answered, "we're here to see how Jessica is doing."
After another agonizing minute of silence, the doctor seemed to finally accept that answer or he at least gave up on getting a different one, because his shoulders seemed to slouch in resignation.
"She's doing as well as can be expected," he finally replied.
"And that means what?" Bruce prodded.
"Meaning she hasn't has any violent episodes recently."
"Does she have them often?"
"I'm really not at liberty to discuss the details of her case. She may be clinically insane, but she still has a right to privacy. I don't want to lose my license because of breaching doctor-patient privilege," Dr. Simmons told them.
"Of course," Johnny responded. "We're not trying to pry, but we're just concerned for her well-being."
"There's no need for concern, Mr. Smith."
"Johnny," Johnny corrected him.
"Johnny," the doctor echoed, continuing. "Jessica is being well cared for here. All of our patients are, but Jessica especially."
"Why is that?" Bruce asked.
"Jess's parents were good friends of mine. I went to school with her mother, Lillah. We were both studying psychology at Harvard when she met Michael, her husband and Jessica's father. She decided to put her schooling on hold to get married and start a family. Little did she know that her psychology degree could have come in handy in helping Jessica."
Dr. Simmons shifted in his chair and sighed heavily. He folded and unfolded his hands, shifting his gaze from Johnny and Bruce momentarily. Johnny got the impression that his mind was miles away from the office at that moment.
"When was Jessica diagnosed as schizophrenic?" Johnny interrupted his thoughts.
"When she was fifteen," he answered, snapping his mind back to the confines of the office.
"And she was taking medication?"
"Yes, and that seemed to work for a while. I didn't know there was a problem until that day. Since then, she hasn't been the same," the doctor explained.
"She hasn't responded to any other treatments at all?" Bruce inquired.
"Unfortunately, no."
"What medication is she on?"
"I'm sorry, gentlemen," Dr. Simmons said, rising from his chair. "We're walking on thin ice here. I've said more than I should. I must look out for Jessica's privacy."
Bruce scooted forward in his chair, opening his mouth to protest, but Johnny put a hand out to stop him and spoke first.
"We understand," Johnny replied, rising from his chair as well. Bruce followed suit, giving his friend a quizzical look.
Dr. Simmons reached across the desk to shake John's hand and the psychic reluctantly took it, fearing the vision that would follow.
Johnny was surprised when the darkness did not consume him. Instead, he was transported to a large, white, Victorian-style house with a yard full of grass greener than any he had ever seen. He could hear birds chirping from trees that seemed to surround the house, and they swayed gently in a warm breeze that rattled the leaves slightly. John walked up to the front of the house, admiring the beautiful wrap around porch despite the fact the paint had begun to peel in places.
Just as Johnny began ascending the creaky wooden stairs to the porch, a young girl of about four or five with waist long dirty blonde hair came running through the door at him, arms outstretched and a large dimpled smile on her face.
"Uncle Bobbie!" she cried.
Johnny opened his arms to catch her, but right before the girl reached him, he was violently thrust back into the present of the doctor's office. Dr. Simmons was looking at him curiously, as was Bruce, but he knew it was for two different reasons.
"Are you all right, Mr. Smith?" the doctor asked.
"I'm fine," Johnny replied, smiling at him in hopes he would believe it. "Just feeling a little tired."
"Ah," Dr. Simmons replied, returning a smile of understanding. "I know the feeling."
"Thank you for taking time to talk to us," Johnny said. "I don't suppose there is any chance we'd be able to see Jessica, is there?"
"As I said earlier, I'm afraid she's in no shape for visitors."
"I don't necessarily mean visit with her, but I would really like to see her. See what type of conditions she's been living with," Johnny continued.
Dr. Simmons opened his mouth to speak, and by the look on his face, Johnny was sure he was going to reject them again, but he closed it again. He looked back and forth between Johnny and Bruce for a moment and sighed before speaking.
"I don't see what harm it can do. Besides, if it turns out you are from the paper, you'll see how well we're taking care of her. This way, please."
The doctor led Johnny and Bruce to a small wood door with a large window in the center. At first glance, Johnny thought it was frosted glass, but upon closer inspection he realized it was made of plastic. Glass in a mental hospital could be dangerous. Dr. R. Simmons, M.D. was inscribed on the door in black block lettering.
Dr. Simmons opened the door then held an arm out indicating to Bruce and Johnny that they should enter the room first. Johnny went in followed closely by Bruce, and the doctor closed the door after he followed them inside.
"Please sit," Dr. Simmons told them, waving briefly at two chairs in the room.
Johnny glanced around the office as he mad his way to his seat, taking in the surroundings. Unlike the rest of the hospital that seemed to lack any color, the doctor's office was the opposite. The rug was a plush blue, accented by pale yellow walls. There was a large oak desk in front of clear windows that covered the entire back all of the office, giving them a view of the trees lining the back of the hospital property. There were a few pictures scattered on the window frame behind the desk, and high on the wall to the right were diplomas and school credentials.
Johnny and Bruce sat in chairs facing the desk while Dr. Simmons made his way around to the other side. He sat down in a large brown leather chair, and the chair squeaked in protest under his weight. He leaned back, earning another squeal from the hinges of the chair, and folding his fingers together in front of him.
"So," he finally said. "Why are you really here? I want the truth."
"Like I said before," Johnny answered, "we're here to see how Jessica is doing."
After another agonizing minute of silence, the doctor seemed to finally accept that answer or he at least gave up on getting a different one, because his shoulders seemed to slouch in resignation.
"She's doing as well as can be expected," he finally replied.
"And that means what?" Bruce prodded.
"Meaning she hasn't has any violent episodes recently."
"Does she have them often?"
"I'm really not at liberty to discuss the details of her case. She may be clinically insane, but she still has a right to privacy. I don't want to lose my license because of breaching doctor-patient privilege," Dr. Simmons told them.
"Of course," Johnny responded. "We're not trying to pry, but we're just concerned for her well-being."
"There's no need for concern, Mr. Smith."
"Johnny," Johnny corrected him.
"Johnny," the doctor echoed, continuing. "Jessica is being well cared for here. All of our patients are, but Jessica especially."
"Why is that?" Bruce asked.
"Jess's parents were good friends of mine. I went to school with her mother, Lillah. We were both studying psychology at Harvard when she met Michael, her husband and Jessica's father. She decided to put her schooling on hold to get married and start a family. Little did she know that her psychology degree could have come in handy in helping Jessica."
Dr. Simmons shifted in his chair and sighed heavily. He folded and unfolded his hands, shifting his gaze from Johnny and Bruce momentarily. Johnny got the impression that his mind was miles away from the office at that moment.
"When was Jessica diagnosed as schizophrenic?" Johnny interrupted his thoughts.
"When she was fifteen," he answered, snapping his mind back to the confines of the office.
"And she was taking medication?"
"Yes, and that seemed to work for a while. I didn't know there was a problem until that day. Since then, she hasn't been the same," the doctor explained.
"She hasn't responded to any other treatments at all?" Bruce inquired.
"Unfortunately, no."
"What medication is she on?"
"I'm sorry, gentlemen," Dr. Simmons said, rising from his chair. "We're walking on thin ice here. I've said more than I should. I must look out for Jessica's privacy."
Bruce scooted forward in his chair, opening his mouth to protest, but Johnny put a hand out to stop him and spoke first.
"We understand," Johnny replied, rising from his chair as well. Bruce followed suit, giving his friend a quizzical look.
Dr. Simmons reached across the desk to shake John's hand and the psychic reluctantly took it, fearing the vision that would follow.
Johnny was surprised when the darkness did not consume him. Instead, he was transported to a large, white, Victorian-style house with a yard full of grass greener than any he had ever seen. He could hear birds chirping from trees that seemed to surround the house, and they swayed gently in a warm breeze that rattled the leaves slightly. John walked up to the front of the house, admiring the beautiful wrap around porch despite the fact the paint had begun to peel in places.
Just as Johnny began ascending the creaky wooden stairs to the porch, a young girl of about four or five with waist long dirty blonde hair came running through the door at him, arms outstretched and a large dimpled smile on her face.
"Uncle Bobbie!" she cried.
Johnny opened his arms to catch her, but right before the girl reached him, he was violently thrust back into the present of the doctor's office. Dr. Simmons was looking at him curiously, as was Bruce, but he knew it was for two different reasons.
"Are you all right, Mr. Smith?" the doctor asked.
"I'm fine," Johnny replied, smiling at him in hopes he would believe it. "Just feeling a little tired."
"Ah," Dr. Simmons replied, returning a smile of understanding. "I know the feeling."
"Thank you for taking time to talk to us," Johnny said. "I don't suppose there is any chance we'd be able to see Jessica, is there?"
"As I said earlier, I'm afraid she's in no shape for visitors."
"I don't necessarily mean visit with her, but I would really like to see her. See what type of conditions she's been living with," Johnny continued.
Dr. Simmons opened his mouth to speak, and by the look on his face, Johnny was sure he was going to reject them again, but he closed it again. He looked back and forth between Johnny and Bruce for a moment and sighed before speaking.
"I don't see what harm it can do. Besides, if it turns out you are from the paper, you'll see how well we're taking care of her. This way, please."