Chapter 2
Madness, Thy Name is Crane
"Make yourself comfortable, Jane", Dr. Crane said, seating himself across the bare metal table from her. He set his briefcase on the floor at his feet.
Jane took her own seat, at the insistence of a handy orderly. At least she wasn't in a straightjacket. Yet.
"Now, then", he started. His posture was impeccable, she noted. Hands folded neatly in front of him, shoulders set but relaxed. The frame of this man leaves little to chance, she realized. He showed no weakness. "Let's get right to it, shall we? Tell me about the night of the incident."
She snorted. This was a situation she was growing quite sick of. "The night I was attacked, you mean?"
He nodded, seeming indulgent.
"Haven't we already covered this?" she asked. "You know what happened. I was walking home from work, not too far from here, and a guy came up to me. He asked for a cigarette, but I don't smoke. He didn't believe me, so he tried to strangle me and now I'm in a mental hospital."
Dr. Crane smiled with patience, not kindness. "I know we've gone over the mechanics of the night, Jane. What I want to know more intimately is your emotional response. Something scared you that night, something about it made you forget all your self-defense training and fall back on the primal instinct to physically bite. Perhaps you don't even know what it was. If we go over it, slowly, then I believe we can uncover what made you use your teeth above all other weapons."
She shook her head tiredly. This setting was less than comforting; a conference room of the sort one would see on an episode of Law and Order. The stark white walls were not enticing her to open up. "I have told you everything, more than once. What do you want from me? You want me to make something up?"
Crane turned, looking over his shoulder at the orderly guarding the door. "Would you leave us now, please? Feel free to wait outside."
The man left without question. Jane was uneasy as the young doctor turned back to her.
"Listen here, little Jane. If you ever want to be released from this place, you will cooperate. If I want to know something, you will tell me. You will be honest and forthcoming, do you understand?" Those blue eyes burned into her like sharp ice. He made an attempt to soften his approach, she saw. "We just want to help you, you see? We all need to understand you, Jane."
Jane did see. She saw that when he wanted to intimidate her, he acted alone, and when he wanted to try his version of sweet-talk, his 'I' became a 'we'. That was probably an accurate representation of her place here; she was safer in group therapy with a bunch of thugs and hit men than she was alone in a room with her psychiatrist.
She nodded numbly. She understood.
Crane smiled. "Good, then. I see we'll have to work together on this." He paused, thinking. After a moment, he said, "Hypnotherapy! Yes, excellent. Together, we will relive that night, and get to the bottom of your…well, your fear. Agreed?"
If she ever wanted to be released, indeed. Jane nodded silently again; she saw she had no choice. The smile that greeted her looked less like a man's than the curve of a carnivore's maw; all shining, pointed, hungry knives.
"Good, Jane! Good. Let's begin."