If Only I Knew How to Hate You

Alex

I return the following morning, but reach to find the room empty. My heart nearly panics but I remind myself that she’s probably just in the bathroom, or off for a check up. I look around, ask around, and finally discover she’s outside on a walk.

“Wait,” I hear a voice calling for me. I turn, curious, and find that it’s Dr. Carter. “You’re Mr. Alex Gaskarth, Bailey’s husband or something?” He asks for clarification.

Husband- weird. It reminds me, though, that the ‘deal’ is off, which makes me feel just as weird. I nod. “Uh, yeah, you could say that. Yeah, why?” I furrow my brow. “Is everything okay? She’s okay, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” he says slowly with deliberation. “But I was hoping to draw a conclusion to a slight… condition. A pattern, per say,” he explains. I blink, waiting. “I was wondering if you know anything of… of her sleeping habits.” He watches me, probably looking for a certain reaction.

I just shrug, hands in my pockets. “She sleeps. Sometimes early, sometimes late, just like the rest of us. Is it wrong?”

“Oh, indeed not. After all, we’re still keeping some drugs in her medications to help her sleep. But the pattern and problem we’ve been seeing is, just after dinner when she’s supposed to begin resting and preparing for bed, her heartbeats are practically off the charts.”

I think. “Wait… is that bad?” I say slowly, considering it. “Maybe it’s the food. She’s used to eating pizza, tortellini, likes her coffee just right, and-”

“And that’s what brings the elderly in with intestine problems,” he says, clearly unhumored. Yikes. “And it doesn’t bother her in the mornings or any other time during the day.”

“So… it’s the night,” I nod slowly. “Hmm…”

Dr. Carter peers at me. “That draws to the conclusion… what are her phobias, do you know?”

I shrug. “Spiders. Love. Any kind of bug, actually,” I wrinkle my nose. “And she hates seafood, cause the fish still look alive. Would that be a phobia?”

“No,” he sighs. “So she never had any signs of fearing the dark?”

My eyes widen and my brain starts working like 60 to draw up the conclusions he’s getting. But why would she be afraid of the dark? And the sun’s been setting because it’s later, just around dinnertime, which would make sense. Scared, hearts tend to beat faster, I guess… but why?

Dr. Carter nods. “Thank you, Mr. Gaskarth, you’ve been a help,” and he starts walking off.

“Wait!” I shout, grabbing his arm. “Don’t I have a right to know what your conclusions are?”

He looks at me over his glasses doubtfully. Then he sighs, seeing that I’m going to be stubborn. “My conclusions would be that her… experience in-”

“Kidnapped,” I interrupt. “You can say it. Say what happened. Kidnapped.”

The doctor rolls his eyes. “All right. I’ve surmised from evidence and your word, that her kidnapping was more traumatic than any of us could have supposed. She has said, every time I’ve asked her- and you’ve been there- the last memory she recalls is falling to the ground, being hit in the head.”

I nod. “Yeah. She says that. I get it. What does that have to do with anything?”

“We found her buried underground, alive in her own grave, Mr. Gaskarth. She was dirty, bloody, broken, unconscious and clearly dying. Why is she dreading the dark, we ask? Because she experienced the darkness at an ultimate level that her subconscious has hidden from her, to block the traumatic events. Understand?”

“So…” I try to think it over. “You’re saying… she was awake, at one point, in the… the box?” I clear my throat uneasily, trying to stay calm.

“Yes, precisely that. Her mind has gone too such extreme levels, being faced with a clear and horribly slow death, that she’s blocked it. However a phobia tends to arise from such experiences as this, and thus, her fear of the dark.” He finishes with a nod. “Is that all, Mr. Gaskarth?”

“Uh… yeah… wait, could you call me Alex? That makes me sound old.” He gives me a weird look and I smile sheepishly. “But yeah. I don’t know- what… what can I do? What can anyone do, to help her?” Peering in his eyes, I wait for him to say something, while I’m also trying to come up with my own answer.

He just shrugs. “I do not know. Fear of the dark is a child’s phobia. Fear of… of small spaces, of people- you can use doctors. But the dark?” He shrugs. “We can continue giving her light medication to help her rest, but so she won’t be addicted, we’ll be taking her off in a few short weeks. My own advice, find things to keep her busy, her mind working until she’s exhausted, and it won’t matter. Help her back into a regular routine, naps shortening continually during her weeks of recuperation, anything. A doctor’s advice, of course- after everything, we’re asking that she begin seeing a therapist, as soon as possible.”

“A shrink?”

“A therapist, Alex.”

“Uh… sure. Yeah. Uh, do you- would you suggest anyone somewhere?” I ask awkwardly, rubbing my neck, somewhat uncomfortable. I mean, as weak as she is now, and I want Bay to get better so bad… she’s going to kill me, going to a shrink.

Dr. Carter nods, talks about some lady, and hands me her calling card or whatever it is. “She works here partially,” he adds. “And Bailey is already signed up for a session tomorrow. Doctor’s orders.” And he walks again.

Or she’ll just kill him? Creasing my brow, I stow the card in my back pocket and then head down the grounds, looking for my beautiful girl. It takes a while for me to spot them, but then I notice something like a jumping stick and indeed, it was Jack, doing… something weird.