Damned.
17 - Jakob
Jakob sat in the room he shared with Zeke, staring around the room. He was getting tired of seeing the same thing over and over again, and he was getting fidgety. His hands twisted in his lap and he stared at the floor. There was a soft knock on the door and a nurse poked her head in.
"Jakob, it's time for your therapy session," she said, motioning for him to go with her. He stood and followed her down the hallway to Dr. Larouse's office. The nurse knocked on the door and the doctor called for him to enter. Jakob gave the nurse a small smile as thanks and went into the doctor's office.
The walls were bare except for the frames that held his Masters and PhD in psychology. The desk was neat and tidy, and there was a small framed picture of a brown haired woman and two brown haired children near the corner of the desk. There was a yellow envelope on the desk in front of the doctor, who turned around his chair to face Jakob.
"Ah, Mr. Neilson! It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the doctor said, motioning for Jakob to take a seat across from him. "Now then, according to this, you have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder by an emergency room doctor," he turned the page, 'and you have served two tours of duty in Iraq." He closed the file and glanced at Jakob over his glasses. "Is this information correct?"
"Yes, sir," Jakob responded. He was nervous around the doctor, but he couldn't figure out why. His hands twisted in his lap, just as they had when he had been waiting to come to this meeting with the doctor. He stared at a spot on the doctor's desk and focused on it.
"Is something the matter, Jakob? You seem very quiet," the doctor observed. "Are you nervous?" Jakob nodded silently, and the doctor smiled. "No need to be nervous, young man. I'm here to help you, and if I'm going to do that, I need to hear your story from you." Jakob nodded again, but he remained silent. The doctor waited patiently. After about five minutes, Jakob shuddered.
"I'm sorry, I can't," he gasped. "I.... I'm scared to talk about it." He was shaking, and he covered his face with his hands.
"I understand, Jakob. I'll have the nurse take you back to your room," the doctor said. Jakob tried to stop his shaking, but he knew it was pointless. It wouldn't stop until his body was ready for it to stop. The door opened with a bang and Jakob cried out. The doctor and the nurse who had come to escort him turned to stare at him. He was on the floor curled in a ball with his hands over his head. Dr. Larouse knelt on the ground next to him, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. Jakob, lost in his flashback, fought against him.
"No, no!" he screamed, thrashing. He tried to break free of the doctor's grasp, not hearing the soothing words the doctor spoke. "No, don't hurt me!" He started to sob, falling against the doctor, the fight gone from him as soon as it had come. The doctor helped him to stand and led him out of the room, waving off the nurse. Dr. Larouse led the young man back to his room and helped him inside. With a small pat on his shoulder, he left without a glance at the young man's roommate.
"Jakob, it's time for your therapy session," she said, motioning for him to go with her. He stood and followed her down the hallway to Dr. Larouse's office. The nurse knocked on the door and the doctor called for him to enter. Jakob gave the nurse a small smile as thanks and went into the doctor's office.
The walls were bare except for the frames that held his Masters and PhD in psychology. The desk was neat and tidy, and there was a small framed picture of a brown haired woman and two brown haired children near the corner of the desk. There was a yellow envelope on the desk in front of the doctor, who turned around his chair to face Jakob.
"Ah, Mr. Neilson! It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the doctor said, motioning for Jakob to take a seat across from him. "Now then, according to this, you have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder by an emergency room doctor," he turned the page, 'and you have served two tours of duty in Iraq." He closed the file and glanced at Jakob over his glasses. "Is this information correct?"
"Yes, sir," Jakob responded. He was nervous around the doctor, but he couldn't figure out why. His hands twisted in his lap, just as they had when he had been waiting to come to this meeting with the doctor. He stared at a spot on the doctor's desk and focused on it.
"Is something the matter, Jakob? You seem very quiet," the doctor observed. "Are you nervous?" Jakob nodded silently, and the doctor smiled. "No need to be nervous, young man. I'm here to help you, and if I'm going to do that, I need to hear your story from you." Jakob nodded again, but he remained silent. The doctor waited patiently. After about five minutes, Jakob shuddered.
"I'm sorry, I can't," he gasped. "I.... I'm scared to talk about it." He was shaking, and he covered his face with his hands.
"I understand, Jakob. I'll have the nurse take you back to your room," the doctor said. Jakob tried to stop his shaking, but he knew it was pointless. It wouldn't stop until his body was ready for it to stop. The door opened with a bang and Jakob cried out. The doctor and the nurse who had come to escort him turned to stare at him. He was on the floor curled in a ball with his hands over his head. Dr. Larouse knelt on the ground next to him, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. Jakob, lost in his flashback, fought against him.
"No, no!" he screamed, thrashing. He tried to break free of the doctor's grasp, not hearing the soothing words the doctor spoke. "No, don't hurt me!" He started to sob, falling against the doctor, the fight gone from him as soon as it had come. The doctor helped him to stand and led him out of the room, waving off the nurse. Dr. Larouse led the young man back to his room and helped him inside. With a small pat on his shoulder, he left without a glance at the young man's roommate.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sooooooo sorry it took me so long to get this out! I realized Jakob had never had a one on one therapy session, so here it is!