The Outlier

It had been three days since Anita made her final decision to stop her search for a second opinion. In that time, the teen found it harder and harder to carry on through the pain and the whispers. Most days, it was a miracle if she could even find her way out of bed for anything other than to use the bathroom. On the good days, she could get herself out of bed and participate in family activities like watching a movie or maybe going out for an afternoon walk with her dad.

Anita hated feeling like this. It was a weakness she had never before experienced. Sure, she had been sick and had felt weak, but she never felt worthless or like she was on Death’s doorstep.

A light knock on her bedroom door made Anita push herself up to a sitting position, wincing as her head pounded in protest.

“Yeah?” she practically choked out, pulling her soft lavender blanket closer to her face.

Marsha slowly and quietly opened the door, letting herself into the darkened room.

“Hi, honey,” she almost whispered. “How are you?”

”...sick, so sick.”

Anita shook her head, partially to signal that she wasn’t feeling well and partially to get the voice out of her brain.

“I know you said you were done with doctors-”

“I said I would see one more, mom, as long as they were gonna help me through this instead of trying to call it something else.”

Marsha sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “I just got a call,” she said hesitantly. “There’s a doctor that was referred to your case from one of the other doctors we saw. He said he wants to meet with you.”

“What’re his thoughts?” she asked skeptically.

Marsha sighed again and started wringing her hands. “He doesn’t think it’s schizophrenia.”

Anita leaned forward, dropping her blanket and folding her hands in her lap. “...what?”

“He said that judging by your scans, even a rare or complex form of the disease wouldn’t look like this. He wants to run a few more tests though.”

Anita nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. “What’s his name? Have we heard of him?”

Her mother shook her head. “He wasn’t on our radar, which is why it surprised us that he contacted us. His name is Dr. Vincent Walsh.”

****

Anita, Marsha, and Caden were in the car, making their way to the Association for Medical Advancements branch near their hometown. It was about an hour and a half away, but based on what this new doctor had said, the sixteen-year-old was more than willing to make the trip.

“Are we there yet?” Anita joked, still half-drugged from the pain medication she took before leaving the house.

Caden chuckled a little, glancing back in the rearview mirror. “Not yet, sweetpea,” he said softly. “You know,” he continued after a while. “I don’t think I remember seeing you like this since you were in single digits.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caden shook his head and chuckled again. “It just feels like you’re six again. Riding in the back seat, just waking up from a nap, asking if we’re there yet. It’s actually kinda cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Anita replied, purposefully pouting like a child. “I’m an adult.”

Marsha couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s right, baby, you’re an adult now.”

Anita giggled to herself as the pain meds started to wear off. In the brief moment between a pain-free high and being in pain and sober, she felt free. She hadn’t really smiled, let alone laughed, since she had been diagnosed. She was excited to meet this Dr. Walsh and find out what he thought.

By the time the family pulled up to the gates of AFMA, Anita’s pills had worn off and her headaches were already starting to come back.

A man in a security guard uniform came up to the driver’s side and Caden rolled down the window.

“Afternoon, sir,” the security guard greeted warmly. Anita looked out the window and saw he was wearing a nametag that read ‘Craig.’ “What can I do for you folks today?”

“We have an appointment with Dr. Walsh for our daughter.”

Craig looked into the back of the car to see the petite, pale, freckle-faced redhead. “You the daughter in question?”

Anita shrugged. “Guilty.”

Craig chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You guys can head on in. Go straight to the welcome desk. Someone will lead you to where you guys need to go.”

“Sounds good,” Caden replied with a smile. “Thank you, Craig.”

He nodded, smiling as he did so. “You folks have a nice day.”

The gate creaked open and Caden pulled forward onto the estate, following the signs until he was able to find a spot to park.

Anita pulled on a pair of sunglasses before stepping out of the small, black car. The estate itself was fairly large, with paved roadways and cobblestoned walkways that wandered around gardens and clusters of trees. The building, however, took up a great deal of the space. It looked like a hospital from a futuristic movie; most of it was white with lots of windows, and was built in a way that Anita didn’t really think possible. The building had sharp, powerful edges that made the teen feel put-off, yet oddly relaxed. And even on a cloudy day like this one, the building still stood as a brilliant, shining monument.

Anita followed her parents into the building and some of the feeling of wonder she had outside was lost upon entering the building. It was disappointingly close to what a normal hospital lobby looked like, which made the teen dread the idea of agreeing to see this doctor.

Standing at the front desk were a few doctors, one or two nurses, and a handful of patients and families. Sitting behind the desk, though, was a woman that was about as petite as Anita, but was obviously much older.

“Can I help you three?” she asked sweetly, making eye-contact with Marsha first.

Marsha nodded and walked over to the desk, leaning on it slightly. “Yes, my daughter is here for an appointment with Dr. Walsh.”

One of the doctor’s perked up. With his light brown hair and matching facial scruff, he almost reminded Anita of an excited dog hearing someone say ‘treat.’

“Actually,” the lady behind the desk started, gesturing to the interested doctor. “That-”

He walked over to the family, extending a hand. “You must be the Nash family,” he unintentionally interrupted. “I’m Dr. Vincent Walsh.”

Anita couldn’t help but smile. This man obviously knew about her condition, but he had a kind of charisma that made her feel warm and welcome, and maybe even in a little less pain.

“I’m Caden,” Anita’s father started, taking the man’s hand and shaking it. “This is my wife, Marsha, and my daughter, Anita.”

Dr. Walsh’s gaze immediately fell on the teen. “Anita, how are you feeling today? Are you in any kind of pain.”

Anita nodded. “Yeah, but only a little. It’s no big deal,” she lied.

Vincent raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that was almost condescending. “You don’t need to lie to me, Anita. If you’re in a lot of pain, we can get you something for it.”

“Honestly, I’m fine,” she replied. “I’d just like to get started with this whole...thing.”

He nodded, gesturing towards the elevators at the back of the lobby. “Well, shall we then?”

The family followed Dr. Walsh into the elevator. He pulled out his ID tag and swiped it before pushing one of the floor buttons.

“So how have you guys been looking for your second opinion?”

“Feels like forever,” Anita mumbled.

“Almost three months,” Marsha answered. “We’ve seen a lot of doctors and they all told us the same thing.”

“Well,” Vincent said, watching the floor numbers on the LCD display. “Hopefully I’ll be able to tell you something different.”

The elevator dinged and the four of them stepped off. Vincent led them down a few winding hallways before stopping at his office.

“If you guys could wait outside, I’d like to talk to Anita alone.”

“Of course,” Caden replied with a smile. “Just let us know if you need anything from us.”

Anita followed Vincent into the examination room attached to his office and sat on the table.

“So other than the pain and the whispers, have you been experiencing any other symptoms?”

Anita shrugged. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Having trouble sleeping?”

“Only ‘cause I’m in a lot of pain.”

Vincent nodded, jotting something down in his chart. “What about images? Do you ever see pictures or hallucinations?”

The teen shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

“Okay, then,” he muttered, writing more in the file before throwing both the chart and his pen on the desk beside them. “Let me just do a quick physical examination.”

He went through the same kind of process as Anita’s regular doctor. Blood pressure, eye exam, ear check, the works.

“Well, you seem pretty healthy, sans brain issues.” he concluded. “Let’s take a peek at your scans, shall we?”

Anita nodded. “I actually haven’t seen them yet.”

“Are you serious?” he asked in disbelief.

The sixteen-year-old simply shrugged.

“Well, take a look.”

With a bit of flair, he flicked on the lights to show the various CT scans, x-rays, and MRI scans that Anita had done in the last three months.

“Wow,” she whispered. “That’s...wow.”

“This one in particular is what really interested me in your case,” he said, pointing to one of the CT scans. “Come over and take a look.”

Anita hopped off the table and walked over to Vincent, looking at the scan.

“Do you see this bright spot right here?”

Anita nodded.

“That’s usually completely dark,” he continued, trying to hold back his excitement. “I mean, yes, we do get some individuals that have a little activity, but this? This is unprecedented.”

“But it’s such a tiny spot,” she countered. “How’s that causing me problems?”

“I’m assuming you’ve heard the incredible statistic that humans only use roughly ten percent of their brain, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true, right?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Vincent assured her, taking a seat in one of the rolling desk chairs. “But sometimes, we’ll get people wandering into this office that have upwards of fourteen or fifteen percent.”

“And that’s...good?”

Vincent nodded. “They can do some crazy stuff. Sometimes it’s improved memory, excellent eyesight, hearing that almost goes beyond human range, but other times, it’s parts of the brain that usually don’t do anything.”

“Like me?”

“Exactly like you, Anita.”

“So what does this all mean?” she asked in almost a begging fashion. “How much of my brain am I actually using?”

Vincent sighed, tilting his head as he looked back at the scan again. “I’d have to wager...twenty percent? Give or take, though.”

“Twenty?!” Anita exclaimed. “So what, do I have super powers, or something?”

Dr. Walsh shrugged. “Maybe with more expansion on this one part of your brain, sure.”

“So I’m not crazy? I’m not sick?”

“Those whispers, Anita? I think that’s the thoughts of others around you.”

“...incredible…”

“And the headaches, I think, is just your brain trying to compensate for this thing it doesn’t know how to use.”

Anita leaned back against the examination table. “Holy shit,” she breathed out. She looked around the room, hoping to find something else to say. “Holy shit!”

Vincent nodded, chuckled quietly to himself. “Yeah, it’s a huge thing to process. But before we start any treatments, I’d like to do some more tests.”

“Oh yeah, that’s no biggie,” Anita said quickly. “I’m really excited, let’s get started, I’m ready!”

Dr. Walsh gave a full laugh, leaning back in his chair. “You’re really eager, aren’t you? Well, no worries, kid, you’ll be a superhero soon enough.”