Fairytale
Fairytale
It was the strangest thing to have happened. The Doctor had never before been encountered by such a dilemma. And the pathetic fallacy of it all….
He was sitting in his neat yet barren office after closing hours. The lights had been turned off lest the electric company charged extra. Long shadows of entangled branches stretched out on the floor, reflected even more sharply when the lightning flashed nearby. The rumbling sound never frightened the Doctor before, but that day had been no ordinary day.
What made him stay back after closing were the thoughts of an old patient who had come back after many years. His paranoia had risen again, and he came back with an even worse twitch then when he had been in treatment. “I know I’m being followed, Doctor!” he had cried, tears streaming down his frightened face. “People stare at me as if they want to kill me!”
Of course, though, the Doctor often saw people like that. After all, he did specialize in mental disorders and illnesses. And he was quite passionate about it too! After witnessing his mother commit suicide due to depression during his own childhood, he promised himself to never let others suffer as he and his father had.
These old memories, thoughts of his patients and what he could do next to help them, were what kept him back even after his young secretary/assistant notified him of her departure. The mild rain that had been pouring all day had turned to a raging thunderstorm soon as the sun set, followed by lightning and howling winds. Often what snapped him out of his thoughts were the branches that banged against his window so sharply, he worried that the windows would soon break.
He saw the door open a crack through his peripheral view. He sighed deeply and got up to close it when the lightning flashed on pale skin behind the door. Caught off guard, the Doctor pulled open the door with full force and surprised was he to see a young girl standing on the welcome mat, soaked to the bone. She was uncovered from the storm, her drenched cloak clasped tightly in one hand, her other hand held by a medium sized lady, whom the Doctor noticed only after seeing her hand; she had been hiding in the shadows. He stood back and let them through to his office. The girl and her chaperone took a seat on the edge of the long sofa wordlessly. He strode to his desk adjacent to the sofa, and leaned back in his armchair. A little annoyed, he stared at them staring at their feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in a clipped tone. “Did you not see the CLOSED sign at the door?”
“Sir, we… we needed some s-shelter,” the lady stuttered, her silhouette shaking noticeably in the darkness of the room. “The door was unlocked… a-and we actually c-came to s-see you.”
“See me? What for?” The Doctor asked, sitting up straight. Through thoughts of telling his secretary off for not locking up properly, he felt the magnetic waves of a patient in need. He stood up quickly and walked in long strides to his large walk-in closet by the entrance to the office door. He rummaged through and finally found a thick coarse blanket and some towels. He threw the towels to the women, holding the blanket while they dried up. Then he covered them gently with the blanket, tossed the towels under his desk in an empty bin, and again resumed his position in his chair.
The two ladies were silent for a while as they warmed up. When their shivering ceased, the lady stood up and walked a little hesitantly towards the desk. The Doctor waited patiently for the shy lady to speak.
“You see, we’re from a nearby village, and it took us all day to come here,” the lady explained, her tone humble and apologetic. “We meant to get here sooner, but the storm had delayed our trip.”
“I can understand,” the Doctor amended, regretful of his stern behaviour from before. “I can try to help in any way I can. What is your issue at hand?”
“The… the problem isn’t mine, sir—I mean, Doctor. I-it’s… my daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter,” a voice came from the young girl. She was still looking down. The Doctor peered around the mother and looked more carefully at the girl. Her dark long honey blond hair covered her face as she looked down at her feet. Her thin legs looked like pale sticks stuck on little black shoes. Her deep blue dress was quite worn and old. Her thin hands rested on her knees. Overall, she looked very fragile.
The woman looked back at the girl and then quickly back at the Doctor. She gave a hesitating smile before facing the girl again. “No dear, we shouldn’t say such things… what will the nice man think?” The girl did not reply. She did not move.
The Doctor cleared his throat. “I think it would be best if I speak with both of you separately.” He looked pointedly at the lady. She nodded, though she looked somewhat confused, and followed his gesture to wait in the sitting area. She paused at the door, looked at back her daughter, and sighed sadly. The lady quietly closed the door behind her. The Doctor turned to face the girl, and stared hard at her for a long time. Then he got up and dragged a chair towards the sofa.
“What’s your name?” he asked her after he realized that she was not willing to start talking. She did not answer him. “Is that not your real mother?” he tried again. For a while the girl didn’t answer, but as soon as he was about to ask another question, she shook her head. Taken aback, the Doctor stared at the girl. “Where’s your real mother?” he asked quietly.
“She died,” the girl whispered. “She died giving birth to me.” The girl looked up suddenly, looking straight at the Doctor. The Doctor felt shock run through his spine as his eyes met with the young girl’s, as if the lightning had struck him instead of some hundred miles away. Unlike most people’s eyes, even unlike his patient’s eyes, this young girl’s deep blue eyes lacked that light, that shine, which signaled life. They were blank, expressionless… dead. Her face was beautiful for a young girl, full of maturity and wisdom. Her small mouth was full and dark pink. What mesmerized the Doctor was how she lacked the life that people carried in their very posture, but this young odd girl seemed like none he had ever encountered.
“Would you like to hear my story?” she asked quietly. The Doctor snapped out of his analysis of the girl’s physical appearance and switched to his professional mode: to analyze the mind. He nodded curtly, and was soon living in the girl’s world through her words.
It had been storming that day as well, when the young girl was born. Complications arose and the midwife quickly took the little girl away from the ailing mother, who, within the hour, passed away. The father wept for three days and three nights, and finally took on the challenge to raise his daughter on his own. The two lived in pure bliss, always together, until one day the girl asked, “Papa, where’s Mama?” and the father realized his daughter was missing someone in her life… someone important.
He married a widow in the village. She came with little luggage and a daughter few years older than his own. Under his watchful eye did the girl grow happily, adjusting to her new mother and sister, though one fateful day he met with an accident and passed away, and the girl’s life changed ultimately. Suddenly her new mother and sister picked on her, hurt her, called her names, and made her work endlessly.
She went to fetch some water from the well one day, smiling as usual, when an old hag came up to her and asked her for a drink of water. The girl gladly obliged and offered her piece of daily bread as well, which she had kept in her apron pocket for lunch.
“You are ever so kind,” the hag said, “and for that I shall reward you.” She waved her wrinkled hand and suddenly the girl felt ill. What kind of a reward is this? She wondered with fear, when suddenly she bent down and threw up… a diamond? A diamond, followed by some pearls and a rose.
“What’s going on?” she cried, and a ruby and some small sapphires slipped through her mouth into her apron pocket. The old hag cackled joyously and marched away, waving. Dazed, the girl walked back home, forgetting all about the water. She bumped into her stepsister, who slapped her shoulder for leaving behind the pail on the hill by the well. When the young girl tried to protest and more gems and flowers slipped from her lips, the stepsister quickly did some calculations and reassured her sister generously, “It’s okay, dear sister. I shall get the water.” And all along she was thinking, maybe the witch will reward me, too… I’m sure it was the local witch, she always dresses as a hag and surprises the villagers.
Waiting for an hour and a half, the stepsister cussed under her breath and towed the pail down the hill towards their home when a handsome young man riding a horse came by. “Excuse me, m’lady, but will you please spare some water for my horse and I, as we are weary from travel.” The stepsister, tired of waiting under the blistering sun, showed her true nature and screamed at the man, “Sure! Have it all!” and splashed the horse and the bewildered man with the pail’s entire contents. The horse disappeared and the man transformed into the beautiful local witch.
“You shall be cursed for your impertinent behaviour. Have you no manners?” The witch raised her hand and suddenly the stepsister felt ill. She heaved and gagged, and bending down, she spewed small toads and snails and snakes. The creepy crawlies slithered through her legs and hid in the grass. Screeching, she ran home to the comfort of her mother’s arms. As she tried to explain her dilemma, the small cottage began to be engulfed by the horrendous creatures that slithered from her mouth. Eventually the stepmother banished her that day, and the girl ran to hide in a cave.
Within the week, news travelled across the land of the girl and her gemmed words, and soon after a greedy prince came looking for her. He swept her away, feigning love to her, and placed her in the royal library. “Read to me, O fair one!” he exclaimed, and sat with a giant cauldron at her feet. After reading a whole third of the library’s contents, the girl’s voice ceased to come out, and her gems and flowers ceased their flow. With every croak came a puny diamond, carrying as much value as a gold doubloon. Enraged, the greedy prince locked the young girl in a dungeon, where she was made to stay until she made diamonds appear again.
The prince’s kind younger brother had been watching the girl the entire time, however, and fell in love with her sweet nature and her innocent voice. Looks didn’t matter to him, but even then he was attracted to her quiet beauty. He slew his greedy brother in a duel, and rescued his true love, and they lived happily ever after.
The girl’s voice faded away, and the Doctor awoke from delirium. He shook his head a little, and stared at the girl staring at him. A small spark of life lit her face, but only mildly.
“Th-that’s your life story?” he asked, bewildered. It sounded more like a fairy tale he’d heard as a child.
“Yes,” she said, a little sharply. “Are you questioning my experiences?”
“Of course… not,” the Doctor said, shaking his head for emphasis. “But do tell me, child, why has your mother—”
“She’s not my mother,” the girl enunciated.
“That woman… why did she bring you here?”
“She thinks that I am ill. But the problem is her,” the girl started to shake. Her eyes turned round and a wildness entered their blueness. “She kidnapped me. She doesn’t like the fact that her daughter was cursed and that I was gifted. She’s always hated me. She needs to be restrained. My… my prince, he’s waiting for me.” She stood up, looking at the walls wildly. “Where am I? What is this place?” Her hands shook as she tried to lift them. “No! No! NO!” She started to tremble and screech. She fell to the ground and covered her face. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t lie again! No! Please don’t!” She lay on the ground, curled into a ball, and trembled, whimpering. The Doctor got up swiftly and arranged a desensitizing needle. While he injected the trembling girl in the shoulder, the woman peeked in through the door.
“I… heard her yelling and screaming. Is everything okay?” she asked shyly.
The Doctor looked up quizzically. He finished working on the girl, and carefully placed her on the sofa. “I’ve put her to sleep for a while, she began to hype up… is there anything you would like to tell me?”
“Yes.” She waited and looked at the girl gently, before falling to the chair the Doctor had been occupying. “Doctor sir, my husband and I have adopted her, and it’s been only a few months.” The Doctor took his seat behind his desk. He held up a finger, motioning for the lady to stop for a minute.
“Please,” he added hoarsely to his silent request. He buried his head in his hands, trying to erase the girl’s breakdown from his memory. He got up, walked to his walk-in closet, and prepared two cups of coffee. He handed one to the lady, who had dragged her chair up to his large oak desk, and placed his by his arm after sipping a few. “You may continue.”
“We adopted her, officially some months ago, from an asylum in the next city over. Before us, she had been transferred to many homes. Many abusive; some kind but unable to keep her for personal reasons. We decided to take her in for keeps when we heard her drastic story.” The woman paused, blew at her coffee, and sipped some. “Ah, that hits the cold spot.” She shook her head gratefully.
“Was she orphaned?” the Doctor asked. “She said…”
“Yes, she says often, that she was orphaned, but what we heard was that her mother did not want her. We haven’t been told why, but her real parents used to hit her real hard as a baby. ‘Tis lucky she ain’t been injured in the head! We had her tested,” the woman added. She seemed to warm to the Doctor. She sipped more before continuing. “She was kidnapped by a maid, who couldn’t stand to see her so hurt, and then, as the unmarried maiden had nowhere to hide her, gave her to a friend, who nurtured the child at first, but her drunk husband would always hit her as way of unleashing his own frustration.”
A moment of silence ensued between the two. The dark room continued to be lighted momentarily by lightning. The unconscious girl on the sofa twitched from time to time, as if bad dreams raged inside her head even when she was forced to sleep.
“What happened then?” the Doctor asked. “She doesn’t seem depressed like many of my patients who experience trauma.” It did intrigue him indeed, how the young girl’s mind must be working. But it unnerved him too. She was so different… so special.
“Well, I had heard that one of the few nice families she lived momentarily with had filled her with so much love that she gets confused often,” the woman said, chugging down the rest of her coffee. “Doctor, you brew nice coffee!” She gave him a smile that radiated her face and transformed it to something more pleasant. The worry lines that terrorized her face somehow softened up and gave her a motherly look.
The Doctor couldn’t help but smile back. “Why don’t the two of you stay the night here? It doesn’t seem like the storm will let up any time soon, and it’s very late—” the Doctor looked to the looming grandfather clock in the east corner of his office “—it’s already past eleven o’clock.”
“But… are you saying we stay here alone?” the woman asked hesitantly. Her worry lines reformed again, aging her by decades.
“No,” the Doctor said gently. “You won’t be alone. I live just down the street in one of the shabby apartments. I plan to move upstairs of this office next month, so the bedding is already set.” He picked the girl tenderly from the sofa, and led the way upstairs. Laying her down on his plump bed, he slid her over to make room for the woman. As he lingered in the doorway, he spied the lady caressing the girl’s face and kissing it a couple times softly. Fat tears rolled off her face and splattered across the girl’s thin cheeks. He gave a small sigh and locked the doors tightly before heading home.
All night, he couldn’t sleep a wink: the girl’s unknown problem tainted his memory. Around three o’clock in the morning, he finally sat up, made a mental note to talk to his mentor, and finally slept a little more peacefully.
Bright and early the next day, the Doctor ate his bread and drank his tea quickly and rushed to the asylum across town. He stopped on the cobblestone road in front of the quiet building. It had always unnerved him, this place. Full of life, yet always silent. The patients inside were often considered to be mental, but all they needed was love, encouragement, and a new chance at life.
The Doctor entered the building, the door creaking with every move. He took a deep breath and strode inside. At the receptionist desk he was greeted and asked to wait in the lobby. The receptionist buzzed in whom the Doctor had requested on an old buzzer, and informed the Doctor to wait a moment.
Doctor Peterson walked into the lobby waiting area quietly. He smiled at the Doctor and both exchanged a warm handshake.
“It has been a long time since you walked in here,” Doctor Peterson said with a warm smile. “Only now you came as a professional, not as an assistant. How is your work coming along?”
The two men sat down on the plastic chairs in the lobby. “I have come to ask you for help,” the Doctor said a little timidly. “You see, I encountered a problem last night.”
“I see,” Doctor Peterson said. He ran a hand through his small goatee, scratching under his bottom lip. “What might that be? We can think of a solution together, just like old times.”
“I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s a gut feeling I had when I had been listening to my patient last night.”
“I see.”
“I felt that… when I was listening to my patient, I wasn’t listening to her… but another side of her. What I mean is, it did not seem like she was in her full senses,” the Doctor faltered. He sounded so stupid! But it had made so much sense in his head last night… possibly the hour he had been thinking had gotten the best of him after all.
Doctor Peterson was silent. He was thinking intently. “So what you are trying to say, is that she didn’t seem to be who she claimed to be, or acted out to be?”
“Yes, and no. She wasn’t faking it. She believed in everything she had been telling me as if she had lived it. But what she told me—”
“Ah,” Doctor Peterson interrupted with a kind smile. “Don’t tell me the problem. It’s supposed to be confidential. Never forget that.”
“My apologies. What I meant to say was that the events were remembered in a third person point of view.”
“Story like?”
“Yes. Exactly.” The Doctor nodded quickly.
“I have encountered this once before, and I am not sure if it would apply here as this problem is quite rare. It can come in many forms, I suppose. You may use it to diagnose this patient of yours.” Doctor Peterson continued to stroke his goatee thoughtfully.
“What is it?” the Doctor asked a little excitedly. He felt like a student again, working side by side and learning from the much experienced Doctor Peterson.
The old doctor pulled a worn copy of a diagnosis book from one of his large lab coat pockets. He flipped through and touched upon a page slightly less used than others. “It’s informally referred to as ‘delusional disorder’. By itself it is quite rare, but can be found together with schizophrenia.” Doctor Peterson studied the page at hand more deeply. Then he shut the book with a snap and held it for a minute before handing it to the Doctor. “Page 279.” He smiled warmly.
The Doctor carefully took the book and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Teacher. You have really taught me the best of everything.”
“Good luck,” Doctor Peterson said with a nod. The Doctor exited the building and rushed back across town to his office.
The door was left open once again. The Doctor rushed by his secretary with a quick “Good morning, Natalia. We need a stern talking to later on.” The secretary blushed and ducked her head.
Morning light filtered through the window and on the two ladies still sound asleep in the new apartment. The Doctor stopped at the doorway. He stared intently at the sleeping girl’s serene face, free of the fear she showed the night before. Her chest moved up and down rhythmically. At the sound of his footsteps, the woman stirred and rose slowly. She smiled sleepily at the Doctor and then looked down at her daughter. She stroked her hair aside. Upon the touch the girl awoke. Her eyes popped open immediately at the touch, and swivelled around in their sockets until they rested on the Doctor.
He walked up to the bed slowly, pulled out a wooden stool from beneath the bed, and settled himself by the girl’s side. “Good morning,” he said gently.
“I know you,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “You won’t hurt me… will you?”
“I can only help; I can never hurt beautiful little children.” The Doctor smiled kindly at the girl, and her tense face relaxed.
“Are you going to help me?” she asked in a timid voice
“Do you feel like you need help?” the Doctor asked. He put his hand on his chin, resting his elbow on his knee.
“Sometimes,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think people are out to get me, to kill me. No one likes me.”
“But I love you,” the woman said tenderly. “Your father and I both love you.”
The Doctor looked at the girl, watching her expressions. Her face contorted at first, but then broke down into an exhausted frown. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”
“No?” It was more of a question, probing the Doctor to explain himself.
“You told me a fairy tale. And you said it happened to you.”
“I… I did?” the girl looked confused, trying to remember last night’s events. “Which one? I know many fairy tales, but only some appeal to me.”
“Why do they appeal to you?”
“I feel like they happened to me. I can relate to the princesses.”
“Why?”
“Because they always are hurt from the time they are born. No one but Prince Charming ever wants them…”
“Which one is your favourite?” The Doctor felt like he was closing in on the mystery of this girl. His Teacher was right, she was delusional: she had imagined herself to be the princesses to escape the cruelty of reality. The momentary pain of being unwanted followed by true everlasting love always outshone and overrode the reality of abuse and neglect, especially in severe cases such as hers.
“I like a lot of them. Cinderella is a nice one, but I love Toads and Diamonds. I love the idea of the girl being able to spit out jewels. Isn’t it a fantastic idea?” the girl cried happily, sitting up abruptly and clapping her hands together. “Sometimes I see jewels falling from my mouth when I speak.” She smiled radiantly at the Doctor. “Have you heard the story?”
The Doctor nodded. “I did, as a young boy.”
“Did you like it very much?” she asked with a seriousness etched into her features.
“Yes.”
“Good. It’s my story. I lived it before this lady took me to her home.” The girl looked down and began tracing patterns on the bedspread beneath her. “I thought she was kidnapping me, but she hasn’t hurt me yet. I was waiting for the younger prince… but he hasn't come yet.” Her face fell.
The woman embraced her from behind and started crying heavily. The girl began sobbing a short while later.
“Please stop saying that. We love you, we adopted you. You’re safe from all harm now, no one will hurt you!” the woman cried. “You’re safe now!”
“I don’t need the prince anymore?” the girl sobbed, clinging to the woman’s healthy arms tightly.
The woman stopped crying and stroked the girl’s hair. “Your prince will come someday… but for now, you’re our little girl.”
The girl turned and hugged the lady. “I’ll wait for him. I’ll wait in your arms… Mama.”
The Doctor settled back, satisfied. For now, as long as the girl felt secure, she wouldn't imagine a new life anymore… she was free… free from her fairy tales.
He was sitting in his neat yet barren office after closing hours. The lights had been turned off lest the electric company charged extra. Long shadows of entangled branches stretched out on the floor, reflected even more sharply when the lightning flashed nearby. The rumbling sound never frightened the Doctor before, but that day had been no ordinary day.
What made him stay back after closing were the thoughts of an old patient who had come back after many years. His paranoia had risen again, and he came back with an even worse twitch then when he had been in treatment. “I know I’m being followed, Doctor!” he had cried, tears streaming down his frightened face. “People stare at me as if they want to kill me!”
Of course, though, the Doctor often saw people like that. After all, he did specialize in mental disorders and illnesses. And he was quite passionate about it too! After witnessing his mother commit suicide due to depression during his own childhood, he promised himself to never let others suffer as he and his father had.
These old memories, thoughts of his patients and what he could do next to help them, were what kept him back even after his young secretary/assistant notified him of her departure. The mild rain that had been pouring all day had turned to a raging thunderstorm soon as the sun set, followed by lightning and howling winds. Often what snapped him out of his thoughts were the branches that banged against his window so sharply, he worried that the windows would soon break.
He saw the door open a crack through his peripheral view. He sighed deeply and got up to close it when the lightning flashed on pale skin behind the door. Caught off guard, the Doctor pulled open the door with full force and surprised was he to see a young girl standing on the welcome mat, soaked to the bone. She was uncovered from the storm, her drenched cloak clasped tightly in one hand, her other hand held by a medium sized lady, whom the Doctor noticed only after seeing her hand; she had been hiding in the shadows. He stood back and let them through to his office. The girl and her chaperone took a seat on the edge of the long sofa wordlessly. He strode to his desk adjacent to the sofa, and leaned back in his armchair. A little annoyed, he stared at them staring at their feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in a clipped tone. “Did you not see the CLOSED sign at the door?”
“Sir, we… we needed some s-shelter,” the lady stuttered, her silhouette shaking noticeably in the darkness of the room. “The door was unlocked… a-and we actually c-came to s-see you.”
“See me? What for?” The Doctor asked, sitting up straight. Through thoughts of telling his secretary off for not locking up properly, he felt the magnetic waves of a patient in need. He stood up quickly and walked in long strides to his large walk-in closet by the entrance to the office door. He rummaged through and finally found a thick coarse blanket and some towels. He threw the towels to the women, holding the blanket while they dried up. Then he covered them gently with the blanket, tossed the towels under his desk in an empty bin, and again resumed his position in his chair.
The two ladies were silent for a while as they warmed up. When their shivering ceased, the lady stood up and walked a little hesitantly towards the desk. The Doctor waited patiently for the shy lady to speak.
“You see, we’re from a nearby village, and it took us all day to come here,” the lady explained, her tone humble and apologetic. “We meant to get here sooner, but the storm had delayed our trip.”
“I can understand,” the Doctor amended, regretful of his stern behaviour from before. “I can try to help in any way I can. What is your issue at hand?”
“The… the problem isn’t mine, sir—I mean, Doctor. I-it’s… my daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter,” a voice came from the young girl. She was still looking down. The Doctor peered around the mother and looked more carefully at the girl. Her dark long honey blond hair covered her face as she looked down at her feet. Her thin legs looked like pale sticks stuck on little black shoes. Her deep blue dress was quite worn and old. Her thin hands rested on her knees. Overall, she looked very fragile.
The woman looked back at the girl and then quickly back at the Doctor. She gave a hesitating smile before facing the girl again. “No dear, we shouldn’t say such things… what will the nice man think?” The girl did not reply. She did not move.
The Doctor cleared his throat. “I think it would be best if I speak with both of you separately.” He looked pointedly at the lady. She nodded, though she looked somewhat confused, and followed his gesture to wait in the sitting area. She paused at the door, looked at back her daughter, and sighed sadly. The lady quietly closed the door behind her. The Doctor turned to face the girl, and stared hard at her for a long time. Then he got up and dragged a chair towards the sofa.
“What’s your name?” he asked her after he realized that she was not willing to start talking. She did not answer him. “Is that not your real mother?” he tried again. For a while the girl didn’t answer, but as soon as he was about to ask another question, she shook her head. Taken aback, the Doctor stared at the girl. “Where’s your real mother?” he asked quietly.
“She died,” the girl whispered. “She died giving birth to me.” The girl looked up suddenly, looking straight at the Doctor. The Doctor felt shock run through his spine as his eyes met with the young girl’s, as if the lightning had struck him instead of some hundred miles away. Unlike most people’s eyes, even unlike his patient’s eyes, this young girl’s deep blue eyes lacked that light, that shine, which signaled life. They were blank, expressionless… dead. Her face was beautiful for a young girl, full of maturity and wisdom. Her small mouth was full and dark pink. What mesmerized the Doctor was how she lacked the life that people carried in their very posture, but this young odd girl seemed like none he had ever encountered.
“Would you like to hear my story?” she asked quietly. The Doctor snapped out of his analysis of the girl’s physical appearance and switched to his professional mode: to analyze the mind. He nodded curtly, and was soon living in the girl’s world through her words.
﴿ ◦ᵜ◦ ◌ ◦ᵜ◦ ﴾
It had been storming that day as well, when the young girl was born. Complications arose and the midwife quickly took the little girl away from the ailing mother, who, within the hour, passed away. The father wept for three days and three nights, and finally took on the challenge to raise his daughter on his own. The two lived in pure bliss, always together, until one day the girl asked, “Papa, where’s Mama?” and the father realized his daughter was missing someone in her life… someone important.
He married a widow in the village. She came with little luggage and a daughter few years older than his own. Under his watchful eye did the girl grow happily, adjusting to her new mother and sister, though one fateful day he met with an accident and passed away, and the girl’s life changed ultimately. Suddenly her new mother and sister picked on her, hurt her, called her names, and made her work endlessly.
She went to fetch some water from the well one day, smiling as usual, when an old hag came up to her and asked her for a drink of water. The girl gladly obliged and offered her piece of daily bread as well, which she had kept in her apron pocket for lunch.
“You are ever so kind,” the hag said, “and for that I shall reward you.” She waved her wrinkled hand and suddenly the girl felt ill. What kind of a reward is this? She wondered with fear, when suddenly she bent down and threw up… a diamond? A diamond, followed by some pearls and a rose.
“What’s going on?” she cried, and a ruby and some small sapphires slipped through her mouth into her apron pocket. The old hag cackled joyously and marched away, waving. Dazed, the girl walked back home, forgetting all about the water. She bumped into her stepsister, who slapped her shoulder for leaving behind the pail on the hill by the well. When the young girl tried to protest and more gems and flowers slipped from her lips, the stepsister quickly did some calculations and reassured her sister generously, “It’s okay, dear sister. I shall get the water.” And all along she was thinking, maybe the witch will reward me, too… I’m sure it was the local witch, she always dresses as a hag and surprises the villagers.
Waiting for an hour and a half, the stepsister cussed under her breath and towed the pail down the hill towards their home when a handsome young man riding a horse came by. “Excuse me, m’lady, but will you please spare some water for my horse and I, as we are weary from travel.” The stepsister, tired of waiting under the blistering sun, showed her true nature and screamed at the man, “Sure! Have it all!” and splashed the horse and the bewildered man with the pail’s entire contents. The horse disappeared and the man transformed into the beautiful local witch.
“You shall be cursed for your impertinent behaviour. Have you no manners?” The witch raised her hand and suddenly the stepsister felt ill. She heaved and gagged, and bending down, she spewed small toads and snails and snakes. The creepy crawlies slithered through her legs and hid in the grass. Screeching, she ran home to the comfort of her mother’s arms. As she tried to explain her dilemma, the small cottage began to be engulfed by the horrendous creatures that slithered from her mouth. Eventually the stepmother banished her that day, and the girl ran to hide in a cave.
Within the week, news travelled across the land of the girl and her gemmed words, and soon after a greedy prince came looking for her. He swept her away, feigning love to her, and placed her in the royal library. “Read to me, O fair one!” he exclaimed, and sat with a giant cauldron at her feet. After reading a whole third of the library’s contents, the girl’s voice ceased to come out, and her gems and flowers ceased their flow. With every croak came a puny diamond, carrying as much value as a gold doubloon. Enraged, the greedy prince locked the young girl in a dungeon, where she was made to stay until she made diamonds appear again.
The prince’s kind younger brother had been watching the girl the entire time, however, and fell in love with her sweet nature and her innocent voice. Looks didn’t matter to him, but even then he was attracted to her quiet beauty. He slew his greedy brother in a duel, and rescued his true love, and they lived happily ever after.
﴿ ◦ᵜ◦ ◌ ◦ᵜ◦ ﴾
The girl’s voice faded away, and the Doctor awoke from delirium. He shook his head a little, and stared at the girl staring at him. A small spark of life lit her face, but only mildly.
“Th-that’s your life story?” he asked, bewildered. It sounded more like a fairy tale he’d heard as a child.
“Yes,” she said, a little sharply. “Are you questioning my experiences?”
“Of course… not,” the Doctor said, shaking his head for emphasis. “But do tell me, child, why has your mother—”
“She’s not my mother,” the girl enunciated.
“That woman… why did she bring you here?”
“She thinks that I am ill. But the problem is her,” the girl started to shake. Her eyes turned round and a wildness entered their blueness. “She kidnapped me. She doesn’t like the fact that her daughter was cursed and that I was gifted. She’s always hated me. She needs to be restrained. My… my prince, he’s waiting for me.” She stood up, looking at the walls wildly. “Where am I? What is this place?” Her hands shook as she tried to lift them. “No! No! NO!” She started to tremble and screech. She fell to the ground and covered her face. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t lie again! No! Please don’t!” She lay on the ground, curled into a ball, and trembled, whimpering. The Doctor got up swiftly and arranged a desensitizing needle. While he injected the trembling girl in the shoulder, the woman peeked in through the door.
“I… heard her yelling and screaming. Is everything okay?” she asked shyly.
The Doctor looked up quizzically. He finished working on the girl, and carefully placed her on the sofa. “I’ve put her to sleep for a while, she began to hype up… is there anything you would like to tell me?”
“Yes.” She waited and looked at the girl gently, before falling to the chair the Doctor had been occupying. “Doctor sir, my husband and I have adopted her, and it’s been only a few months.” The Doctor took his seat behind his desk. He held up a finger, motioning for the lady to stop for a minute.
“Please,” he added hoarsely to his silent request. He buried his head in his hands, trying to erase the girl’s breakdown from his memory. He got up, walked to his walk-in closet, and prepared two cups of coffee. He handed one to the lady, who had dragged her chair up to his large oak desk, and placed his by his arm after sipping a few. “You may continue.”
“We adopted her, officially some months ago, from an asylum in the next city over. Before us, she had been transferred to many homes. Many abusive; some kind but unable to keep her for personal reasons. We decided to take her in for keeps when we heard her drastic story.” The woman paused, blew at her coffee, and sipped some. “Ah, that hits the cold spot.” She shook her head gratefully.
“Was she orphaned?” the Doctor asked. “She said…”
“Yes, she says often, that she was orphaned, but what we heard was that her mother did not want her. We haven’t been told why, but her real parents used to hit her real hard as a baby. ‘Tis lucky she ain’t been injured in the head! We had her tested,” the woman added. She seemed to warm to the Doctor. She sipped more before continuing. “She was kidnapped by a maid, who couldn’t stand to see her so hurt, and then, as the unmarried maiden had nowhere to hide her, gave her to a friend, who nurtured the child at first, but her drunk husband would always hit her as way of unleashing his own frustration.”
A moment of silence ensued between the two. The dark room continued to be lighted momentarily by lightning. The unconscious girl on the sofa twitched from time to time, as if bad dreams raged inside her head even when she was forced to sleep.
“What happened then?” the Doctor asked. “She doesn’t seem depressed like many of my patients who experience trauma.” It did intrigue him indeed, how the young girl’s mind must be working. But it unnerved him too. She was so different… so special.
“Well, I had heard that one of the few nice families she lived momentarily with had filled her with so much love that she gets confused often,” the woman said, chugging down the rest of her coffee. “Doctor, you brew nice coffee!” She gave him a smile that radiated her face and transformed it to something more pleasant. The worry lines that terrorized her face somehow softened up and gave her a motherly look.
The Doctor couldn’t help but smile back. “Why don’t the two of you stay the night here? It doesn’t seem like the storm will let up any time soon, and it’s very late—” the Doctor looked to the looming grandfather clock in the east corner of his office “—it’s already past eleven o’clock.”
“But… are you saying we stay here alone?” the woman asked hesitantly. Her worry lines reformed again, aging her by decades.
“No,” the Doctor said gently. “You won’t be alone. I live just down the street in one of the shabby apartments. I plan to move upstairs of this office next month, so the bedding is already set.” He picked the girl tenderly from the sofa, and led the way upstairs. Laying her down on his plump bed, he slid her over to make room for the woman. As he lingered in the doorway, he spied the lady caressing the girl’s face and kissing it a couple times softly. Fat tears rolled off her face and splattered across the girl’s thin cheeks. He gave a small sigh and locked the doors tightly before heading home.
All night, he couldn’t sleep a wink: the girl’s unknown problem tainted his memory. Around three o’clock in the morning, he finally sat up, made a mental note to talk to his mentor, and finally slept a little more peacefully.
Bright and early the next day, the Doctor ate his bread and drank his tea quickly and rushed to the asylum across town. He stopped on the cobblestone road in front of the quiet building. It had always unnerved him, this place. Full of life, yet always silent. The patients inside were often considered to be mental, but all they needed was love, encouragement, and a new chance at life.
The Doctor entered the building, the door creaking with every move. He took a deep breath and strode inside. At the receptionist desk he was greeted and asked to wait in the lobby. The receptionist buzzed in whom the Doctor had requested on an old buzzer, and informed the Doctor to wait a moment.
Doctor Peterson walked into the lobby waiting area quietly. He smiled at the Doctor and both exchanged a warm handshake.
“It has been a long time since you walked in here,” Doctor Peterson said with a warm smile. “Only now you came as a professional, not as an assistant. How is your work coming along?”
The two men sat down on the plastic chairs in the lobby. “I have come to ask you for help,” the Doctor said a little timidly. “You see, I encountered a problem last night.”
“I see,” Doctor Peterson said. He ran a hand through his small goatee, scratching under his bottom lip. “What might that be? We can think of a solution together, just like old times.”
“I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s a gut feeling I had when I had been listening to my patient last night.”
“I see.”
“I felt that… when I was listening to my patient, I wasn’t listening to her… but another side of her. What I mean is, it did not seem like she was in her full senses,” the Doctor faltered. He sounded so stupid! But it had made so much sense in his head last night… possibly the hour he had been thinking had gotten the best of him after all.
Doctor Peterson was silent. He was thinking intently. “So what you are trying to say, is that she didn’t seem to be who she claimed to be, or acted out to be?”
“Yes, and no. She wasn’t faking it. She believed in everything she had been telling me as if she had lived it. But what she told me—”
“Ah,” Doctor Peterson interrupted with a kind smile. “Don’t tell me the problem. It’s supposed to be confidential. Never forget that.”
“My apologies. What I meant to say was that the events were remembered in a third person point of view.”
“Story like?”
“Yes. Exactly.” The Doctor nodded quickly.
“I have encountered this once before, and I am not sure if it would apply here as this problem is quite rare. It can come in many forms, I suppose. You may use it to diagnose this patient of yours.” Doctor Peterson continued to stroke his goatee thoughtfully.
“What is it?” the Doctor asked a little excitedly. He felt like a student again, working side by side and learning from the much experienced Doctor Peterson.
The old doctor pulled a worn copy of a diagnosis book from one of his large lab coat pockets. He flipped through and touched upon a page slightly less used than others. “It’s informally referred to as ‘delusional disorder’. By itself it is quite rare, but can be found together with schizophrenia.” Doctor Peterson studied the page at hand more deeply. Then he shut the book with a snap and held it for a minute before handing it to the Doctor. “Page 279.” He smiled warmly.
The Doctor carefully took the book and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Teacher. You have really taught me the best of everything.”
“Good luck,” Doctor Peterson said with a nod. The Doctor exited the building and rushed back across town to his office.
The door was left open once again. The Doctor rushed by his secretary with a quick “Good morning, Natalia. We need a stern talking to later on.” The secretary blushed and ducked her head.
Morning light filtered through the window and on the two ladies still sound asleep in the new apartment. The Doctor stopped at the doorway. He stared intently at the sleeping girl’s serene face, free of the fear she showed the night before. Her chest moved up and down rhythmically. At the sound of his footsteps, the woman stirred and rose slowly. She smiled sleepily at the Doctor and then looked down at her daughter. She stroked her hair aside. Upon the touch the girl awoke. Her eyes popped open immediately at the touch, and swivelled around in their sockets until they rested on the Doctor.
He walked up to the bed slowly, pulled out a wooden stool from beneath the bed, and settled himself by the girl’s side. “Good morning,” he said gently.
“I know you,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “You won’t hurt me… will you?”
“I can only help; I can never hurt beautiful little children.” The Doctor smiled kindly at the girl, and her tense face relaxed.
“Are you going to help me?” she asked in a timid voice
“Do you feel like you need help?” the Doctor asked. He put his hand on his chin, resting his elbow on his knee.
“Sometimes,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think people are out to get me, to kill me. No one likes me.”
“But I love you,” the woman said tenderly. “Your father and I both love you.”
The Doctor looked at the girl, watching her expressions. Her face contorted at first, but then broke down into an exhausted frown. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”
“No?” It was more of a question, probing the Doctor to explain himself.
“You told me a fairy tale. And you said it happened to you.”
“I… I did?” the girl looked confused, trying to remember last night’s events. “Which one? I know many fairy tales, but only some appeal to me.”
“Why do they appeal to you?”
“I feel like they happened to me. I can relate to the princesses.”
“Why?”
“Because they always are hurt from the time they are born. No one but Prince Charming ever wants them…”
“Which one is your favourite?” The Doctor felt like he was closing in on the mystery of this girl. His Teacher was right, she was delusional: she had imagined herself to be the princesses to escape the cruelty of reality. The momentary pain of being unwanted followed by true everlasting love always outshone and overrode the reality of abuse and neglect, especially in severe cases such as hers.
“I like a lot of them. Cinderella is a nice one, but I love Toads and Diamonds. I love the idea of the girl being able to spit out jewels. Isn’t it a fantastic idea?” the girl cried happily, sitting up abruptly and clapping her hands together. “Sometimes I see jewels falling from my mouth when I speak.” She smiled radiantly at the Doctor. “Have you heard the story?”
The Doctor nodded. “I did, as a young boy.”
“Did you like it very much?” she asked with a seriousness etched into her features.
“Yes.”
“Good. It’s my story. I lived it before this lady took me to her home.” The girl looked down and began tracing patterns on the bedspread beneath her. “I thought she was kidnapping me, but she hasn’t hurt me yet. I was waiting for the younger prince… but he hasn't come yet.” Her face fell.
The woman embraced her from behind and started crying heavily. The girl began sobbing a short while later.
“Please stop saying that. We love you, we adopted you. You’re safe from all harm now, no one will hurt you!” the woman cried. “You’re safe now!”
“I don’t need the prince anymore?” the girl sobbed, clinging to the woman’s healthy arms tightly.
The woman stopped crying and stroked the girl’s hair. “Your prince will come someday… but for now, you’re our little girl.”
The girl turned and hugged the lady. “I’ll wait for him. I’ll wait in your arms… Mama.”
The Doctor settled back, satisfied. For now, as long as the girl felt secure, she wouldn't imagine a new life anymore… she was free… free from her fairy tales.