Inconsistencies
Darren:
Even if Darren Michelson hadnât been completely engrossed in his patientsâ files, he still would not have noticed the sudden drop in temperature in his new office. If October was around, she would have been able to detect it instantly, but since she was tucked in bed in her room on the other side of the building, the young doctor had no idea that he wasnât alone.
The thermometer nailed to the wall indicated that the temperature was well below its original mark; but the doctor remained oblivious to anything other than the inconsistencies he found in Parish Feltmanâs file.
âIt doesnât make any sense.â The young man mumbled in frustration. Sighing heavily, he flipped through the pages for the fifth time that night; trying, and failing, to find a small piece of evidence that would help him make sense of what was going on.
Parish Feltman had been diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder when he was only thirteen years old, but he only seemed to be showing a couple of the symptoms of the disease. Darren didnât know whether to be angry or troubled. Either the boy had been severely misdiagnosed or had developed a rare disease that his doctors were too lazy to research thoroughly and diagnose properly.
He could see why no one would be too keen to spend much time with the boy, though. During the half hour heâd spent with Parish trying to get to know him, it had taken Darren only five minutes to realize that the boy wasnât going to be the easiest person to get along with.
Still, he thought, thatâs no excuse for not diagnosing the boy properly.
With a grunt of frustration, Darren slammed Parishâs folder shut and sent it flying over to the other side of the desk. He rubbed his temples together, feeling a small headache coming on.
At twenty-five, Darren was one of the most dedicated, hardworking Doctors the Board had ever seen, so it was no wonder that, when Pauline Larkson called in requesting a hand with a Schizophrenic girl and a very disturbed boy with an MPD, Darren Michelson was the first person they thought of.
Opening his eyes wearily, he reached over and picked up the other patient folder on his desk. Octoberâs folder was considerably thinner and much lighter than Parishâs â understandably so, considering the fact that sheâd never gotten into fist fights with her principal. But it was just as troubling.
The girl had just been diagnosed with Schizophrenia, something which, Darren was sure, she definitely did not have. He had met the girl a few hours ago and she had actually seemedâ¦normal. Yes, sheâd been a little hostile, but that was expected. She was a seventeen year-old girl locked up in a houseful of unstable kids, being forced to believe she had a dangerous disease.
He studied the small photograph that was stapled to the first page of Octoberâs file. It was a fairly recent one, probably taken only about a few months ago. She was wearing a dark blue, knee-length dress that completely complimented her fair tone of her skin.
Her dark brown hair flowed loosely around her shoulders in neat little waves, framing her heart shaped face and her big hazel eyes shone brightly, smiling.
A cold breeze crept up Darrenâs arm and he shuddered, snapping out of the daze he had slipped into. Mentally chastising himself for taking a little too much interest in Octoberâs photograph than was necessary, he flipped the page over and started going through Doctor Larksonâs notes.
âOctober Grimmes,â she wrote, âseems like a healthy, happy regular teenage girl on the surface. At first I believed that her parents made a mistake by committing her, but after a few therapy sessions with the girl, it became clear that she is extremely troubled. Before she was brought here to Abercosterâs Institute, Octoberâs ambition was to become a criminal psychologist and work for the FBI. After studying her for a while, I fear that she may have lost all interest in pursuing that dream anymore, though I am not one hundred percent certain.
Diagnosing October has proved to be an extremely challenging task since the only symptoms she seems to be experiencing are the wild hallucinations. She is, for the most part, a very difficult person to read. She tends to shut herself out from everyone else and bottle up all her feelings. It is possible that Octoberâs distrustfulness is a result of the fact that her parents brought her here to the Institute. She feels betrayed and hurt.
I have spent almost two months with October, trying to find out the reasons for her wild hallucinations and her tendency to converse with herself sometimes, and there is no doubt in my mind that the accident she witnessed when she was nine years old has clearly had a dangerous effect on her sanity.
The girl sees flashes of the accident in her dreams and has confessed to hearing her deceased auntâs and uncleâs voices at timesâ¦â
Darren shut the file and pushed it away from him in disgust. Yesterday, he had been in complete awe of Doctor Pauline Larkson. He had read every single book sheâd written, attended every seminar that sheâd spoken at and he had been over the moon with joy when he found out that he would be working with her â heâd been her number one fan. But now all he wanted to do was march over to her office and rip that report into shreds, right under her nose.
He couldnât even get through the rest of her report. It was filled with so much nonsense about Octoberâs past and nothing about her present. Doctor Larkson had used a tragic incident in Octoberâs past and turned it into the reason for everything the poor girl went through.
October talks in her sleep? Itâs because of the incident. October bursts into hysterics? Itâs because of the incident. October has disturbing nightmares? Itâs because of the incident.
It was no wonder the girl was so hostile. These people werenât trying to help her, they were just spinning lies to save their reputation at her expense.
He let his weary head drop down to the table lay there for a few minutes, thinking. Parish Feltman and October Grimmes couldnât be more different and yet, they were both facing the same problem. Theyâd been misdiagnosed by doctors who were too lazy to study them and find out what was really wrong with them.
Hell, there was even a possibility that there was nothing wrong with them. They were probably just two adolescents who happened to be a little different than most other children their age. There was nothing wrong with being different, right? Darren hadnât been like most of his peers when heâd been a teenager either. When all his friends were out partying with girls, getting drunk and getting into trouble, heâd been perfectly content with sitting at home alone and watching crime shows.
His parents had thought he was antisocial. What other explanation could there have been? He didnât have any friends. He hated company. The only people he spoke to were his parents and even that was rare. There had to be something wrong with him, right?
Darren lifted his head up from the desk and grunted. His parents hadnât understood him. The only person whoâs ever believed that there was nothing wrong with him was his older sister Tracey.
Heâd been able to confide in her, talk to her⦠Tracey hadnât made him uneasy like everyone else had. Sheâd understood that he was different and she had never, ever judged him for it.
If only I had stayed home that night, Darren thought woefully. She wouldnât have driven out in the middle of the night looking for me. She wouldnât have gotten into that crash. She would still be aliveâ¦
He slammed his fist against the top of the desk. Everyone had told him that blaming himself wouldnât help anything. It wouldnât bring Tracey back. But how could he not blame himself? Especially since heâd escaped the crash with barely even a scratch.
âIt should have been me.â Darren repeated the words he must have said over a hundred times since the accident. Tracey should be the one sitting here right now. Not me.
Pushing his own personal thoughts from his mind, he reached for Parishâs and Octoberâs files once more, grabbing a pencil from the pen holder on his desk. As he scribbled away furiously on his notepad, he was suddenly aware of how hot it was.
Instinctively, he glanced at the thermometer on the wall. It was the same as it had been when he first entered the room. Nothing had changed. But why did it feel so hot?
Shaking his head, Darren turned his attention back to the two open files on his desk, completely oblivious to the fact that the voices that had just left the room were filling the corridor with whispers.
Whispers about him.
__________________________
Hey there people. So as you all probably noticed, this chapter is in the third person. As I may have mentioned before, there are three narrators in this book, and only October will narrate in the first person. When the point of view switches over to Parish's and Darren's the narration changes to the third person.
The narrator is indicated just under the chapter title - and when it isn't, it means that the person who narrated in the previous chapter is still continuing. Got it guys?
I really hope that this isn't confusing... Let me know if it is, okay?