FFF: A doctor's feelings

It's been a while since I've done some flash fiction but I was oddly inspired today. As always, I appreciate feedback.

---


When I first started treating Fabian I'd been told he had amnesia due to a head injury. It took a while for it to become clear that his head injury hadn't affected his brain and that the memory loss was down to something else. I tried to delve into his dreams to get a better understanding of what his subconscious had done with those memories but the dreams were disturbing and twisted. They couldn't be memories, they were too fantastical but they did give an insight into how his mind was projecting terrible thoughts as a way of dealing with whatever trauma he'd been through.

Now that the hallucinations have come to light I suspect his illness is more along the lines of PTSD. Although, without any knowledge of his background I can't be sure. I think he's beginning to remember more and more but he's not talking about it. I feel we have become friends but now he seems more closed off. I think he thinks he can get away with not talking to me now. He completely closes down and now that he has a job, there are times were I barely see him. He gets out of our sessions because he says he has to work.

I didn't want to push him at first because I know that he struggles to talk to me. He still feels like I am going to judge him. He doesn't realise that talking about what is going on in his head is a way to exorcise it. When he was forced to talk to me it helped.

I am fond of him and I think letting him move into my house may have been a mistake. He sees us as friends. The doctor/patient relationship doesn't seem to apply, in his eyes, any more.

I probably was quite ignorant to how he'd react to this new found freedom. He's doing well and, in most ways, he is coping. He's fantastic at his job, he has colleagues who love him and he has a social life. However, there are small areas of his life where he still struggles. He can't be on his own and if he is then he seeks attention. His reaction to authority figures is getting better but he's had more than one run in with his boss and there have been multiple times where he's ended up screaming at me.

The search still continues for his identity. His name brings up nothing and we can't get anything from the tattoo on his shoulder. I first thought it might be a prisoner's number, it had that sort of format. Firstly, though, who would tattoo their prisoners in such a way? And secondly, it doesn't match up with any prison   in the world. At least not one with records. It could be the number is something to do with slave trading, which would explain a lot, but something tells me that's not the case. He's not submissive, he's not weak. His memory loss might make him very different to his former self but I can't imagine him being forced into servitude by anyone.

I do think my relationship with Fabian has become a little inappropriate. I'm trying to keep my distance from him and let him get on with his life, job and new friends. I'm there as his doctor and only that. We became too close and I think that began to affect his treatment. I'm tempted to refer him to another doctor, it would be the best course of action for his treatment but I can't help but feel he needs me.

Perhaps I should speak to him directly about me continuing his treatment. The fact that the hallucinations are getting so violent that he is hurting himself is worrying enough but the fact that he won't talk to me about any of it makes me wonder if he'd speak to another doctor.

As far as I'm aware, he's keeping most of this from his colleagues. He's just said he doesn't remember who he is and gives no reason for it. I wondering if the memories are coming back and he's struggling to deal with them. They're manifesting themselves as horrific hallucinations.

I was only present for one, the rest have been while Fabian has been on his own. The one I witnessed was violent, Fabian was thrashing out as if attacking some unseen assailant. It was a glimpse into how he was feeling and it terrified me. I should've been calm and collected about the whole thing but I was worried for Fabian's safety. It's starting to hurt me just to think what he's going through and I hate that I can't be objective anymore. I care about him and I want him to get better but because of that I'm struggling to help him.

Indulge in a 10k day once in a while

If I'm feeling a bit lost for inspiration or feel I haven't written much in a while then I will set aside a day to get a shit load of writing done.

A whole day dedicated just to churning out a lot of words with no thoughts to editing. Just words that will kick start the muse and move the story along.

A few Mondays ago I did just that. I'd intended to work on Frankie's story but when I sat down to actually write I had no inspiration.

What was inspiring me, however, was Forgotten (working title), a piece about a gentleman named Fabian who wakes up in the middle of London with no idea who he is. He's taken in by a rather dashing doctor who helps him get back on his feet. But as Fabian's memories start to return, he realises that he doesn't quite belong and that remembering who he is might not be the best thing for him or those he cares about.

I took at 17k story up to 24k. I didn't quite hit my 10k target but I got loads done and fuelled my passion for writing all over again. Since then I haven't been able to stop!


Do you ever set aside days to just write fuck loads of words? If so what's the most you've ever achieved?

Fiction Friday: I miss my best friend

As part of Write Anything's Fiction Friday I've decided to introduce you to Fabian and his futuristic pinings for a certain doctor (no, not that Doctor). The prompt is 'I miss my best friend'. Again, first person. All my writing is usually in third and yet I get my flash on and it's all first. Oh well, enjoy. (Prepare for some tense fail. I hate first person.)

#

I paused outside the casino and wondered if I should pop in. It was glittering at me and I could hear the soft trill of all the machines inside. There were people I liked in there and there were exciting things like cards, chips and money. But it was too close to home, my former work mates would gossip and eventually it would get back to Rae. I didn't want him to know I'd been here.

With a weary sigh I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and continued on. I missed Rae so much. It was a heart-wrenching ache that left me feeling empty but there was no way he would ever accept me back into his life.

He'd worked so hard to look after me when I had no idea who I was. He'd grown to be my best friend and the only person I thought I could trust. I understood why he wanted to stop being my doctor and pass me off to Dr. Morgan but I thought I could trust him when the memories did surface. I always knew they would be bad, that I'd be distressed and terrified of my own past. But I'd never expected him to kick me out after learning what I'd done.

I think it was my lack of remorse that threw him.

With these memories I'm a different person. I can see how I was when I knew nothing but him, his house, that stupid cat and the casino. I was happy, carefree and without the weight of such torment resting on my shoulders.

Shooting someone didn't bother me. I knew I was right doing what I did. Rae, of course, didn't think so. Regardless of the situation, to him, killing someone was wrong.

The killing didn't bother me. It was what followed that mentally scarred me. I was once again looking over my shoulder, despite the fact I was in a much safer world that had a much lower concentration of evil robots, rape gangs and temporal earthquakes.

Rae was never going to forgive me and that broke my heart.