Stone Cold Crazy
by Janilou
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Science Fiction Short Story. A doctor interviews a patient in a psychiatric
ward.
The original posting can be found in my portfolio at this link:
http://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=168695
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"Hell found me. That's what happened next," Cynthia said, brown eyes filled with tears as she wiped
a trembling hand across the worn arm of the sofa.
Leaning back in my chair, I balanced my notepad across my knee and waited.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Snatching up the baby doll she'd carried everywhere since
admission, she tilted her head. "Did I pass the test? Can I leave?"
"This isn't a test, and, of course I believe you, Cynthia. Your injuries were quite severe when the
police found you by the river. You were reluctant to even tell us your name. You have serious
issues with trust and I understand that."
Cynthia's eyes darted past me to the window behind my desk. "He could be watching me right now
and you wouldn't even know it."
"By 'he' you mean your husband, correct?" I watched a shudder flow through her body like a ripple
on a pond.
"Don't call him my husband," she hissed, glaring at me. "He's not the man I married. He's a monster."
"He's changed over the years. Many people experience that in a marriage."
"No! Duh!" She tossed another scathing look in my direction. "He isn't the same person. Not
figuratively. Literally! I woke up one morning, and my husband was gone. This creature took his
place."
I glanced at my watch. Ten- fifteen. Thank God this session is nearly over. "We're trying to help
you, Cynthia. Do you recall last week when the police brought you in?"
Her eyes glazed over as she ignored my question and stared at the window. "You don't understand
his power, do you? He beat me half to death for trying to leave the first time. He will find me, and
when he does, he'll kill you." Shuddering again, she shrugged, as though resigning herself to my
demise.
"You told us your husband beat you, yet your wounds were self-inflicted."
"I had to get away somehow. Stop you morons from contacting him long enough to make my move."
I jotted down some notes, nodding. "I'm listening. I don't agree with the omnipotent power you
attribute to your hus-, I mean this man claiming to be your husband, but I do understand the fear is
very real to you." Still suffering from irrational thoughts, delusions. Denying she is married again.
Suggest adjusting dose of anti-psychotic meds.
"How long have you worked here, Doctor Alex?"
I met her gaze. "I've been with the unit for two years now."
"I miss my baby," she whispered as she looked at the doll. "This is all I have left of her."
"Cynthia, according to your records, you never had children."
"It's a lie! A filthy lie!" She shook the doll. "Look what he did! This is all I have left of my child!"
"He turned your daughter into a toy?"
Leaning her head back, she looked at the ceiling. "God help me. You people are crazier than you
think I am! No. He killed her! She was not of childbearing age, therefore useless to his kind, the
murdering bastards. I always promised my daughter I'd protect her from anything. She died
screaming for me. I told you a few minutes ago. That was when hell found me." Tears welled in her
eyes as she sucked in her breath and cradled the doll.
"Cynthia, listen to me. We've checked every medical record you have on file. You never had a
child. Your ovaries were removed when you were in your early twenties due to ovarian cancer.
Don't you remember?"
"Don't you remember?" she mocked. "Don't you have a brain? They changed the records. Can't
have anyone knowing they're going around murdering people now, can they?"
"Your family denies you ever had children. We believe you have a deep-seated desire to have
given birth and raised a child. It is understandable. The mind is a very powerful persuader. More so
than many people think. You wanted children so your mind created those memories for you."
Tucking the doll under one arm, she stood and paced the floor. "My family is all gone! Taken over.
You'll see the truth soon enough. He has the tracking ability of a bloodhound. It must have rained
hard the day you brought me in. Otherwise, he'd have found me here already."
Leaning forward, I smiled. "That's the first accurate memory you've had of the day we found you. It
was raining. Do you recall anything else?"
"Recall it? I could give you a blow-by-blow description if you like. Hope you didn't eat recently."
"There's nothing you can tell me I haven't heard before."
Smirking, my patient tossed her head. "I doubt that."
"Why would you doubt it?"
"Because you've never dealt with aliens before."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Cynthia."
"Call me Gloria."
"Gloria?"
"Yes, I don't want him picking up on your brain waves. You are using my name too often."
"All right, Gloria. How about you tell me everything you remember about the day of the attack."
She swayed and sank back down on the couch. Covering her eyes, she wept.
I waited. My intercom beeped – the session time was almost over. "I'm sorry, Cynth-, I mean, Gloria.
Our time is almost up. Can we meet again this afternoon? Maybe you will be ready to talk about it
then. I need to tell you we did contact your husband. He's coming in to see you later today."
The look on her face rivaled any horror movie I'd ever seen.
"He's not my husband, you idiot. He's the alien who murdered my husband and invaded his body.
Their body temperature is much lower than us humans; that's how I knew as soon as he touched
me the first time. His skin was stone cold. They're invading the planet, one country at a time. He
wanted to impregnate me. I fought him and ran. He dragged me back inside and tied me up for two
days. Then I got smart. I waited, learned more about them. They hate the rain. Slows them down.
That's why he hasn't come for me yet."
Pausing, she looked around. "Do you have a smoke?"
"No, I don't smoke. In any case, this is a non-smoking facility. We don't allow our patients to have
cigarettes or matches."
She laughed. "Afraid your crazies will burn the place down, huh? In a few more weeks, all of your
patients will be dead. I suggest you take up smoking. Those stupid aliens can't stand cigarette
smoke either. They have little tolerance for any kind of illness or disease. They want healthy people
for their experiments. My best friend, Delores, found out the hard way. She told her new husband
about her depression. Thought it would be an excuse not to have babies."
Whump!
She slammed her hand down hard on the couch and laughed, even as tears streamed down her
cheeks.
"He killed her. Flattened her! Depression indeed! God forgive me, it's not funny but I can't help it."
"You find your friend's death amusing?"
"You really ought to go back to medical school, Alex. Haven't you ever heard of black humor? She
was my closest friend, but she got out of it easily. She's dead. We're the ones still living in this hell.
They're taking over the entire damn planet. Tell me, do you and your wife have any children?"
"No, we don't. My wife is a career woman. She is working on her PhD in biophysics."
"I'm so sorry," Cynthia said, wiping her tears away.
Frowning, I decided to end the session. We aren't making any progress and now she's trying to turn
the focus onto me. "We're done for now. I'll stop in later today to see you before I go home."
"They want to make half-breed babies. They're suffering unexpected side-effects on this planet and
they can't function fully. Cold-blooded bastards."
"Our time is up, Cynthia," I reiterated, refusing to accommodate her delusions any further.
"Your wife is the perfect candidate for a takeover," she added, as she walked to the door. "As for
me, I won't be here this afternoon. I'm going to escape before you idiots lead him right to me."
"The unit doors are locked. You can't leave until our senior psychiatrist gives you the okay."
"You don't say." Shrugging her shoulders, she walked out of my office.
I heard one of the male nurses asking her if she wanted to attend the group session, but my door
swung shut before she replied.
Snapping her folder shut, I swung around and faced my desk. A sad case.
Knock, knock.
"Come in," I said, turning in time to see my colleague enter the room. "Hey, Phil, how goes it?"
"Not bad. How did the session with Cynthia go?"
"Got nowhere. For a moment, I thought we were making progress, but then, nothing. Did her
husband call today?"
"The nurses said he called before he went to work this morning. He'll still be stopping by this
afternoon, even though she probably won't agree to see him, poor man. Is she still accusing him of
beating her?"
"Gets better. Now she claims her best friend, Delores, is dead."
Phil pursed his lips. "Self-inflicted injuries, yet she claims abuse. Now murder? Her husband?"
"Nope, Dolores's own husband, sorry, Dolores's-husband-taken-over-by-an-alien. I think you'd
better adjust her medication, Phil. She's getting worse every time I talk to her. She's falling deeper
into her psychosis now."
"You got it. Hey, whatcha you doing for lunch today?"
"Kathy and I are meeting at the club. They canceled her last morning class. Man, I tell you, we
never get to see each other much anymore now that she's doing this extra degree."
"Whiner! Think of your future! Paris! Italy! She's going to land that researcher's position, and the
two of you will be making out all over Europe, while Sue and I are stuck here in the good ol' USA
raising our kids." Phil straightened a book in my overhead book shelf. "Hmmm. This one looks
interesting. Introduction to Alien Psychology, by Alex Baldwin and Cynthia Cross."
I scrunched up a wad of paper and tossed it at Phil. "Shut up! I'll make sure Cynthia's on your
roster next month!"
"You don't listen to your patients very well, do you? I distinctly heard her telling you she was
escaping today."
"Yeah, right. I'll bet a steak dinner on that one."
"You're on. See you later, buddy."
The next hour flew by while I recorded the pertinent details of my session with Cynthia. Scribbling
my signature across the bottom of the last page, I shoved the file in my drawer and turned the key,
before leaving my office to meet my wife for lunch.
On the way through the hall, I saw Cynthia's primary care nurse. "Hey, Trish. Is Cynthia doing okay
after our session this morning? She got herself pretty worked up."
Confusion swept across Trish's face. "She seemed fine. Why did you give her a day-pass if you
thought she was upset?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" I grabbed the folder she held and flipped it open. There it
was, a day leave permission slip signed with my signature, but in Phil's handwriting.
"Son of a bitch!" I exclaimed. "Where the hell is Phil?"
"He followed Cynthia out," Trish stammered. "Alex, I didn't, I mean, I should have. . ."
"It's not your fault."
"Maybe Phil thought the walk through the park would calm her down."
"They took a group of patients out?"
"Yes, it's Thursday, remember?"
Relief swept over me. I'll get you back for this, Phil, my boy. You just about gave me a heart attack.
"So, two staff nurses went with them as well?"
"Of course!"
Patting Trish on the shoulder, I smiled. "I'm going to lunch. I'll have my pager switched on if you
need me."
As my wife walked across the club room, I watched the other men in the club trying not to stare at
her curves and the long blond hair flowing around her shoulders like a cascading waterfall. Mmm,
she does look good and she's all mine. Eat your heart out, boys.
Kathy flashed me a warm smile as she reached our table. "Feels good to sit down. Busy day, baby?"
"Not too bad. Just the usual alien tale or two."
Her eyes widened. "Crazy Cynthia again?"
My brow furrowed slightly. "Shh. We're in a public place."
"Sorry, honey. Phil called my mobile." She giggled. "Said to ask when you wanted to make the
reservations for a steak dinner?"
I laughed as I beckoned the waiter. "Call him back. Tell him cheating doesn't count."
Kathy leaned across the table, and placed her hand over mine. "Later. There's something I want to
discuss. I want to start a family. Tonight."
At least that's what I think she said. I didn't hear the last half of her sentence clearly because I was
too busy staring at her hand and the burning sensation prickling through my entire body.
Her touch was stone cold.