"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Moody?"
Here we go; thought Dean. Couldn't they have just thrown him in jail?
"Court order" He replied curtly, not bothering to look up.
And why would he look up? He was there against his will, and he was determined to be as petty as possible. They could only force him to physically be there, but they'd never be able force his mind to cooperate. Mentally, he was humming the guitar solo from Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird... and having such a great time doing it that he found it difficult not to bob his head or air guitar it.
Halfway through the solo -which must have been around the 40 second mark- the doctor spoke.
"Fair enough. I know you're here against your will, but there's nothing either of us can do about it, since this is indeed a court order... so what do you say we actually have a conversation?"
Dr. Snow was a stereotype; tweed jacket, beard, glasses, clipboard and pen, certificates on the wall, calm and composed demeanor, minty breath, the whole nine yards... but what Dean found the most intriguing was the striking resemblance he bore to Dr. James Wilson from House M.D, a TV series he used to watch in his youth. He made a mental note to save the jab for when the doctor got too invasive.
"What can I say, doc? It's just something about handcuffs that makes me less talkative... but it does make me frisky as hell, you kinky beast" He replied with a sly wink.
Dr. Snow showed no signs of annoyance at his comment. Instead, he responded by opening a folder on his side table.
"I find your background very interesting, Dean. May I call you Dean?" He asked, pausing to keenly watch his response.
"Baby, I think we're way past “Dean”... but I don’t care how "interesting" you think my "background" is; I'm not into assplay " Dean replied, holding his gaze.
Dr. Snow continued as if he'd replied with a simple "yes".
"You've had a lot of run-ins with the law, Dean... almost too many for a man in his mid-twenties. Arson; burglary; blackmail; vandalism" He listed absently, vaguely gesturing towards the folder. "And now armed robbery... you've done it all".
"Yeah? Does that turn you on? I could tell you were into bad boys the minute I walked in"
Surprisingly, Dr. Snow smiled. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?" He asked pointedly.
"I'm hard to get; if you want this sweet ass, you're going to have to work for it" Dean replied inconsequentially.
"Homoerotic undertones aside, what interest me the most aren't your crimes... see, I've met a lot of scumbags in my line of work, Dean... but you don't strike me as one" He said, leafing through the pages of his folder.
"Careful, doc... all this sweet talk is making me wet" Replied Dean, moaning and rubbing his groin with his cuffed hands as a girl would rub her clitoris. He was rewarded with a quick flash of anger he would have missed if he'd blinked.
"Yeah, you're not a scumbag... I have your SAT scores here; you could have got into pre-med if you'd wanted... you were a grade A student up until high school; all your teachers agree"
"I was a nerdy kid, so what?" Dean asked defensively.
"Not only were you academically successful, but I can see here that you've done a lot of volunteer work, and none of it was court-ordered... moreover, I've looked into your record, and all of your crimes were either due to poor anger management, or petty theft in order to support your family in times of trouble. Is that correct?" The doctor asked.
Dean averted his gaze and took an interest in a bird nesting on a branch outside the window.
"I thought so. And that's why instead of standing idly by and watching your partner shoot that old woman, you took a bullet for her and landed yourself in a coma for weeks... I ask you, are these the actions of a deranged lunatic and a threat to society?"
Anger flashed in Dean's eyes.
"Robbie should never have tried to shoot that old lady. That wasn't part of the plan. It was supposed to be a clean operation, in and out; no blood and no fuss... but he panicked and shot at her, and I couldn't let her die" Dean wasn't sure how he'd survived getting shot in the chest at such a close range, and he still cursed Robbie for being such an amateur.
"Exactly my point. Even your hobbies; all I had to do was open your Facebook page... you're into poetry, music, weight-lifting, skiing-"
"Long, romantic walks on the beach with your mom" Interjected Dean.
For the second time, Dean saw a flicker of anger on Dr. Snow's calm face. He was getting somewhere.
"I have yet to meet a single person who has more than 2 solitary hobbies who isn't trying to hide from something or run away from his demons. You obviously aren't the hardened criminal you would have me believe... so what happened to you? Why are you acting out?"
"Oh I'm definitely "hardened"... touch it if you don't believe me" Dean replied with another hostile wink.
"I know there's a good person inside you somewhere, Dean... and that's why when the DA sent your partner to jail, he didn't send you too... you're a good person on some level; you have to see that!" Snow gestured wildly. Dean was finally getting on his nerves.
"I can assure you there's no one inside me, doc, but who knows... if you play your cards right, maybe there will be inside you"
"What was your childhood like?" Asked Dr. Snow. Dean could almost swear his voice was shaking now. "Did your mother hug you much?"
"Yours did a lot more than that" Replied Dean with a ruthless laugh.
... and in the blink of an eye; before Dean could even process it, he was pinned against the wall.
In one fluid motion, the doctor who was seconds ago calmly trying to find a weak spot in his armor was suddenly red in the face, panting with rage, with a blade in his hand fixed under Dean's neck. Dean felt the first pangs of doubt and fear... what was going on?
"Oh baby, you know I like it rough" Oh well... as last words go, that wasn't so bad.
Dr. Snow just stood there, pinning him to the wall and angrily staring him down with all the hostility in the world radiating from his eyes.
"What, you want to call out to your parole officer? Trust me, he doesn't get paid enough to care... and even if he does, the door's locked. Are you a betting man, Dean? Because I bet you I could tear out your throat before he gets to you... and trust me, I know where to cut" for emphasis, Dr. Snow pressed his knife up against Dean's neck, drawing blood.
Dean couldn't figure out why Dr. Snow had suddenly turned into a blood-thirsty psycho... and what's more, he had no idea what his endgame might be... but the anger he saw in his eyes was real, and it was personal; it was the kind of anger you had for someone very close to you who disappointed you in a significant way. Something was very very wrong.
"What is this; good shrink, bad shrink? What do you want from me?" Asked Dean, his mind racing.
"I want you to talk." Dr. Snow spat. "I want you to drop the whole smart-ass, macho act and just talk. If I'm satisfied with what you say, I'll let you live. Does that sound good?" He stared at him imploringly.
"Why are you doing this?" Dean asked, curious in spite of himself.
"I'll tell you everything in good time, but you have to let me help you first... please." He eased his grip on Dean, but the knife stayed where it was.
Dean was just about to tell him to blow it out his ass, but the way the doctor was looking at him gave him pause... this was definitely personal for him, and he had to find out why. Besides, he could see anger in his eyes, but no hate. His gut feeling was that the doctor meant him well... or at least thought he did.
"Fine... you win, you bastard. Let me go and I'll tell you what you want to know" Replied Dean, defeated.
Dr. Snow let him go... and in the blink of an eye he was back in his chair, looking as sharp and calm as ever, as if nothing had happened. Dean dragged himself back to the stereotypical psychiatrist's couch, and lay on his back. Dr. Snow wrote something on his clipboard, which Dean imagined was a check mark next to "Break patient" on his to-do list, and he returned to his line of questioning.
"Tell me about your childhood"
"I was a nerd. I was bullied a lot... and no matter how good my grades were, my parents always expected better... so I eventually gave up, and I decided to live my life in highschool... but that's when my grandma got sick and I started trying to make money to pay for her chemo because my parents didn't earn enough... and it wasn't always legal. There, is that good enough for you?" He asked bitterly.
"You attempted suicide at age 17?"
"Yes... that's when the cancer finally killed her... and while I was struggling with her death, I met a girl who made everything better. She was there for me when no one else was, and she's the biggest reason why I got through it... but then she left me. She left me, broken and in pain, and that's when I realized that I was alone... so very alone. Everyone left; grandma died and my girlfriend left me, so I decided to kill myself."
"Except you didn't do a very good job of it, did you?" Dr. Snow replied scornfully.
"No, I didn't; my dad saved me, right on time... but anyway, that was way back then; I was a kid. I'm never going to kill myself; that's the easy way out. I have people who look up to me and depend on me... taking my life would be a slap to their faces."
"I must say, I agree. Suicide is never the answer." commented Dr. Snow. "Did you get involved in any other romantic relationships since then?"
"I did... but they all ended the same way. They never stay; it's like I'm cursed or something... but I've learned to be alone a long time ago; it's the only thing I know now" Realizing he'd said too much, Dean's voice trailed off and he stopped talking.
Dr. Snow allowed him a few seconds of silence, then piped up again.
"You mentioned people who look up to you; care to elaborate?"
"Yes; my little sister... she idolizes me. I'm her role model; her protection and her support. She needs someone to look up to; and someone to be there for her whenever she gets herself into trouble as she always does. There's nothing I wouldn't do for that kid; I'd die for her. Worse; I'd live for her."
"I see."
Dr. Snow arranged his folder and made some more marks on his clipboard.
"Let's talk about your mom" Said Dr. Snow, again watching his reaction closely.
"What about her?" Dean asked, starting to get angry again.
"Just tell me about her, please" Said Dr. Snow patiently.
"She's an amazing woman. A very simple woman... with her, what you see is what you get . You don't have to think about subtext... and she's always supported me and been there for me... never expected any more than I could give. She understands me; the real me. I don't have to justify my actions or change who I am for her to love me or to be proud of me"
"As opposed to your dad?" Dr. Snow asked shrewdly.
"Don't you say one word about my dad, you son of a bitch. My dad is a great man... he is always there for us; even when things got rough, he never left... his whole life, he fought tooth and nail to provide for us; give us a better life than his parents gave him... and we've always leaned on him; put more pressure on him than anyone can bear, and he's always taken it without complaint... even at the age when he should start going soft. No matter how bad things got, even when his mother was dying slowly of cancer, he never showed any signs of weakness or pain. He's unshakable; a solid rock... I will never be half the man he is"
"And how do you think he feels about you?"
"Alright, that's it. I'm not going to answer any more questions" Dean said, fighting to control his anger. "I don't see how any of this is relevant to my crime. Just let me go already; we're way past one hour anyways... where's my officer?" It made no sense that the session was allowed to go on for so long.
"Why did you save that woman, Dean? If you aren't suicidal, why did you do it?" His eyes beseeched him; begged him for an answer.
"I just did, OK? Let me out of here" The look in Dr. Snow's eyes was starting to worry him.
"I asked you a question" Dr. Snow said firmly.
"I gave you an answer" Replied Dean, holding his ground.
"WHY DO YOU WANT TO GIVE YOUR LIFE AWAY?" Yelled Dr. Snow.
Dean was at his breaking point. It all came out in a burst.
"BECAUSE I DON'T CARE WHETHER I LIVE OR DIE, ALRIGHT? BECAUSE I'M WORTHLESS AND MY LIFE HAS NO VALUE! WHY'S THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND? I'M CONSTANTLY TRAPPED INSIDE MY OWN HEAD, MAN! THE DOUBTS, THE FEARS, THE SADNESS, THE ANGST, THE SELF-PITY, THE SELF-HATE, THE VOICES, THE FUCKING VOICES, ALWAYS TELLING ME THAT I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH; THAT I'M NEVER GOOD ENOUGH AND THAT I'LL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH... THAT I ALWAYS LET DOWN THOSE I CARE ABOUT AND THAT I'LL NEVER MAKE THEM PROUD... THAT I DESERVE EVERYTHING BAD THAT'S EVER HAPPENED TO ME... THAT I DON'T DESERVE LOVE... THAT I'LL LIVE ALONE AND THAT I'LL DIE ALONE... EVERY DAY IS A STRUGGLE; EVERY SINGLE DAY I HAVE TO CONVINCE MYSELF THAT IT'S ALL WORTH IT AND THAT I SHOULDN'T JUST BLOW MY BRAINS OUT...
GEE, I WONDER WHY I'D WANT TO GET AWAY FROM THAT? THERE ARE DAYS WHEN IT'S ALL I CAN DO TO STAY IN BED AND NOT SLIT MY OWN WRISTS... DAYS WHERE I ACTUALLY HAVE TO DUCK INTO A BATHROOM TO HIDE THE TEARS WHEN THEY FINALLY COME... DAYS WHERE I'M SO FUCKED UP THAT I LOCK MYSELF UP IN MY ROOM BECAUSE NO ONE CAN SEE ME LIKE THIS...
AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE USELESS FUCKING ADVICE; ON ALL THE PEOPLE WHO TELL ME TO "SNAP OUT OF IT" OR TO "BE POSITIVE" OR TO "STOP BEING MELODRAMATIC"... I'M SO FUCKING TIRED OF IT ALL, MAN... I JUST WANT IT TO BE OVER!"
Dr. Snow seemed nonplussed. He obviously hadn't expected this outburst.
Dean took a few moments to compose himself and sneakily wipe his face on his jacket, then he continued:
"Look, I promised myself a long time ago that I'd never kill myself... but if there's a way for me to save someone; to die for a person or a cause, and put myself out of my misery... then everybody wins. Is that so bad?" Dean asked.
Dr. Snow took off his glasses. Dean sensed that his part of the conversation was over, and he braced himself for some grade A meaningless psycho-babble .
"Dean... I recognize several personality disorders -anxiety, depression and bipolar disorders, for starters- and all of them are perfectly treatable... but more importantly, they're all rooted in your sense of self-worth. As a child, you've learned to use jokes to mask your true feelings, and you've never grown out of that phase... and as you grew up and watched your dad present a stoic, tough exterior to the world, it became your definition of manliness and the model you've been trying to emulate, your whole life... you cling so hard to outdated macho ideals to mimic your dad and be the man you think he'd be proud of, never allowing yourself to show weakness to anyone.
You cloak your feelings in denial and bury them in distractions, but that's only a painkiller, not a cure... and your inability to open up pushes people you care about away. I'm willing to bet that you've personally sabotaged every meaningful relationship you've ever been in, not to mention pushed away countless friends, as if you're always trying to see how much you can get away with.
That's unsustainable. Your low opinion of yourself and refusal to open up will eventually cost you every person you hold dear, and they are the reasons for your abandonment issues... but let's be fair; how can they love you when even you don't love you? Your obvious desire to sacrifice yourself to give your life meaning points to that... you hate yourself because you feel you aren't good enough to earn your father's pride, and that is the single most repressed feeling you're trying to run away from.
Listen to me carefully, and believe what I say; you're locked in a cage. You keep looking for ways to break out; drinking; hobbies; distractions, but nothing works... and believe me, no amount of therapy or drugs can help if you don't want to be helped... only you have the keys to the cage. Your misery doesn't define you; stop feeling sorry for yourself and being miserable out of some misguided, romanticized notion that that's your lot in life. You can find peace, and you can find happiness... if you only forgive yourself, and stop holding yourself to such impossible standards. You're your own harshest critic and your own worst enemy."
Outwardly, Dean gave no indication he'd even heard anything... but every word resonated within him.
Dr. Snow was right.
They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, until Dr. Snow decided to break it.
"You've asked me what's going on, and I promised I'd tell you in good time... well, it's time for the plot twist... and I've got to say, only a subconscious as fucked up as yours would add a plot twist... you have the soul of a writer" Dr. Snow said mysteriously, with an outlandish glint in his eyes.
That didn't sound right to Dean at all.
"Excuse me?" He inquired.
"Come on, Dean... you know what this is. There's a reason why I look like Dr. Wilson from House, one of the TV characters you can relate to the most; same reason why my name is Snow; and why I'm speaking in Morgan Freeman's voice; and why this room is so full of cliches, since you're a melodramatic drama queen... we could have been anywhere... This could have been the Playboy mansion and I could have been Hugh Hefner, but you chose a shrink's office..." Dr. Snow sighed exasperatedly, then he continued:
"Anyway, I'm your alter ego. A figment of your imagination. You never woke up from that coma. You've been unconscious for hours, days, weeks, years... I have no idea. But what I do know is that you have a choice now... I just had to make you face your demons so you can make an... ahhhh, informed decision." Dr. Snow -or whoever/whatever the hell he was- spoke matter-of-factly, as if explaining to a toddler for the hundredth time that 2 plus 2 makes 4.
"Yeah? And what choice is that?" Dean asked, struggling to process this new information.
"Well, to borrow heavily from such popular series as Harry Potter, The Matrix, Supernatural and even House M.D. in that one episode; you can either choose to slit your wrists with the knife I introduced you to earlier, and I don't think I need to explain what that would do; you could walk out that door, wake up and carry on with your life... or you could go back to sleep, and take your chances with the coma.
I know your head is a dark place to be... but you have to promise me that you'll try to help yourself, if you do decide to go out that door... Ultimately, your friends, your ex's and even your family's opinions are irrelevant. You don't owe them anything; you don't need their validation, and your self-worth is definitely not conditional on their approval. The only opinion that matters is yours... but you won't see it; you're too proud to change or to seek help... and we'll both find ourselves back here very soon."
Dr. Snow stood up and headed towards the door... but a sad, knowing smile on his face as he said that last sentence caught Dean's eye. He had to ask.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"Have we been here before?"
Here we go; thought Dean. Couldn't they have just thrown him in jail?
"Court order" He replied curtly, not bothering to look up.
And why would he look up? He was there against his will, and he was determined to be as petty as possible. They could only force him to physically be there, but they'd never be able force his mind to cooperate. Mentally, he was humming the guitar solo from Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird... and having such a great time doing it that he found it difficult not to bob his head or air guitar it.
Halfway through the solo -which must have been around the 40 second mark- the doctor spoke.
"Fair enough. I know you're here against your will, but there's nothing either of us can do about it, since this is indeed a court order... so what do you say we actually have a conversation?"
Dr. Snow was a stereotype; tweed jacket, beard, glasses, clipboard and pen, certificates on the wall, calm and composed demeanor, minty breath, the whole nine yards... but what Dean found the most intriguing was the striking resemblance he bore to Dr. James Wilson from House M.D, a TV series he used to watch in his youth. He made a mental note to save the jab for when the doctor got too invasive.
"What can I say, doc? It's just something about handcuffs that makes me less talkative... but it does make me frisky as hell, you kinky beast" He replied with a sly wink.
Dr. Snow showed no signs of annoyance at his comment. Instead, he responded by opening a folder on his side table.
"I find your background very interesting, Dean. May I call you Dean?" He asked, pausing to keenly watch his response.
"Baby, I think we're way past “Dean”... but I don’t care how "interesting" you think my "background" is; I'm not into assplay " Dean replied, holding his gaze.
Dr. Snow continued as if he'd replied with a simple "yes".
"You've had a lot of run-ins with the law, Dean... almost too many for a man in his mid-twenties. Arson; burglary; blackmail; vandalism" He listed absently, vaguely gesturing towards the folder. "And now armed robbery... you've done it all".
"Yeah? Does that turn you on? I could tell you were into bad boys the minute I walked in"
Surprisingly, Dr. Snow smiled. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?" He asked pointedly.
"I'm hard to get; if you want this sweet ass, you're going to have to work for it" Dean replied inconsequentially.
"Homoerotic undertones aside, what interest me the most aren't your crimes... see, I've met a lot of scumbags in my line of work, Dean... but you don't strike me as one" He said, leafing through the pages of his folder.
"Careful, doc... all this sweet talk is making me wet" Replied Dean, moaning and rubbing his groin with his cuffed hands as a girl would rub her clitoris. He was rewarded with a quick flash of anger he would have missed if he'd blinked.
"Yeah, you're not a scumbag... I have your SAT scores here; you could have got into pre-med if you'd wanted... you were a grade A student up until high school; all your teachers agree"
"I was a nerdy kid, so what?" Dean asked defensively.
"Not only were you academically successful, but I can see here that you've done a lot of volunteer work, and none of it was court-ordered... moreover, I've looked into your record, and all of your crimes were either due to poor anger management, or petty theft in order to support your family in times of trouble. Is that correct?" The doctor asked.
Dean averted his gaze and took an interest in a bird nesting on a branch outside the window.
"I thought so. And that's why instead of standing idly by and watching your partner shoot that old woman, you took a bullet for her and landed yourself in a coma for weeks... I ask you, are these the actions of a deranged lunatic and a threat to society?"
Anger flashed in Dean's eyes.
"Robbie should never have tried to shoot that old lady. That wasn't part of the plan. It was supposed to be a clean operation, in and out; no blood and no fuss... but he panicked and shot at her, and I couldn't let her die" Dean wasn't sure how he'd survived getting shot in the chest at such a close range, and he still cursed Robbie for being such an amateur.
"Exactly my point. Even your hobbies; all I had to do was open your Facebook page... you're into poetry, music, weight-lifting, skiing-"
"Long, romantic walks on the beach with your mom" Interjected Dean.
For the second time, Dean saw a flicker of anger on Dr. Snow's calm face. He was getting somewhere.
"I have yet to meet a single person who has more than 2 solitary hobbies who isn't trying to hide from something or run away from his demons. You obviously aren't the hardened criminal you would have me believe... so what happened to you? Why are you acting out?"
"Oh I'm definitely "hardened"... touch it if you don't believe me" Dean replied with another hostile wink.
"I know there's a good person inside you somewhere, Dean... and that's why when the DA sent your partner to jail, he didn't send you too... you're a good person on some level; you have to see that!" Snow gestured wildly. Dean was finally getting on his nerves.
"I can assure you there's no one inside me, doc, but who knows... if you play your cards right, maybe there will be inside you"
"What was your childhood like?" Asked Dr. Snow. Dean could almost swear his voice was shaking now. "Did your mother hug you much?"
"Yours did a lot more than that" Replied Dean with a ruthless laugh.
... and in the blink of an eye; before Dean could even process it, he was pinned against the wall.
In one fluid motion, the doctor who was seconds ago calmly trying to find a weak spot in his armor was suddenly red in the face, panting with rage, with a blade in his hand fixed under Dean's neck. Dean felt the first pangs of doubt and fear... what was going on?
"Oh baby, you know I like it rough" Oh well... as last words go, that wasn't so bad.
Dr. Snow just stood there, pinning him to the wall and angrily staring him down with all the hostility in the world radiating from his eyes.
"What, you want to call out to your parole officer? Trust me, he doesn't get paid enough to care... and even if he does, the door's locked. Are you a betting man, Dean? Because I bet you I could tear out your throat before he gets to you... and trust me, I know where to cut" for emphasis, Dr. Snow pressed his knife up against Dean's neck, drawing blood.
Dean couldn't figure out why Dr. Snow had suddenly turned into a blood-thirsty psycho... and what's more, he had no idea what his endgame might be... but the anger he saw in his eyes was real, and it was personal; it was the kind of anger you had for someone very close to you who disappointed you in a significant way. Something was very very wrong.
"What is this; good shrink, bad shrink? What do you want from me?" Asked Dean, his mind racing.
"I want you to talk." Dr. Snow spat. "I want you to drop the whole smart-ass, macho act and just talk. If I'm satisfied with what you say, I'll let you live. Does that sound good?" He stared at him imploringly.
"Why are you doing this?" Dean asked, curious in spite of himself.
"I'll tell you everything in good time, but you have to let me help you first... please." He eased his grip on Dean, but the knife stayed where it was.
Dean was just about to tell him to blow it out his ass, but the way the doctor was looking at him gave him pause... this was definitely personal for him, and he had to find out why. Besides, he could see anger in his eyes, but no hate. His gut feeling was that the doctor meant him well... or at least thought he did.
"Fine... you win, you bastard. Let me go and I'll tell you what you want to know" Replied Dean, defeated.
Dr. Snow let him go... and in the blink of an eye he was back in his chair, looking as sharp and calm as ever, as if nothing had happened. Dean dragged himself back to the stereotypical psychiatrist's couch, and lay on his back. Dr. Snow wrote something on his clipboard, which Dean imagined was a check mark next to "Break patient" on his to-do list, and he returned to his line of questioning.
"Tell me about your childhood"
"I was a nerd. I was bullied a lot... and no matter how good my grades were, my parents always expected better... so I eventually gave up, and I decided to live my life in highschool... but that's when my grandma got sick and I started trying to make money to pay for her chemo because my parents didn't earn enough... and it wasn't always legal. There, is that good enough for you?" He asked bitterly.
"You attempted suicide at age 17?"
"Yes... that's when the cancer finally killed her... and while I was struggling with her death, I met a girl who made everything better. She was there for me when no one else was, and she's the biggest reason why I got through it... but then she left me. She left me, broken and in pain, and that's when I realized that I was alone... so very alone. Everyone left; grandma died and my girlfriend left me, so I decided to kill myself."
"Except you didn't do a very good job of it, did you?" Dr. Snow replied scornfully.
"No, I didn't; my dad saved me, right on time... but anyway, that was way back then; I was a kid. I'm never going to kill myself; that's the easy way out. I have people who look up to me and depend on me... taking my life would be a slap to their faces."
"I must say, I agree. Suicide is never the answer." commented Dr. Snow. "Did you get involved in any other romantic relationships since then?"
"I did... but they all ended the same way. They never stay; it's like I'm cursed or something... but I've learned to be alone a long time ago; it's the only thing I know now" Realizing he'd said too much, Dean's voice trailed off and he stopped talking.
Dr. Snow allowed him a few seconds of silence, then piped up again.
"You mentioned people who look up to you; care to elaborate?"
"Yes; my little sister... she idolizes me. I'm her role model; her protection and her support. She needs someone to look up to; and someone to be there for her whenever she gets herself into trouble as she always does. There's nothing I wouldn't do for that kid; I'd die for her. Worse; I'd live for her."
"I see."
Dr. Snow arranged his folder and made some more marks on his clipboard.
"Let's talk about your mom" Said Dr. Snow, again watching his reaction closely.
"What about her?" Dean asked, starting to get angry again.
"Just tell me about her, please" Said Dr. Snow patiently.
"She's an amazing woman. A very simple woman... with her, what you see is what you get . You don't have to think about subtext... and she's always supported me and been there for me... never expected any more than I could give. She understands me; the real me. I don't have to justify my actions or change who I am for her to love me or to be proud of me"
"As opposed to your dad?" Dr. Snow asked shrewdly.
"Don't you say one word about my dad, you son of a bitch. My dad is a great man... he is always there for us; even when things got rough, he never left... his whole life, he fought tooth and nail to provide for us; give us a better life than his parents gave him... and we've always leaned on him; put more pressure on him than anyone can bear, and he's always taken it without complaint... even at the age when he should start going soft. No matter how bad things got, even when his mother was dying slowly of cancer, he never showed any signs of weakness or pain. He's unshakable; a solid rock... I will never be half the man he is"
"And how do you think he feels about you?"
"Alright, that's it. I'm not going to answer any more questions" Dean said, fighting to control his anger. "I don't see how any of this is relevant to my crime. Just let me go already; we're way past one hour anyways... where's my officer?" It made no sense that the session was allowed to go on for so long.
"Why did you save that woman, Dean? If you aren't suicidal, why did you do it?" His eyes beseeched him; begged him for an answer.
"I just did, OK? Let me out of here" The look in Dr. Snow's eyes was starting to worry him.
"I asked you a question" Dr. Snow said firmly.
"I gave you an answer" Replied Dean, holding his ground.
"WHY DO YOU WANT TO GIVE YOUR LIFE AWAY?" Yelled Dr. Snow.
Dean was at his breaking point. It all came out in a burst.
"BECAUSE I DON'T CARE WHETHER I LIVE OR DIE, ALRIGHT? BECAUSE I'M WORTHLESS AND MY LIFE HAS NO VALUE! WHY'S THAT SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND? I'M CONSTANTLY TRAPPED INSIDE MY OWN HEAD, MAN! THE DOUBTS, THE FEARS, THE SADNESS, THE ANGST, THE SELF-PITY, THE SELF-HATE, THE VOICES, THE FUCKING VOICES, ALWAYS TELLING ME THAT I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH; THAT I'M NEVER GOOD ENOUGH AND THAT I'LL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH... THAT I ALWAYS LET DOWN THOSE I CARE ABOUT AND THAT I'LL NEVER MAKE THEM PROUD... THAT I DESERVE EVERYTHING BAD THAT'S EVER HAPPENED TO ME... THAT I DON'T DESERVE LOVE... THAT I'LL LIVE ALONE AND THAT I'LL DIE ALONE... EVERY DAY IS A STRUGGLE; EVERY SINGLE DAY I HAVE TO CONVINCE MYSELF THAT IT'S ALL WORTH IT AND THAT I SHOULDN'T JUST BLOW MY BRAINS OUT...
GEE, I WONDER WHY I'D WANT TO GET AWAY FROM THAT? THERE ARE DAYS WHEN IT'S ALL I CAN DO TO STAY IN BED AND NOT SLIT MY OWN WRISTS... DAYS WHERE I ACTUALLY HAVE TO DUCK INTO A BATHROOM TO HIDE THE TEARS WHEN THEY FINALLY COME... DAYS WHERE I'M SO FUCKED UP THAT I LOCK MYSELF UP IN MY ROOM BECAUSE NO ONE CAN SEE ME LIKE THIS...
AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE USELESS FUCKING ADVICE; ON ALL THE PEOPLE WHO TELL ME TO "SNAP OUT OF IT" OR TO "BE POSITIVE" OR TO "STOP BEING MELODRAMATIC"... I'M SO FUCKING TIRED OF IT ALL, MAN... I JUST WANT IT TO BE OVER!"
Dr. Snow seemed nonplussed. He obviously hadn't expected this outburst.
Dean took a few moments to compose himself and sneakily wipe his face on his jacket, then he continued:
"Look, I promised myself a long time ago that I'd never kill myself... but if there's a way for me to save someone; to die for a person or a cause, and put myself out of my misery... then everybody wins. Is that so bad?" Dean asked.
Dr. Snow took off his glasses. Dean sensed that his part of the conversation was over, and he braced himself for some grade A meaningless psycho-babble .
"Dean... I recognize several personality disorders -anxiety, depression and bipolar disorders, for starters- and all of them are perfectly treatable... but more importantly, they're all rooted in your sense of self-worth. As a child, you've learned to use jokes to mask your true feelings, and you've never grown out of that phase... and as you grew up and watched your dad present a stoic, tough exterior to the world, it became your definition of manliness and the model you've been trying to emulate, your whole life... you cling so hard to outdated macho ideals to mimic your dad and be the man you think he'd be proud of, never allowing yourself to show weakness to anyone.
You cloak your feelings in denial and bury them in distractions, but that's only a painkiller, not a cure... and your inability to open up pushes people you care about away. I'm willing to bet that you've personally sabotaged every meaningful relationship you've ever been in, not to mention pushed away countless friends, as if you're always trying to see how much you can get away with.
That's unsustainable. Your low opinion of yourself and refusal to open up will eventually cost you every person you hold dear, and they are the reasons for your abandonment issues... but let's be fair; how can they love you when even you don't love you? Your obvious desire to sacrifice yourself to give your life meaning points to that... you hate yourself because you feel you aren't good enough to earn your father's pride, and that is the single most repressed feeling you're trying to run away from.
Listen to me carefully, and believe what I say; you're locked in a cage. You keep looking for ways to break out; drinking; hobbies; distractions, but nothing works... and believe me, no amount of therapy or drugs can help if you don't want to be helped... only you have the keys to the cage. Your misery doesn't define you; stop feeling sorry for yourself and being miserable out of some misguided, romanticized notion that that's your lot in life. You can find peace, and you can find happiness... if you only forgive yourself, and stop holding yourself to such impossible standards. You're your own harshest critic and your own worst enemy."
Outwardly, Dean gave no indication he'd even heard anything... but every word resonated within him.
Dr. Snow was right.
They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, until Dr. Snow decided to break it.
"You've asked me what's going on, and I promised I'd tell you in good time... well, it's time for the plot twist... and I've got to say, only a subconscious as fucked up as yours would add a plot twist... you have the soul of a writer" Dr. Snow said mysteriously, with an outlandish glint in his eyes.
That didn't sound right to Dean at all.
"Excuse me?" He inquired.
"Come on, Dean... you know what this is. There's a reason why I look like Dr. Wilson from House, one of the TV characters you can relate to the most; same reason why my name is Snow; and why I'm speaking in Morgan Freeman's voice; and why this room is so full of cliches, since you're a melodramatic drama queen... we could have been anywhere... This could have been the Playboy mansion and I could have been Hugh Hefner, but you chose a shrink's office..." Dr. Snow sighed exasperatedly, then he continued:
"Anyway, I'm your alter ego. A figment of your imagination. You never woke up from that coma. You've been unconscious for hours, days, weeks, years... I have no idea. But what I do know is that you have a choice now... I just had to make you face your demons so you can make an... ahhhh, informed decision." Dr. Snow -or whoever/whatever the hell he was- spoke matter-of-factly, as if explaining to a toddler for the hundredth time that 2 plus 2 makes 4.
"Yeah? And what choice is that?" Dean asked, struggling to process this new information.
"Well, to borrow heavily from such popular series as Harry Potter, The Matrix, Supernatural and even House M.D. in that one episode; you can either choose to slit your wrists with the knife I introduced you to earlier, and I don't think I need to explain what that would do; you could walk out that door, wake up and carry on with your life... or you could go back to sleep, and take your chances with the coma.
I know your head is a dark place to be... but you have to promise me that you'll try to help yourself, if you do decide to go out that door... Ultimately, your friends, your ex's and even your family's opinions are irrelevant. You don't owe them anything; you don't need their validation, and your self-worth is definitely not conditional on their approval. The only opinion that matters is yours... but you won't see it; you're too proud to change or to seek help... and we'll both find ourselves back here very soon."
Dr. Snow stood up and headed towards the door... but a sad, knowing smile on his face as he said that last sentence caught Dean's eye. He had to ask.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"Have we been here before?"
Dr. Snow smiled.
"More times than you'll ever know, kid."
He left his knife on the side table, opened the door, and left the room.
Dean sat there for what felt like days, thinking about his impossible choice. He finally had what he wanted... all he had to do was kill himself, and he'd be free from his demons forever. It was all finally so easily within reach... he only had to reach out for that knife... but what kind of person would he be if he abandoned his family to fend for themselves?
His choice was clear.
Dean walked to the door, inwardly cursed himself, opened it and walked out.
And just like that; he woke up gasping for breath in a hospital bed with no recollection of what happened... once again trapped inside the cage in his head, screaming himself hoarse where no one can hear him.
In the memory of Chester Bennington, a man who got me through a lot of tough times in my life, and whose death shook me to my very core.
"More times than you'll ever know, kid."
He left his knife on the side table, opened the door, and left the room.
Dean sat there for what felt like days, thinking about his impossible choice. He finally had what he wanted... all he had to do was kill himself, and he'd be free from his demons forever. It was all finally so easily within reach... he only had to reach out for that knife... but what kind of person would he be if he abandoned his family to fend for themselves?
His choice was clear.
Dean walked to the door, inwardly cursed himself, opened it and walked out.
And just like that; he woke up gasping for breath in a hospital bed with no recollection of what happened... once again trapped inside the cage in his head, screaming himself hoarse where no one can hear him.
**************************************
In the memory of Chester Bennington, a man who got me through a lot of tough times in my life, and whose death shook me to my very core.
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