Scarecrow of 1889
Chapter 37: Therapy sessions

Chapter 37: Therapy sessions

A few days had passed since Sylvester had arrived at the asylum, and he mostly kept to himself, except during sessions with his assigned doctor when he needed to talk. Sometimes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he stepped out of this place, no one would even remember him.

He couldn’t help but think back to a time when times were simpler. He wished to return to his childhood, when he was happier. But something told him it had never been and everything had been, hidden until now.

The following week, Dr. Hall returned for another session with Sylvester, putting him under hypnosis before addressing him. "Are you there, Ricardo? I’d like to speak with you. Ricardo?"

"Que quieres? What do you want?" Ricardo responded in a bored tone, slouching against the couch before stretching out flat on the surface, his legs dangling over the armrest.

"I’d like to get to know you better," Dr. Hall replied.

"What for?"

Dr. Hall then asked, "You come from Spain, don’t you?"

"Do you want to go there with me next time? I see what you’re up to, doctor," Ricardo whistled. "But didn’t you hear what Marcello said last time? It ain’t going to work," he glanced over at the doctor.

"Don’t you want to help Sylvester?" Dr. Hall inquired.

Ricardo laughed, "I’ve got no interest in helping him. He’s a bit of a dimwit."

Dr. Hall noted the irritation in Ricardo’s voice and pressed on. "You seem to dislike him. Is there a reason for it?"

"Let us start with that he skipped meals while leaving us hungry, as if he was trying to be on a diet plan. I had to pick up his slack. Couldn’t exactly eat everything myself either, or it’d mess with Agnes. Don’t you see it? He’s a dead fish pretending to be alive," Ricardo declared, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Do you care for Agnes?" the doctor inquired.

"Sure," Ricardo replied casually.

"And what about Marcello?"

"He’s a brat. Acts too old for his age in front of people. Had to set him straight more times than I can count," Ricardo muttered, adding with a dry laugh, "Might’ve landed us in this place sooner if people had seen him in action."

"Have you ever experienced something truly painful, Ricardo?" the doctor probed.

"Like being held prisoner in this place?" Ricardo shot back.

"I’m sorry you feel that way, Ricardo. Is there anything we can do to make your time here more bearable?" Dr. Hall asked, hoping to coax out more information about Ricardo’s past.

"Stop locking my damn door," Ricardo chuckled, noticing Dr. Hall frown at his request.

"You know it’s a rule of the institute, not something I can control—"

"Then why do you ask my suggestion? Qué cansado."

"Perhaps I can bring it up to management?" the doctor proposed, receiving no response from Ricardo. "Are you on board with that?" Still, silence. "Marcello, are you there? Would you like to go outside?"

"I can...?" came the timid and eager voice, and Dr. Hall watched as Sylvester sat up, turning to face him. "Is there ice cream? And other children to play with?"

"The other children aren’t here today, but I can arrange it if you’d like. And yes, there’s ice cream," Dr. Hall assured him, noticing Marcello’s eyes light up with excitement. "Would you like to join me?"

"Let’s go!" Marcello darted to the door before the doctor could even open it, and together they made their way through the corridors. The boy noticed how, even though there were people here, they didn’t give him odd looks the way he received in the outside world.

Dr. Hall escorted Marcello to the pantry, retrieving the ice cream typically stowed there. Marcello spoke up, "I’m sorry about earlier. I got upset because they told me you were going to kill us."

Dr. Hall’s brows furrowed in concern. "Who said that?"

"Ricardo and Agnes. They said, that’s why we’re all here."

"I have no intentions of harming you, Marcello. I simply want all of you to get along. Don’t you want to get to know Sylvester? Or talk to him?"

Marcello savoured a lick of his ice cream before pondering. "I don’t know..."

Dr. Hall mentally noted Ricardo’s dominance among the alter egos, likely influencing the others. "Whom do you get along the most out of the three of them?" he asked

"Agnes, ’course," Marcello responded with a nonchalant, his attention now fully on finishing his treat. "Ricardo is always scolding me as if I can’t get things right."

The youngest alter was likely the most receptive to understanding and reintegrating into Sylvester, especially by addressing the trauma the child had endured. However, Dr. Hall knew it wouldn’t always be so straightforward, depending on the root causes and the process of their formation. Perhaps addressing them collectively would be akin to solving a Rubik’s cube, gradually aligning each aspect until they were all in harmony.

"How do you feel now?" Dr. Hall inquired.

"I think I am liking it here. I used to not get to walk around before, but I can now," Marcello replied with a smile.

"I’m glad to hear that, Marcello. My intention is for you to be comfortable and happy here, and not think that we are restricting or erasing you."

"Okay," Marcello nodded his head while watching the boy hop.

Once they returned to the room, Dr. Hall gently guided Sylvester’s alter ego back to sleep, and he then politely asked, "May I speak to you, Ms. Holloway?"

"Yes."

Sylvester’s voice abruptly changed from a man’s to a woman’s voice, which surprised Dr. Hall. He had treated many patients with the same illness, but this was the first time he was able to witness such a drastic change.

"I am Dr. Hall," he introduced himself.

"I know who you are. I have been listening to you speak to the others," Agnes replied softly, and when she fixed her seating position, the doctor noticed the details of how Sylvester assumed a feminine demeanour.

"I would like to know you better, Ms. Holloway. May I address you as Agnes?" Dr. Hall asked, and she stared at him briefly before giving a nod. "I read that you worked for a nightclub even though you had an existing job."

"It was a passionate hobby of mine. Nothing more than that," Agnes replied in a soft murmur, and Dr. Hall noticed the hesitation on her face, as if there was internal turmoil.

"I told you to stop dancing like that! Act like my child would! You are a disgrace!" Agnes heard her father scream at her when she was young. "DELILAH! I told you to stop taking him to the theatre! Look how he is behaving!"

"Stop yelling at me! If he enjoys it a little, what’s wrong with that?!" her mother retorted back.

"He is making a fool of himself by dancing like a woman! Last night, I found him using your lipstick!"

Agnes could hear her parents fighting over her, and she tried to block those thoughts. "Agnes?" the doctor called.

"Yes?"

"I think it is good to follow your passion. I would like to talk to you more later," Dr. Hall encouraged her. But Agnes didn’t comment on it, as if she wasn’t in the mood to answer his questions. She wasn’t happy that they were put in this mental institution.

When Dr. Hall concluded the session, Sylvester was brought back to consciousness and dismissed. As night fell, his room door was locked, and a guard stood watch outside.

As Sylvester began to drift off to sleep, Agnes voiced her concerns, "Are we really going to spend the next few years here? Shouldn’t we seek help...?"

"No," Ricardo responded firmly, and his shadow on the ground slightly moved. "Not this time. We are here for a reason, and it wouldn’t do us any good to break out like that. Don’t worry. I have the perfect plan to get us out of here. The doctor will believe what others have believed until now."

Weeks began to pass, but Dr. Hall noticed no change with the alters or Sylvester’s condition. They weren’t even close to finding out the trauma, nor was he able to get the alters to speak when it came to deeper subjects during therapy and hypnosis.

Agnes had begun to take walks in the garden, sometimes spending time there in the evening when no one was there. Ricardo had complained about being bored and needing books to read.

One day, Sylvester’s sister, Elizabeth, sent out a letter for him which read,

"Dear brother,

I hope you are doing well. John and I have been wondering how you are. You refuse to speak on the phone, so I have been relying on what the institution has been saying. Hopefully, we can come by when the spring starts. Mr. Leary informed that all your charges on your name have been cleared, so no one can hold what happened against you.

Love your sister, Elizabeth."

But in the morning, when Sylvester woke up, he found the letter torn in pieces on the table.

Feeling uneasy, Sylvester brought it up with Dr. Hall, who put him under hypnosis and questioned, "I heard that Sylvester’s sister’s letter was torn into shreds. May I know who did it?"

There was a lengthy silence, before one of them answered, "I did."

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