Weapons

Chapter 6

A woman with dark red hair worn in a bun, a tan complexion, and brown eyes steps through the doorway. She's young, short, and thin. The woman appears to be another doctor who works for “the hospital” with her lengthy white doctor's coat. She's wearing a long green skirt beneath her coat. “Hello children, my name is Dr. Alex Lancaster, although you can call me Dr. Lancaster,” she says as she walks over to the tall chair a few feet away from the table.

Don and I watch as she sits down. Dr. Lancaster pulls out a notebook and pen. We're quiet and she's quiet. “As I've already said, my name is Dr. Lancaster. I'm the lead psychologist here at the hospital. Do you know what a psychologist is” she asks?

Don and I don't speak a word. I struggle to figure out what she's trying to achieve. Don appears to be worried and confused. “A psychologist is someone who studies behavioral, cognitive, and emotional states in human beings,” she continues. “What does that mean” I ask?

“It means I attempt to figure the reasoning for why humans go through the manner they feel and why individuals think the way they think. We try to discover those things about people so we can better understand why people behave how they do,” Dr. Lancaster replies. The worry on Don's face is more obvious. “Can you tell us why we're here and what's wrong with us?” I ask. “Sometimes things happen that we don't understand,” she responds.

“Are there people on the other side of these mirrors?” Don asks her. “Yes, 29 stockholders and 3 potential investors, to be exact,” Dr. Lancaster, acknowledgments. “Why?” I inquire. “They're here because they want to see you both…up close. They've heard a lot about the both of you over the past week and a half,” she answers.

“We've only been here for 8 days,” Don says. “We've known you'd be arriving for the previous month,” Dr. Lancaster responds with no emotion. She writes a few things in her notebook. “What are you writing?” Don asks. “I'm just taking a few notes.”

Don looks toward the mirrors and back at me. He appears angry, worried, and confused all at once. “How does that make you feel” she asks. Don and I are quiet. “Does it make you feel sad, angry, confused, or worried” she asks.

We stay firm in our silence. She jots something down in her notepad. “How does it make you feel to know your parents haven't written or asked about you” she continues. “I don't believe that,” Don replies. “What do you believe” Dr. Lancaster asks Don?

Don looks at her silently as the pen moves across the paper. “I think you both are great for our program. How does that make you feel” she asks while looking in my direction. Don and I look at each other. “I don't know what your program is. How can I have feelings toward something I don't know” I respond? I'm confused and worried.

“Excellent,” she responds as she writes something. “Why are you asking these questions,” Don asks. “I'm just trying to get to know you both better,” she counters. “You are both very mature for your ages. Children being mature at such a young age is usually due to too much responsibility,” she continues. Don and I look at each other and then stare back at her.

From what I've heard, most people ask questions about hobbies and favorite colors when trying to get to know someone. “I understand you turned 8 years old a little over a week ago. Did you have a good birthday” Dr. Lancaster asks Don? He says nothing and lets his head down. “Did your mother tell you happy birthday” she continues to pry.

“What is this?” I shout. “Whatever you think you know about us, you don't,” Don adds with no emotion. “That's why I'm trying to get to know you, so I can help you,” she responds. “We don't speak to strangers, and we don't trust strangers,” I say to her. “I'm talking to your brother right now,” she replies, annoyed.

“Willow can speak for the both of us, just as I can talk for the both of us,” Don counters firmly. “I see you both are very close, not just in age but on an emotional level as well,” she says as she writes on her paper. I can't stand this woman. The audacity she has to come in here and think we're going to tell her everything about us is pathetic. I should inform her what I think, although our parents always taught us, it's disrespectful to “talk back”.

Isn't that how a conversation works? Someone talks and someone else responds? Adults have the strangest ideals and thought processes. I don't think I could ever think the way an adult does. “I would rather not talk to you anymore,” I say to her.

“Unfortunately for you, you and brother have another 15 minutes left of this session,” she comes back. “How about you both play with some toys we have in here?” Dr. Lancaster suggests. “Because we don't want to play with the toys in here,” Don explains. “What's your relationship like with your father,” she asks Don. He keeps quiet.

She writes something down in her book. “What did you write” I ask? “I'm just taking notes,” she replies. Dr. Isaac walks into the room and over to Dr. Lancaster. He whispers something in her ear that I can't make out.

“It's very important that both of you cooperate otherwise we can't do what we need to do to make you better so you can travel home,” Dr. Lancaster says. “It is my understanding that you both have been wanting to go home. Doctors Isaac and Morbien have informed me that going home has been a goal for you,” she continues. “It is an objective. I miss Rose,” Don replies. “How would it force you to feel if I informed you Rose doesn't miss you both, and she's been doing better with the both of you being here” she asks.

“I don't believe you” I say. “Your parents haven't written to you or asked about you. Why is it so hard for you to believe” she counters? We hear a knock on the door and Dr. Morbien walks in. “Don, can you come with me please” Dr. Morbien asks. Don and I stand up.

“Not you, Willow, just Don,” he continues. “Why” asks Don. “This isn't an option. You're coming with me,” Dr. Morbien says firmly. I quickly stand between Don and Dr.Morbien. I put my hand behind me, to grab his palm.

“He's not going with you until you tell us why he needs to go,” I respond. “We don't have to explain anything to you or Don. Now is the time for you to step away,” Dr. Morbien replies. I get angry and panic. My chest feels tight. I want to do something, but deep down I know that I don't have the power to. I want to scream, but my mouth won't move.

Likewise, I can't let him go. He's all I have, and I'm all he has. There's no one here to stand up for him except for me. I shouldn't walk away; I need to stay put where I am. Dr. Morbien walks toward me. Don looks at me with worry and hurt.

The look in his eyes is telling me to step away, but I don't want to. He's my brother. I have to stay where I stand. I can't let him go. My heart feels like it's slowly being tugged out of my chest. It stings. I step away, not out of fear, but because I know he wants me to.

We don't know what's going to happen when I step away, although I do. “It's going to be okay” Don says to me as he pulls his hand from mine. I feel tears start to flood my eyes. I want to cry, although I can't. Furthermore, I can't cry because it will give them some sort of sick satisfaction.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, I say to myself internally. You can't break down, don't show weakness. Don goes with Dr. Morbien toward the door and turns back to look at me. “Don't cry” he mouths to me. He turns back and walks out the door with Dr. Morbien, the door shuts and locks behind them.