Hush Hush

Unsuccessful therapy

Dr. Vincent Finch's POV

Manson. Where do we start with that brat. He wouldn't co-operate. He was the worst patient I've ever had. I tried to help him using everything I had but he refused my help or anyone's help. He wouldn't tell me what he was thinking or what or how he was feeling. Ever since he started living with his foster parents; Jonathan and Emilia, he's been a spoiled little brat.

-•-•-

I was sitting at my desk in my office drinking a cup of tea. Then my phone started ringing and vibrating on the table, it's my good friend Sergeant Brian.

"Hello, Bri. What can I do for you?"

"I told you to not call me that, you know I don't like it. Anyway, I'm at a crime scene. There's been a terrible car accident involving a small family. The parents didn't make it but the little boy survived."

"So you want me to be this little boy's therapist?"

"I wouldn't ask but this boy just witnessed his parents die. He might need a few years of therapy by the best therapist."

"Aww. I'm flattered but yeah sure point him to my direction."

"Ok. Thanks, Vinny."

"Oh god damn it. I guess it's payback."

Being a young boy and watching your parents die right in front of you would give you nightmares that would probably still haunt you till this day.

Manson was put up for urgent adoption. He was shot up to the top of the adoption list.

I requested to speak with Manson before he went off to get adopted. I want to give Manson a quick and easy psych evaluation. I also want to know how he is coping.

He has extremely pale skin, like a vampire's skin or someone who is lacking pigment of the skin or someone who has never seen the light of day.

-•-•-

"Are you ok, Manson?"

"No. I don't know when my parents are going to wake up."

"I know what happened to them and I am sorry for what has happened. They're in a better place now. A place where they will be out of dangers' way."

He cried and then went off to be adopted, hopefully into a family that'll take car of him.

After watching a little kid being adopted into a family that'll take care of him, I decided to go have a look at manson's parents at the morgue.

-•-•-

I had a quick look at both of the bodies at the morgue so I could get a better understanding of what I was dealing with and what he dealt with.

When I got there I was met up with Sergeant Brian. "Why are you here?"

"I came here to see what's left of the parents and to say my prayers and hope that they rest easy."

The hospital's pathologist is here with us. He opened up the refrigerator slabs to reveal the parents and what was revealed terrified both of us.

The mother, or what was left of her, had her head cut in half but still attached to the body. The father Was pretzeled with the steering wheel of a car.

"So how do you think the car accident happened?"

"Not quite sure but I do know that there was no sign of rain or wind or any watery substances on the road."

"Oh. So it was some freak accident or something."

"Yeah, I guess so. Ok, well I have to go back to the station and finish my report."

"Ok, no worries. I'll talk to you when we meet again."

"Sure. I'll let you know if I find something of your interest."

"Ok."

Sergeant Brian left soon after our talk. I left soon after he did.

I went home with no family to come home to. My wife died from a brain trauma and my first and only child, Annabel-Lee, is living with her boyfriend. Hopefully she's in a healthy relationship and is living a better life than I am at the moment.

I have an appointment with Manson tomorrow so I'm going to have a good night sleep, only if I can but I'll try.

-•-•-

Manson's appointment is at 11:00 and at the moment it is 10:37. I have nothing else to do so I'm going to do some research to help me with what I'm dealing with and what Manson went through.

The car accident that Manson was involved in was the first. But how mangled up the parents were, that's a whole different can of worms. Manson shouldn't have survived that accident. Him surviving was a freak of nature, his parents would have had a better chance at surviving than he did. I don't have much access to many websites that'll help me but I will find a way to something. I could ask Sergeant Brian to help me.

I rang Sergeant Brian. "Hey, Bri. Could you help me with something? I want to do some research."

"Oh. Ok. I'll see what I can do. What exactly do you want help with?"

"I need some kind of access with some websites or something that could help me with Manson's case, only if that's ok with you."

"Uh, yeah, sure. When and where should we meet?"

"I'll let you know later. I have an appointment with Manson at 11 o'clock."

"Ok."

"Ok. I have to let you go."

"Ok, no worries." Then I ended the call.

The receptionist paged me. "Doctor, your 11 o'clock is here to see you now."

"Alright. Send them in."

Soon after, the door opened and Manson and an older woman walked in.

"Close the door behind you, please."

They closed the door behind them.

"Please, take a seat."

"Hey, Manson, how are you feeling today?"

"I'm ok."

"Hey, doc, I'm Manson's foster mother, Emilia."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." I kissed her hand.

"How is Manson coping with the home and school lives?"

"Manson likes to play in his room, go outside sometimes and play with dirt and insects. The normal things little boys like to do."

"And his school life?"

"I'm not quite sure. I don't go to school with him so I don't know but every morning and afternoon before and after school, he seems depressed."

"What do you and your husband do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?"

"While Manson is at school, I volunteer at the old folks' home. My husband works at the mine, he leaves early in the morning and doesn't get home until late at night. He tries to come home earlier but work seems to get the better of him."

"Ok but does your husband ever spends time with Manson? At all?"

"Only on the weekends, that's only when he can. My husband has taken Manson out to fishing and shooting and I think they both liked it."

"Ma'am, if you don't mind but could you step outside for a moment. I want to talk to Manson, privately."

"Uh, yeah, sure."

I got out of my chair and walked over to Manson. "It's ok, Manson, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you. You can trust me."

"Mommy says to not talk to strangers."

"Ok but I'm here to help you. I know what you're going through. I've gone through the pain too."

"I miss my mommy and daddy." Manson buried his head in his hands and started to cry.

"I know you miss them. I want to know how you're really coping with home and school."

"The kids at school pick on me."

"How come?"

"They say that I'm a witch and should be burned. They also say that I'm a mistake and should have died with my real parents. Some even say that I should have died instead."

"Oh. Well don't believe them. Just think of yourself as batman. His parents died and he's a hero."

"I never thought of that."

"And what about at home?"

"Home's great. I go outside sometimes to kill insects. I like to cut off their heads and watch them suffer before they die."

"Oh my ... What do you do inside?"

"Oh, I stay in my room with the light off and play in the darkness."

"Oh. Do you like going fishing and shooting with your foster father."

"Yes. Yes, I do. Whenever I catch a fish I like to cut off its head. Whenever we go shooting I like to be up close and personal with the animal and look into their eyes before I blow their heads off."

"Oh my god."

"Emilia, you can come in now."

Emilia opened up the door and came inside. "Do you want the door closed or leave it open?"

"Open, please."

Emilia left the door open and came to sit down next to Manson.

"I spoke to Manson about his home and school lives. What he told me didn't really surprise me. Many other little boys do similar things that Manson does."

"Oh. Does what Manson do good or bad things?"

"They're normal childhood things for boys."

"Ok. I guess that a good thing."

"Anyway this session has come to an end. If you don't mind, I would like to make monthly appointments with Manson."

"I wouldn't mind that actually."

"Ok. I'll make the arrangements."

I stood up out of my chair and so did Manson and Emilia. "Until next time Manson and Emilia."

I walked with Manson and Emilia to the reception and arrange monthly appointments.

The next month we had the next appointment and this time we spoke about his feelings and his parents' death to the best of our ability.

"I that know that nobody likes me and I've tried to fit in but still no one likes me and when I'm at home I like to stay in my room most of the time."

Emilia looked shocked like she's never known of this.

"Have you told your parents, they need to know so they can help you?"

Manson dropped his head. "No because I know they won't help. I know nothing will change if they do help."

"You won't know unless you try."

"Ok."

"Lift your chin up because everything is and will be alright. Also, don't fit in just be yourself and someone might come along to be your friend. Sooner or later."

The next time I saw him, he decided to bring his new friend that he made instead of his foster mother, Emilia. Manson introduced me to his friend, Brian.

I think it was 3 years later I had an appointment with Manson and he looked depressed than usual. I asked him what was up and he told me that his friend, Charles had hanged himself.

A few months went by and so did the appointments and I noticed that he was getting more depressed every time I saw him.

I wrote a script for antidepressants for him and told his foster mother, Emilia to get Manson out more often and take him out where he would like to go.

A fair few months went by after and Manson got a little more happier and less depressed.

We had a couple more appointments just to see if Manson needed anymore therapy and he didn't need anymore but just in case I made annually appointments for him until he turns 18 and if he needs more therapy after I'll arrange for that to happen.

A year went by and me and Manson caught up for another appointment. He was looking more mature and looked like he was dealing with pretty much anything that life threw at him.

I was really getting fond of Manson and how he was dealing with life, but deep down inside me I knew he wasn't.

One particular time when we met, I noticed cuts all along his arms.

"What are those cuts from?"

"It's from my cat."

He would blame them on some animal. I would ask him if he's ok and how was school and home was treating him. He would always respond with the similar answers - I'm doing fine and school and home is fine as well.

I had this gut feeling that he wasn't telling me the absolute truth, maybe everything is fine but I'm a therapist so I know when someone says they're 'fine' they're actually not.

The next year I had another appointment with Manson.

"My birthday is coming up soon."

"Well happy birthday. I hope you enjoy yourself."

"Recently I went to a funeral."

"Oh. Who's funeral?"

"My foster father's."

"Oh. I'm sorry for your lost."

"Eh. I'm not. For the last few months he's been a complete d**k to me and Emilia."

"Oh, Ok."

"Anyway, I'm coming to the end of year 10 and it's getting harder and more stressful."

I could see in his eyes that something isn't right.

A few days later, Manson had called me. "Hello. How can I help you?"

"I don't need help with anything. I just wanted to let you know today is my birthday."

"Happy birthday, again. How old are you now?"

"16 years of age."

"Cool."

"I've got a present for you, doc." Then he ended the call, just like that.

That same day, late in the afternoon I got a call from Sergeant Brian.

"Something bad has happened that I think you should come and have a look."

"What happened?"

"I can't say. You just have to have a look for yourself. Just come to 13 Esoteric Street immediately, it's urgent." The he ended the call.

I drove to 13 Esoteric Street. When I got there, I parked my car. There's police tape around the fence of the house. Police cars has been randomly parked. An ambulance also was parked outside as well.

When I got out of my car and walked up to the fence I was met up with a random police officer.

"You can't be here."

"Sergeant Brian has requested for me to come here. He wanted to show me something."

"Alright. I'll let him know that you're here for him."

The officer stood there and used his radio. "Serge, someone is here for you. He said that you wanted him so you could show him something."

"He'll be out soon."

Sergeant Brian came out of the front door and walked towards us. "Ok. I'll take it from here."

The officer walked back to the house.

"Hello, Doc, thanks for coming. Before we you go any further, you might need these." Sergeant Brian handed me a pair of latex gloves.

Sergeant Brian gestured me to follow him inside the house. I followed him through the door and up the hallway to the end bedroom. Sergeant Brian opened the door and what I saw horrified me...

...Manson had hanged himself using some kind of razor sharp wire which decapitated him with a clean cut. The floor was covered in blood. Manson's lifeless body laid there on the bloodshed floor while his head had rolled to his bed. Hanging from the ceiling was some kind of razor sharp wire that he must of used to do this to himself. He also had slit his wrists before he hanged himself.

I walked over to get a closer look and when I did, I noticed a bit of paper piercing from under his shirt. I called out to Sergeant Brian so he could pick up the piece of paper. What was on it horrified us and gave us both a facial expression that looked like we just seen a ghost.

The house search lasted until dawn; we searched his bedroom the most to try and find a reasoning behind this horrifying act.

One of the most interesting things that we found was a dairy of some sort which we found under his bed. I looked through it and most of the pages were blank except for at least fifteen pages that had writing on it. I could only read the first page before another officer asked me what I had. That officer had it sealed for evidence.

The contents just on that first page was evident that Manson blamed himself for his parents' death so he created a story describing that he killed his parents when he was about 4 years of age and then got committed to an insane asylum.

I blamed myself for that incident, if only I've done more and realised sooner. I was really trying the best that I could. But I guess I didn't try hard enough.

I just had this feeling that this day would come and that's what I was trying to stop from happening. Manson knew I was trying to help him but he just didn't want the help anymore.

I knew my gut feeling was right all this time but I just let that feeling go. I really wish I didn't than Manson would still be here.