Cultivate a black technology god

Chapter 203 Ariel's past (6)

Ariel ignored the couch and walked towards the desk and chairs at the other end of the consulting room.

She stepped on the broad carpet, her movements were slow and tense.

As he walked, he counted the garlands of roses on the carpet.

She stopped.

On the top bookshelf on the green wall, there is a black pen with a gold belt, embedded in a gold pen holder on an agate base, a small green pencil holder and a green vase with green leaf lace.

There are various green plants inserted in it.

The doctor didn't use fake flowers, and Ariel was happy about that.

Ariel carefully pulled out a mahogany chair from under the desk and sat stiffly on the edge of the chair.

The impression given is that of simplicity, authenticity and lack of emotion.

It seems like you are submitting a resume at your employer's office, rather than coming back after a hard fight with strong intentions to talk to your doctor.

She began to talk about college graduation, teaching, working in the field of occupational therapy, painting exhibitions, not following Dr. Wilbur's advice to undergo psychoanalysis, and even her mother's death. In this cold hour Guilty, all mentioned, mentioned without emotion at all.

Ariel is also icy when she introduces Stanley McNamara.

He was an English teacher who was a colleague of hers when she taught in Detroit.

Although their relationship had grown to the point where he proposed marriage, she was still icy when she mentioned him.

She avoided her real relationship with him, her intimacy or her own feelings, except that he was half-Irish and half-Jewish, that his father had abandoned his mother, and that his mother had abandoned him.

The report also included her observations: Stan had grown up in an orphanage, had struggled to graduate from college, and found his own place.

In fact, what Dr. Wilbur is interested in is not Ariel's introduction to Stan, but what she didn't say about Stan in the introduction.

But doctors did not urge her to speak.

An hour is almost gone.

All she asked was:
"What do you want me to do?"

"I want to work in the field of occupational therapy," Ariel replied.

"I suppose you've been engaged in this work for a long time."

"I think I'd like to marry Stan, but I'm not sure."

The doctor asked her if she wanted to come back for a follow-up visit.

Ariel lowered her head shyly, peeped out through the slits of her eyes, and said timidly:
"I want to come back and ask you to do a psychological analysis."

Dr. Wilbur was happy.

Arielle Dorsett would be an interesting subject to analyze, intelligent, well-endowed, and competent, but withdrawn, aloof, and fearful.

Her pupils dilated from anxiety to the size of the irises themselves did not escape the doctor's attention.

In the weeks that followed, psychoanalysis gradually became pivotal in Ariel's life.

It is not an exaggeration to say that she lived almost exclusively for her Tuesday morning appointment with Dr. Wilbur.

In preparation for a date, Ariel performs a ceremony to decide:

Should I wear a gray top with a rose sweater, a navy top with a blue sweater, or a gray skirt with an egg-green sweater?

Meanwhile, Ariel is keen to make frequent pilgrimages to Shemerhorn.

There she was literally immersed in the psychological literature, and she was particularly fascinated by medical records.

Her knowledge of symptoms was not motivated entirely by intellectual curiosity.

The more she learned about other patients' symptoms, the more adept she felt at concealing her own symptoms.

On the face of it, the continued concealment of what she had come to New York to reveal had quickly become her obstinate purpose.

A patient, sometimes even at the first consultation, makes the doctor aware of him.

But the patient Ariel, who has been in contact with the doctor for nearly two months, still buried herself, only showing the edge of the outline, Dr. Wilbur thought sadly.

On the outer edge of that outline, sat two figures.

One is Dr. Klinger, Ariel's art teacher.

For this person, Ariel has different opinions.The other one is Stan.

This man, whom Ariel wants to marry, but who emerges in psychoanalysis as a staid, dorky figure.

Through the probing of patient Ariel, the doctor finally found out:

Despite the ambiguity of the words, what he was proposing was a marriage without sex.

According to Ariel's terminology, it is called Platonic.

Why would a bright girl be willing to be involved with a man who is obviously penisless?

This is an outcast who has never known love and cannot give love to others.

What is the reason for such a low-level person to establish a marriage relationship?

The man's desire is low, and the woman's self-restraint is strengthened.

At first, the doctor had attributed this self-restraint to Ariel's strict upbringing.

However, this does not explain the fear in her eyes masked by her cold attitude.

"She's doing something stupid," thought the doctor.

"She wasn't open with me."

On December 12, Ariel finally popped up a new tune:

"I'm worried about the Christmas holidays."

"why?"

"Holidays disgust me."

"how could be?"

"There's so much to do. I don't know which one to do first, so I don't do anything. I'm all messed up. I can't describe it."

"Why don't you come three times a week during the holidays?" the doctor suggested. "In this way, we can talk more and relax the tension."

Ariel agreed.

By December 12, they met at the agreed time.

It was very boring at first, but then Ariel said:

"I wanted you to take a look at this letter from Stan. I just got it this morning."

And so Wilbur takes a huge step forward in seeing Arielle Isabel Dorset for who she really is.

This morning, Ariel seemed to be quite calm.

She spoke of Stan's letter with as little passion as usual.

But when she opened the handbag, she immediately panicked.

Only the lower half of the letter remained, and the truncated edge was jagged.

She didn't tear it.

Who tore it?
She searched carefully in her handbag.

The other half of the letter is missing.

She put the other two letters she had received that morning in her lap.

Both letters remain intact.

How it was put in the envelope after reading it at that time is still the same now.

But she clearly remembered that Stan's letter was also intact at that time, and it was also put in the envelope.

Now I can't even find the other half of the letter.

Who took it?When did you get it?Where was she when she took it?She doesn't remember any of it.

This kind of thing happened again, and this terrible thing actually followed her here, to the doctor's clinic.

This shadow followed her everywhere.

Ariel wanted to carefully hide what had just happened from the doctor who was sitting on the couch far away from her, so she put the incomplete letter behind the other two letters.

But the doctor was asking her, "You want me to read this letter?"

Ariel started to stutter, and the stammer changed further.

The prim and gentle middle school teacher from the Midwest, her face contorted with fear and rage.

She jumped up from the chair in front of her desk, moving so quickly as if she wanted to do everything in the world at once.

She tore through the letters that had been lying in her lap and threw them into the wastebasket.

Then he clenched his fists, stood in the middle of the room, and roared loudly,
"Men are all the same. Just can't believe them, really can't."

She started towards the two long windows, moving swiftly, much like a spider.

She pulled the green curtains to both sides, then raised her left fist and punched a small windowpane.

"Let me out," she screamed.

"Let me out!" was the excruciating plea—the cry of the haunted, the hunted, the ambushed.

Dr. Wilbur caught up quickly, but not quickly enough.

She hadn't touched her patient yet, with a click, Ariel's fist went through the window.

"Let me see your hand," the doctor said, grabbing her wrist.

Ariel shrank when the doctor touched her.

"I just want to see if your hand is cut," the doctor explained softly.

At this moment the patient stood motionless.

She looked at Dr. Wilbur for the first time since she jumped up in her chair, her eyes wide open with a questioning look.

"The window glass is broken, aren't you angry?" the patient whined in a little girl's voice, which was very different from the voice that had just condemned the man.

"Of course not," replied the doctor.

"I'm more important than the window?" The tone was distrustful.

"Of course," the doctor reassured her.

"If you want to install window glass, anyone can do it. I'll find someone who can do odd jobs, and it'll be no problem."

The patient seemed immediately relieved.

This time the doctor took her hand, but she didn't resist.

"Come on, let's sit on the couch," suggested the doctor.

"I want to take a good look at your hand. See if it's broken."

They turned around and walked towards the couch, past the handbag on the carpet, past all kinds of papers and paintbrushes that fell out of the handbag.

How furious she had been when the patient jumped up and dropped his handbag on the ground.

But now, the fear and anger are gone.

Ariel had been sitting in front of the desk, always keeping a safe distance from the doctor.

But this time Ariel was sitting next to the doctor on the couch, even after the doctor said "no injury", she didn't take her hand out of the doctor's palm.

But her mood changed again.

"There is blood." The patient said.

"No blood," replied the doctor. "You are not hurt."

"There was blood on the ceiling where the hay was stored," the patient explained. "Tommy Ewald is dead. I was there."

"Are you there?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, I was there, there."

"Where's the roof?"

"At Willow Corners."

"You lived in Willow Corners before?"

"I live there now," she corrected the doctor's question.

"Everybody knows I live in Willow Corners now."

This sensation begins when the patient jumps up from the chair.

The more Ariel talked, the stronger this feeling became.

"My friend Rachel was sitting on the canopy with me," Arielle gushed.

"There are several other children.

Tommy said, 'Let's jump down into the barn together. '

We jumped.One kid came across the cash register, where there happened to be a gun, and went off.

I went back and there Tommy was lying dead, with a bullet through the heart.

All the other kids ran away.

Rachel and I were the only ones who didn't run.

She went to Dr. Quinones.

I stayed there with Tommy.

Dr. Quinones came and told us to go home.

We didn't go.

We helped him remove the gun and covered Tommy with a blanket.Tommy is only ten years old. "

"You two are brave little girls," said Dr. Wilbur.

"I know Tommy's dead," the baby voice continued. "I understand. Really. I stayed there because I didn't think it would be good to leave Tommy lying there alone."

"Tell me," asked the doctor, "where are you now?"

"There is blood," was the answer. "I saw blood. Blood and death. I knew what death was. Really."

"Don't think about blood any more," said the doctor. "The more you think about it, the sadder it will be."

"Do you care if I'm sad?" That curious, distrustful look again.

"I am very concerned," replied the doctor.

"You didn't lie to me, did you?"

"Why should I lie to you?"

"Many people lied to me."

This feeling of being cheated, the anger, the fear, the extreme mistrust of people.

The tragic conviction that you are less important than a window.

These feelings and thoughts, which manifest themselves during this hour, are symptoms of a great disturbance of the mind.

In the tormented mind of the patient everything rises to the surface like dregs in a dirty well.

From the time the patient rushed to the window, the doctor not only noticed that she was behaving differently, but that her appearance and voice were also different.

She seemed to have shrunk.

Ariel always tries to stand up as much as she can because she feels smaller and doesn't want it to be felt.

But now she seems to have shrunk back to her original size.

Her voice is also different, she talks like a baby, not like Ariel.

But this kind of little girl's voice actually scolded the man with feminine words:

"Men are all the same. You can't trust them."

The Doctor had a definite impression that she was dealing with someone younger than Ariel.

But what about the swearing at men?The doctor is a little uncertain.

At this time, the question that she didn't dare to think about before suddenly blurted out: "Who are you?"

"Can you tell me the difference between me and her?" she said, shaking her head.

"I'm Peggy."

The doctor didn't answer, so Peggy went on, "We look different. You can tell. It's okay."

The doctor asked her last name.Peggy's answer was flippant. "I go by Dorset and sometimes Baldwin. Actually, my full name is Peggy Baldwin."

"Will you tell me about your condition?" suggested the doctor.

"Okay," Peggy agreed. "You want to know how I draw? I like to draw in black and white. I sketch with charcoal and pencil. I don't draw as much or as well as Ariel."

The doctor was silent for a while before asking: "So, who is Ariel?"

The doctor waited for an answer.So Peggy replied, "Ariel? Oh, she's another girl."

"I see," the doctor asked again, "where do you live?"

"I live with Ariel, but my house is in Willow Corners, as I told you."

"Is Mrs. Dorset your mother?" asked the doctor.

"No, it's not!" Peggy shrank back and shivered against the small pillow. "Mrs. Dorset is not my mother!"

"Nothing," the doctor reassured her. "I'm just asking."

Suddenly Peggy left the couch and moved across the room with that spidery swift movement that had rushed to the window not so long ago.The doctor followed closely behind.But Peggy was gone.Sitting on the small mahogany chair, next to the desk, was Ariel, a middle school teacher.This time the doctor saw it right away.

"How did my handbag fall to the floor?" Ariel muttered.She leaned forward, patiently picking through the scattered items in her handbag. "I did it, didn't I?" She pointed to the window again. "I'll pay, I'll pay, I'll pay." Finally, she asked in a whisper, "Where's the letter?"

"You tore it up and threw it into the wastebasket," the doctor said bluntly.

"Me?" Ariel asked.

"You." The doctor replied. "Let's talk about what happened just now."

"What can I say?" Ariel lowered her voice.She tore up the letter and shattered the windowpane, but she did not know when, how or why.She reached into the wastebasket to pick up a scrap of paper.

"You don't remember?" the doctor asked her softly.Ariel shook her head.

What a shame, what a horror.

The doctor now knew the unspeakable horror.

"Have you ever broken glass before?" Dr. Wilbur asked her calmly.

"Well," Ariel lowered her head.

"In this case, is it no different from before?"

"It's pretty much the same."

"Don't be afraid," said the doctor:
"You go into another waking state. You have what's called 'fugue'. It's a split personality state. It's characterized by amnesia and physical flight from the scene."

"So, you don't blame me, do you?" Ariel asked.

"No, I don't blame you," replied the doctor:
"It has nothing to do with blaming. What we need to do is talk about it more and the next clinic appointment is on Friday so we can talk then."

The one-hour appointment clinic is over.Ariel, who had gained control of herself, stood up and prepared to leave.

The doctor followed her to the door and said, "Don't worry, it can be cured."

Ariel left.

The doctor sat down on the chair and said to himself:

"What did I meet?" It didn't look like a person.Dual personality?Ariel and Peggy, are very different from each other.Seems pretty clear.I have to tell her on Friday.

The Doctor thought long and hard about Miss Dorset's next appointment.

The Dorset Misses, I am afraid?

She (they) now come three times a week because of the Christmas holidays.

Well, Ariel better come here more often.

The case was more complicated than she had thought.

Miss Dorset is coming on Friday.

Which Miss Dorset will it be?
(End of this chapter)