The Silent Patient

by Alex Michaelides

She spoke hesitantly at first, tentatively—trying to walk on legs that hadn’t been used in a while.

We were crashing through every last boundary between therapist and patient. Soon it would be impossible to tell who was who.

I was probably imagining it, but I felt we were being watched.

His words came back to me: “Borderlines are so seductive.” I looked into Alicia’s eyes. They weren’t seductive; they weren’t even friendly. A fierce mind was behind those eyes, a sharp intelligence that was only just waking up. She was a force to be reckoned with, Alicia Berenson.

We smoked in silence for a moment, maintaining eye contact, only inches from each other, until I felt a strange adolescent embarrassment and averted my gaze. I tried to cover it by gesturing at the courtyard.

I thought Alicia was going to cry. I fought a sudden desire to hold her, take her in my arms, kiss her, reassure her, promise her she was safe. I restrained myself.

“I feel that you need to be taken care of. I find myself wanting to take care of you, Alicia.” “No.” She shook her head firmly. “That’s not what I want from you.”

I’ve always thought of fear as a cold sensation, but it’s not—it burns like fire. It was so hot in that room, with the windows closed and the blinds drawn. Still, stifling, heavy air.

“I was having a brief siesta. I always do, after lunch. It helps me get through the afternoon.

countertransference.

“You don’t believe in the man?” “No, I don’t. I don’t believe he ever existed. It’s a fantasy. From start to finish.” “What makes you so sure?”

You’re in deep with Alicia, and your feelings are bound up with hers like a tangled ball of wool. That is the purpose of a supervision like this—to help you unpick the strands of wool—to see what is yours and what is hers. And once you gain some distance, and clarity, I suspect you will feel rather differently about your experience with Alicia Berenson.”

fear she has been performing for you. Manipulating you. And it’s a performance that I believe has been tailored specifically to appeal to your chivalric … and, let’s say, romantic instincts. It was obvious to me from the start that you intended to rescue her. I’m quite sure it was obvious to Alicia too. Hence her seduction of you.” “You sound like Christian. She hasn’t seduced me. I am perfectly capable of withstanding a patient’s sexual projections. Don’t underestimate me, Professor.”

“Don’t underestimate her. She’s giving an excellent performance.”

“The vulnerable woman under attack, alone, in need of protection. Alicia has cast herself as the victim and this mystery man as the villain. Whereas in fact Alicia and the man are one and the same. She killed Gabriel. She was guilty—and she is still refusing to accept that guilt. So she splits, dissociates, fantasizes—Alicia becomes the innocent victim and you are her ...

though something about his build was familiar. I had the feeling I’d seen him before somewhere.

Jean felix?

I acted without thinking—my body seemed to move on its own. My arm reached over the low wall into the garden and picked up a rock. I could feel its weight in my hands. My hands knew what to do: they had decided to kill him,

Yuri frowned. “But—I saw Professor Diomedes earlier. He was here.” “He was?” “Yes, I saw him early this morning. He was at the other end of the corridor, and he seemed in a rush—at least, I think it was him.”

Alicia was silent again, and this time her silence would last forever.

Diomedes shrugged. “My personal opinion is Alicia has always been highly suicidal. As we know, when someone wants to die, despite your best efforts to protect them, it’s often impossible to prevent it.”

Elif was being slipped some drugs by Yuri, and he was pocketing some cash.

What was Jean-Felix doing here? I wondered what he wanted; what it meant. I went into the waiting room and looked around. But no one was there.

My poor Alicia, my girl … my poor Alicia

She was me, and I was her: we were two innocent victims, deceived and betrayed.

I stood across the road, watching the house. I saw her again, standing by the window.

Was kathy with gabriel omg

I tried the gate—it was unlocked. It swung open and I stepped into the garden.

took out the black balaclava I’d bought.

switched on an electric fan.

I could see he knew I was lying. We looked at each other and he saw it—that I had recognized him. And there was something in his eyes I’d never seen before. Fear. He was afraid of me—of what I might say. He was scared—of the sound of my voice.

His black eyes stared at me for a second and I felt consumed by darkness. I was in the presence of a creature that wasn’t even human. He was evil.

I’m going to give you a choice. Either you die—or Alicia does. You decide.”

then Gabriel spoke. I didn’t recognize his voice at first. Such a tiny voice, so far away—a little boy’s voice. A small child—with the power of life and death at his fingertips. “I don’t want to die,”

Jasmine flowers floating to the ground. Can I smell jasmine somewhere? Yes, yes, sweet jasmine—on the windowsill perhaps …

I remained silent. How could I talk? Gabriel had sentenced me to death. The dead don’t talk.

The truth is Gabriel had my eyes, suddenly—and I had his. Somewhere along the way we had swapped places.

I saw it now. I would never be safe. Never be loved. All my hopes, dashed—all my dreams, shattered—leaving nothing, nothing. My father was right—I didn’t deserve to live. I was—nothing. That’s what Gabriel did to me. That’s the truth. I didn’t kill Gabriel. He killed me. All I did was pull the trigger.

Alicia was on trial for murder, I felt a deep sense of personal responsibility, and the desire to expiate my guilt and prove that I was not responsible for what had happened. So I applied for the job at the Grove. I wanted to help her through the aftermath of the murder—help her understand what had happened, work through it—and be free.

I had no choice—because of who I am.

Delusional

I am a psychotherapist, remember. Alicia needed help—and only I knew how to help her.

Gabriel was the second man to condemn Alicia to death; bringing up this original trauma was more than she could bear

the murder had much older, deeper origins than my actions.

That she didn’t die, but is asleep, is better—this way, I can still visit her every day and sit by her bed and hold her hand. I haven’t lost her.

help them the way I believe they should be helped. The way Ruth helped me.

Kathy doesn’t want to talk,

Is she trying to summon up the courage to tell me about Gabriel and the affair? But she doesn’t say a word. She just sits in silence, the way Alicia used to. I wish I could help her—but I can’t seem to reach her.

I did all this to keep Kathy—and I’ve lost her anyway.

I was altogether a different creature now, a guiltier thing, less capable of honesty. How could I sit opposite that frail old lady and look into those watery blue eyes that held me safe for so long—and gave me nothing but decency, kindness, truth—and reveal how foul I am, how cruel, how vengeful and perverse, how unworthy I am of Ruth and everything she tried to do for me? How could I tell her that I have destroyed three lives? That I have no moral code, that I’m capable of the worst kind of acts without remorse, and my only concern is for my own skin?

Perhaps some of us are simply born evil, and despite our best efforts we remain that way.

Cold enough to snow,

There was no way out. And the strangest thing is, I felt relieved.