The Silent Patient

by Alex Michaelides

balletic,

paracetamol.

But that’s how therapy works. A patient delegates his unacceptable feelings to his therapist; and she holds everything he is afraid to feel, and she feels it for him. Then, ever so slowly, she feeds his feelings back to him.

But real love is very quiet, very still. It’s boring,

Remember, love that doesn’t include honesty doesn’t deserve to be called love.”

I could change the future.

This never ends well...

A man never abandons a woman like that. Not if he loves her.

Mhmm, tell me more, Dr. Creepazoid.

Alcestis’s emotions are harder to read—she remains silent. She doesn’t speak.

“How do you know what she needs? You’re overidentifying with her. It’s obvious. She’s the patient, you know—not you.”

“She’ll turn on you, Theo. Just wait. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Foreshadowing?

Therapists were obviously something she could relate to, unlike ward managers. From then on, she deferred solely to me, treating Stephanie as if she were nothing more than a receptionist, which I must admit rather wickedly amused me.

By therapist, you mean dude, right?

The sun was low in the sky, coloring the river bloodred.

There’s something there that I need to think about. I’m not sure exactly what yet.

So angry I have to stop here—or I might write something I’ll regret.

....is she faking???? Its so hard to tell...

Gabriel held out his hand for mine—I wanted to slap it away or scratch it. I wanted to bite him or hit him, or throw him over the table and scream, “You think I’m fucking crazy but I’m not crazy! I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!”

“But that was different. It was just a feeling. I never actually saw someone. This time I saw someone.”

I woke up this morning and remembered Gabriel’s gun. I’m going to move it from the spare room. I’ll keep it downstairs where I can get to it easily. I’ll put it in the kitchen cupboard, by the window. That way it will be there if I need it.

Oh boy, here we go.

He insisted and I could tell he meant it, so I had no choice.

I know that she clearly has suffered from er share of mental illness, but she strikes me as someone who has never been allowed to make her own choices. She's always had someone doing it for her. Or she lacks the strength to assert herself because of her childhood influences? Perhaps that will lead to her downfall? Or maybe thats ahat she wants us to think?

“I’m on your side, Alicia,” I said eventually. “You know that, don’t you?” She didn’t say anything. I took that as a yes.

Dr. Creepo Bananas, at your service.

Was God punishing me? Why? What was I guilty of—except falling in love? Was it that I loved too deeply, too needily? Too much?

I thought of my father—I knew what he’d do in this situation. He’d murder the guy. Be a man, I could hear my father shouting. Toughen up.

Im getting Hamlet meets Jack Torrence vibes

“I didn’t know Alicia kept a diary.”

As I emerged onto the Soho street, I felt a little guilty for ruffling Jean-Felix’s feathers like that. But it had been intentional—I wanted to see what effect the provocation would have, how he’d react, what he would do.

Is Theo escalating?

I didn’t know she kept one.

She was always pretty silent. We all were, as a family.

felt a small flicker of pride—a son congratulated by his father.

Ah, its finally said.

“At first, when Gabriel … when he was dead—

Not "when i killed gabriel"

Something in the way she was tilting her head was almost coquettish, and the beginning of a smile was forming at the corner of her mouth. She’s enjoying this, I thought. Having me in her power.

Is Christisn right?

she seemed curious to know as much as possible about my past and what had shaped me and made me who I am.

Soon it would be impossible to tell who was who.

“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. I understood that now.

Maybe thats the seduction talking

the man’s gun glinting in the shadows.

I thought he had Gabriels gun???

I tried to get a better look at him this time. But I still didn’t see his face properly, though something about his build was familiar. I had the feeling I’d seen him before somewhere.

He and Alicia both have a faceless adversary.

Despite my best homicidal fantasies, I wasn’t a murderer. I couldn’t kill him.

I mean, you almost did...

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

Now hes thr faceless man?

I reached into my back pocket and took out the black balaclava I’d bought. I pulled it over my head. I put on a pair of gloves.

What...the...?

Silencing Alicia wasn’t so easy. Injecting her with morphine was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 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.

Dr. Sicko. Fucking psychopath...