“Take it away” I screamed at them. Sitting across from me, sitting there with their disapproving eyes, as if any answer I would give would be correct. They already decided I was crazy, and I was tired of these tests. What did any of them mean? Why ask to see these pictures over and over? Each time I say the same thing, the same answer and I’m tired of it. How many more days will they drag me here to be tested again?
I know I’m crazy, I know they’ll never see what I see. But it’s there every time, the fear, when they make me look at this one. It’s his face, looking at me with disdain, his tiny rimmed spectacles, his overly long mustache drooping over that hideous face. I see it enough, in my nightmares, I don’t want to see it again! They drag me from my comfortable soft room every week, only to force me once again to describe these images. When will it stop?
They finally took me back to my room, and I huddled under my soft mattress. Soon they’d bring my breakfast, always the same, but it was a distraction. Time is only from one meal to another, bedtime, and then the photo session, that’s how I keep track of time in weeks. I only know this because I overheard their “weekly session” introduction while taping my answers.
The orderly came, no breakfast today he said, but you have a visitor. Taken aback by no breakfast I thought I never should have screamed at them. I should have answered quietly as usual. I was taken down the hall to a room empty except for a man sitting at a table. He turned when I walked in and as my eyes adjusted to the brighter room, I saw him. This was no photo, this was him. I tried to run but the orderly took me to the table and made me sit down. “Hello, my daughter, you’re looking well..”