What She Sees

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“They do not understand what you see. You are special, really indescribably special. Ynez, don’t let those people over there tell you differently.”

“It’s not…them. I-It’s me. I don’t w-want to be special. I don’t like it.”

“And I know that, but this, this is who you are. There are people who are extremely jealous of you. You have a gift. Even I am jealous of you.” Her dark doe eyes met his emerald ones. “You are jealous of me?”

“Yes, obviously. Why else would I tell you that?”

“It’s ju-just that most people wouldn’t be jealous of a sixteen year old fr-freak, that’s all.”
He sighed. “Ynez, you are not a freak. You’re different. There’s nothing wrong with being different.”

“Yeah, ex-except having a nervous bre-break down in the middle of the school, where everybody could see me, and hear me, and I was shrieking my brains out because I had a ‘mental break’. Again. I still don’t see why you’re jealous of me.” He laughed. “Ynez, you see the world in such a unique way. That’s why I envy you. I want to see what you see, tell me what you see when you go on your” he searched for a phrase, “mini vacations.” He hoped that making her feel better in this session would get her to open up a little. So far it was working. Ynez sighed. This was the main reason she hated therapy. It wasn’t Mr. Simmons, no he was the first therapist she had had in a long time that didn’t make her feel five years old. “Mr. Simmons, I-I-I know that you’ve read m-my file. Do I re-really need to tell you everything?”

“Would it help you to talk about it?”
Ynez was confused. None of the other doctors made her talk about her. “Ynez, you can talk in here. You don’t need to be scared. Anything you tell me will only be going to your regular doctor.”
“They t-to-told me not to talk. That I only make stuff up, and that I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” He made a mental note to add onto her file that she acts much younger than she is, maybe that’s a side affect of the medication? Or maybe her parents just treat her like she’s a child. I hope it’s the first. It could have something to do with the delusions, yet none of the past psychiatrists could correctly diagnose her. “Ynez, none of that applies in here. This is your safe haven, and I’m just a listening ear. You can tell me anything.”
“I d-d-don’t think that that that it would be a good idea. She might come, and even though I miss her, I have to move on.” Mr. Simmons regained Ynez’s eye contact. “Tell me about her. Who is she? Was she like you?”
Ynez nodded her head. “Yes. Sh-She was my sister, Corazon, bu-but we called her Cora. My tw-twin.” She stopped, eyes flitting around the room. Mr. Simmons noticed for the first time that she didn’t do it out of habit like he had read in the file. She did it because she was missing someone, her someone. “W-We were identical. We shared ev-everything, toys, books, clothing, even a bed. Bu-b-but then sh-she went without me. I told her n-not to go. She di-didn’t listen.” Now Mr. Simmons was interested. None of this was in her file. Ynez’s diagnoses, all seven of them, yes, the reason behind them, well, that wasn’t in there. “Where did she go?” Suddenly Ynez stopped her stuttering, he realized that it wasn’t a real one, it was only her safety net. He sadly remembered his own sister saying, “Nobody wants to hear a stutter talk.” “She went down to the lake. We were up at the cabin. We both saw the monster, in the lake. It wanted us to come down and see it. I told her it was a trick, that we should stay in the house like Mama and Daddy told us to. But Cora never listened. When Mama and Daddy came home they were scared, wondering if she was off somewhere but she was in the lake. She looked like she was asleep, but I knew that she was gone. I could feel it.” Mr. Simmons looked at his clock. 5 minutes left to their hour and a half long session. He just needed one more answer, “Ynez, how old were you when Cora died?”
“I was ten.”
“I hope that we can continue talking next week would you like that?” She nodded her head as her mother came in, and handed him the 25 dollar copay. “Thank you, Dr. Simmons, she’s been doing better at home. I think the new medication is helping a lot.” He bid his patient and her mother good bye until next week. “That figures that this medication would work, it’s most commonly used to treat Shared Psychotic Disorder.” He gave a small laugh, “Right medication, wrong diagnosis.” He scribbled down some notes, making sure to write that she was suffering from general delusions and specific ones of her twin sister, Corazon.





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