Restoria III

 “Great to see everything ended up just fine”, Dr. Tarsh hoots as the two sisters reenter the therapy office. He looks different from before. More professional— in a way. He put his glasses back on. Lutèce didn’t notice before, but she had been a bit ‘preoccupied’ during the first half of their visit. Once standing by the room’s window, he begins to make his way closer to the sisters— hands raised in an array of anticipation and settled anxieties. “How is she feeling?” The doctor expedient in his preliminary questions, “Is she mentally stable?”

His enthusiasm is as blinding as it is clear. “Dr. Tarsh,” Liz’s eyes squint at what she had just seen, “Lutèce isn’t feeling so well today. We should probably leave her for today. We will have to continue this another day.”

The light in Dr. Tarsh’s irises fade quicker than the enthusiasm that had previously pumped into them. His smile— while still present— turns hollow. “Hmm”, Dr. Tarsh coyly acknowledges, “I see. That is truly not good.”

He turns his attention to Lutèce instead. While still a minor, the question he wants to ask is noticeable. Only a thin veil covers his intrigue and his professionalism. Still, he speaks onward. “Miss Lutèce”, his words revealing, “I notice you are wearing a new pajama shirt. I am sorry for any unattended side-effects this treatment may cause you. But, it is important to remember, one’s health takes top priority. One cannot complete this treatment in poor conditions.”

Liz’s suspicions subside. Her worries of another doctor indulging the same curiosity dwindle as the doctor continues his goodbyes for the day. “I am glad to have both of you use my services for whenever you so desire your next visit.” Dr. Tarsh reluctantly finishes the typical spiel that every doctor does at the end of a appointment. “Talk to my receptionist at the front office for when you want to visit nex—“

“No”, Lutèce cutting him off, “I can continue.”

Stunned, Dr. Tarsh takes a step back. Even with enough of his morality to hold back pushing further like before, there isn’t enough of it left now to deny it from the girl’s own mouth. How could he resist the opportunity when it’s presented on a silver plater? Not even the guilt could open his mouth in time.

“Luè!” A baffled Liz barks, “No.”

The doctor’s pupils dart back and forth as the two sisters argue. Between finger-pointing and hand waving, the two don’t let up as the minutes pass. Things carry on with points of personal and factual bases being thrown around. Stuff a desperate therapist could make thousands on. Still, bags grow stout under Dr. Tarsh’s eyes. He had many more patients to see and an ever lessening amount of time to do it in. Regardless of his curiosity, something has to change.

“May I suggest something?” Breaking the sisters’ attention, “We could induce a short induction for today and continue a longer session of it another day? As if an easing affect of sorts.”

Sweat trickles down the doctor’s brow. Their glaring irises as ravenous as wolves clawing for dominance. While their ire has been completely twisted onto him, neither sister fully disagreed with this proposition. Albeit, it comes with a huff and a pout from both sisters.

As the three return back to their seats from before, the doctor resets the area to perform Lutèce’s request. His arm reaches to the multi-shelf end table beside his velvet arm chair. Glasses fidget upon his face as he adjust the plastic nubs on the clunky device that sits atop the table itself.

Even though the sisters’ still won’t look at each other, their pupils gravitate towards the odd series of choices the doctor is making. He, then, turns on the sound system. Soothing sounds wash over the three of them. Flowing currents of free water breeze between the seagulls and oceanic winds. Tranquility in audio format. Pleasant as this might have been, the volume is anything but. The doctor’s left hand rushes to the nubs once more to adjust the volume on the carriable boombox. This natural music simmers down to the right pitch to begin the hypnotic procedure.

“Ok”, Dr. Tarsh instructs, “now, Miss Sinclair, lay down and become comfortable like last time.” Lutèce follows along. More determined than last time, her hands still shake. A tremble that transfer across her arms and, briskly, to her legs. Nevertheless, she lays down and closes her eyes. As the doctor talks her down into the necessary state her mind must be in, the trembling won’t stop. A shake as infectious as fear could be to the young and aware. A divide between her conscious and subconscious to far.

Yet, Dr. Tarsh continues. Lutèce sinks further and further away from the room her body resides within. Regardless, the trembling hands keep her planted. A root unearthed by one. Liz, while still as headstrong as her younger sister, takes Lutèce’s hand. She holds it firmly in her own. With only a whisper from Liz, “I’m here”, Lutèce becomes still.