See The Dark.

Originally written Thursday 19 January & Thursday 9 February 2012

This is entirely a work of fiction.

I believe that one’s personality is multi-faceted in much the same way that a cut diamond has many faces: some of them are larger, and more dominant, while the others are smaller, not so obvious, and not clearly recognisable as faces until scrutinised. I believe that we make different facets of our personality available to different people, depending upon the role each person plays in our life. There are some people we reserve only the best of ourselves for, those who see only our humour, those who see our serious side, those who see our brutality.

And once in a while, there are those who see everything: the good, the bad, the indifferent, the cold, all of it. It’s these people, I believe, who are or become our closest and dearest friends. They see our bad, or our worst, and they temper it with our compassion, and kindness, and all that is good, and at the end of that conglomeration they still think we’re acceptable as humans, and they embrace us in our entirety.

It’s a nice theory, isn’t it? But have you ever wondered if the sight of us at our worst chips away at our overall niceness, and leaves us looking just a little bit murkier and damaged to our friends? Once you see the darkness in someone it can’t be unseen, and must ultimately influence how one person views another. As much as our friends protest that we are still the same to them, you have to be aware that you’re not really the same in their eyes.

With that in mind, have you ever wanted to push a friend as far as you can just to see how much they will take from you, at the risk of jeopardising the relationship your have with them? Ever wanted to be so darkly destructive that the friendship stands little chance of survival? Ever actually tried it? I only ask, because I have. Tried it. A long time ago, and surprisingly it was satisfying and liberating. And it resulted in the end of a friendship.

But that was okay with me, because my friend was as damaged as I didn’t know I was. It was a doomed friendship from the start. My friend wanted something from me that I was not prepared to give. So I toyed with him. For years I toyed with him. Eventually though, he found out that I was playing games, and he grew a pair and confronted me.

Her discomfort in sitting so close to the patient was evident. She shifted in her seat, forcing herself to be more upright, and appear larger and in control. The leather creaked under the weight of her movement, taking her attention from the pen she was fidgeting with. She’d known the outcome of her patient’s games with friends for six weeks prior to the commencement of treatment, and she didn’t believe a soul like this one could be rehabilitated.

‘And what did you do when he confronted you?’ she asked the patient.

Fingers rapped on the small occasionally table next to the patient’s chair. A brief moment of silence passed between doctor and patient before the response filled the room. It still horrified her to hear the patient’s deeds. A malicious laughed escaped from the patient’s mouth.

Why doctor, you know precisely what I did to him. You have the file in front of you, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find that you read it everyday. Secretly. It’s probably like an addiction for you now, isn’t it doctor? Can’t help but look at the pictures, can you?

The patient’s assessment of the doctor was right. The case file weighed heavily on her mind, and she was unable to stop herself from analysing its contents every single day. Now, sitting opposite the patient, feeling almost provoked into opening it again, the doctor pulled back the front cover of the file, revealing the photograph that had captivated her for the last few weeks. She lowered her eyes to the photograph. The patient did the same.

All that blood, doctor, all that blood.

. . . The end . . .


About Danielle

I like to write. What more is there to know?
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