Fiction. Story of President of US who has emotional problems.Incomplete.
|Tough decision that one. “What do you think I should do?” he asked panicky. “I think you should…get a drink.”
He got up and picked up a water bottle. “Now what?”
“I think you should make a decision fast.” Said another.
“I think we will continue negotiating,” he said out loud.
Good choice he thought.
“thanks,” he said out loud.
Now he felt relieved. For now at least, he didn’t feel like the world was falling into him like he often did. For now at least, he was safe.
But did the voices go away? No. And soon they were criticizing his decision. “that was a poor decision.”
“how did you make through high school?” one asked as though he were stupid.
“stupid, stupid, stupid. You are stupid. You must be the most stupid person on the planet.” Another one said.
“Why didn’t you wait for us to help you?” said another one.
He felt boxed in again. “I’m stupid,” he muttered.
“What was that, sir.” Said his white house chief.
“Uh, nothing.” He said. He tried to pull himself together. “That’s it.”
Meanwhile the voices were quieter but still there. They whispered to him and to each other. He felt like He wanted to yell at them.
“Go away.” He said not very convincingly. They whispered to him louder. “Go away.” He said again. He wanted to kick and scream and make them go away. Finally, he did. He fell on his desk and started to scream and kick and yell to go away. But the voices kept getting louder.
The chief picked up the phone. “It’s happening again, sir.” He said to someone.
“okay. Make sure everyone is gone. The doctor is coming right up.”
He hung up and went into the oval office. He sat in a chair and waited for the doctor. He felt sorry he couldn’t help the President. But he had a duty to conceal the condition. He was still a good president, he told himself.
There was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” He called out. “It’s Doctor Breis, Jake.” Jake Hegman opened the door a crack, making sure it really was the doctor. Without a word, he opened it a little more letting Breis slip in. “He’s quiet now.” He said softly.
Dr. Bries nodded. He went over to the President and took his pulse. He tried to be as gentle as he could. Sometimes the President would scream, run around, and call him a demon. The President looked at him wildly but stayed silent. He said quietly to him, “What are they saying?”
The President grasped his arm tightly. “They tell me that I’m a demon.” His eyes were wide and he could see tears. “You are not a demon. You are Gabriel, the angel.” The President nodded slowly. He blinked.
Dr. Breis had no choice. He had found out the hard way that the only way to fight
The President’s schizophrenia was to feed it in other ways. It was so deep, intense, and he needed to control it quickly before anyone noticed. It wasn’t ethical but he wasn’t thinking ethical. He was thinking national security. He winced. And then steeled himself. He knew it wasn’t along the Hippocratic oath but he was different. He was the only doctor who the staff trusted for this. For good or for bad.
(to be continued)