Neurosis: a relatively mild mental illness that is not caused by organic disease, involving symptoms of stress (depression, anxiety, obsessive behaviour, hypochondria) but not a radical loss of touch with reality.
It was hot. Too hot in fact. The bright green walls seemed to bounce the heat back and forth around the tiny room making my shirt stick to me like a second skin, heavy and… ugh… sticky. The couch I sat on was just as sticky, clinging to my arms and legs and peeling off my skin every time I lifted a leg or an arm. I gazed up at the wooden fan above, spinning lazily, every few seconds tilting as though about to come crashing down but rectifying itself in mid spin. I realized it was there as just a decoration, to give the illusion that this waiting room wasn’t as hot as it actually was, but I’d caught on. I’d caught on quick. That’s what growing boys like myself do, we catch on quick.
I gazed down at my lap, at the old yet still glossy magazine that was flipped open to a page displaying various D.I.Y tips for “the working woman”. As a young boy tinkering away at stuff at home, this was the only page in the entire magazine that was appealing, well that and the media page displaying movies from way back when. Nonetheless this was all a distraction, pulling our attention away from the heat – and the deathly stare from the woman at the reception desk. She was scary. Her makeup was way too thick, her face too pale and her lips too bright with blue shades on her eyelids; surely she was hiding something below all that makeup. Had to be.
I looked up at my mom but she was too engrossed in her own glossy magazine to be disturbed. Her bright brown eyes seemed to be glazed over, her mouth parted in deep concentration. I looked off to the side and almost yelped in freight. Big dark eyes stared down at me, framed by thick round spectacles, metallic and gleaming in the bright light. The man hushed me reassuringly, his thin bony hand reaching out to ruffle my hair. I tried to pull away but could not move. He scared me that much.
“Hi there, I’m the doctor.” he whispered. It was then that I realized how quiet the waiting room had been – there had been no sound, not even the tick of the clock nor the shuffle of a turning page. I tried to speak but gulped instead, the sound louder than I’d expected. He frowned at me, his thin eyebrows furrowed and his lips turning into a frown
“A little control if you don’t mind?” He whispered again, quickly grabbing my arm and lifting me up from my seat; my arms and legs peeled off the couch with a ripping sound, echoing through the entire room. The receptionist’s head swung so quickly towards me I thought she’d get whiplash and my mom’s eyes lifted long enough from the magazine to give me a deathly stare before all three adults simultaneously pouted their lips,
The doctor pulled me into his office, a room slightly bigger than the waiting room but just as hot and even more ghastly. The bright green paint seemed to be trying to blind me along with the metallic utensils and instruments lining the walls like some sort of souvenirs. He plopped me down a backless seat covered in plastic while he hurriedly made his way around his wooden desk to sit cautiously down on his dark leather seat, making no noise at all.
“I’m glad your mom booked you in for this general check up. You never know when germs, viruses and the like could come creeping in to your system and infect it, festering inside your body until you are seeping mucus and spewing more of them with each cough and sneeze. Yuck.” The doctors face cringed at the thought. He immediately reached for a bottle of disinfectant within his desk, spraying his hands and rubbing them together swiftly before spraying the handle of the desk drawer too. Once that was done he softened.
“Well let’s get started hey – I see you…need some cleaning and much much much disinfecting.” He said to me. “Come to the examination room please.” He gestured to a room off to the side, closed off by a bright white cloth. I reached out to open it but a hand quickly snatched the cloth away, startling me.
“Oh don’t touch, please.” The doctor said with a handful of cloth and a bottle of disinfectant in the other. He ushered me in, hurrying to disinfect and then open one of the cabinets to pull out a long sheet of plastic which he then placed and smoothed over his examination table.
“Lie down please” he said. I lay on the plastic, watching him cringe with each wiggle I made on it. His nose scrunched to show disgust and I looked down at myself to see what the issue was about. Not seeing anything dirty I relented to keeping still but a part of me felt rather mischievous. I smiled genuinely at him, watching his face, watching for a reaction as I reached for my nose. At first he eyed me curiously, an amused half-smile on his face. The contortions of his face began as I stuck my finger into my nose, finding a gooey slimy mess before pulling it out and seeing the green-yellow mucuous resting on my finger. The look of disgust and horror on the man’s face was priceless. As he turned to reach for the disinfectant, I reached up towards the man’s crisp white doctors coat, and wiped the gunk on it. He turned quickly in his seat, rising as he did and looking down at his coat where my slimy mess had left a trail. Without pause the doctor reached into his inner pocket to reveal a blade of sorts, his eyes bulging behind his thick glasses. With murderous intent he lifted the knife up into the air, the action freezing my blood cold.
“It’s because of kids like you that I am what I am, a germaphobe. I try always to be meticulous, to be crisp – clean. Oh but no, there is always that one kid but oh… but that all ends today… starting. With. You. Muhahahahahah!”
Well this turned out a bit different. What provokes a person to become a villain anyway?