Irreversible
Another piece from 
secretlysidhe, otherwise known as me. Completely fiction.
Again, just moving stuff over here.
“But Miss. Barton, you have already served your time in prison...shouldn’t you feel like you’ve been punished for your crimes?”
“Mr Shaeffer, have you ever killed anyone?”
The man before me got paid to stay cool under pressure. He has seen and heard it all. I’m probably not the first murderer he has encountered in his career, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last.
“Uhh No, I can’t say that I have personally killed another human being. Not directly so, no.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me how I need to fucking feel.”
Mr. Shaffer merely nodded as he took some notes on his clipboard.
“Tell me about that night and how it made you feel”.
Typical psycho babble from a doctor who thought he knew might know more about myself than I do. I’m tired of telling doctor after doctor “how I felt”. How should I fucking feel? I took the life of three people. Three innocent people.
I knew that this was merely protocol to move onto the next step. I had to tell my story just one more time One more time of re-living the horrors I’ve dreamt about every single night for the last 15 years. I deserved to be in prison, 15 years wasn’t long enough for what I did. I deserved to spend my life rotting in that Hell hole. I should have died there. Or better yet, they should have fucking killed me on their own. It’s what I deserved after all.
“I was leaving a friend’s house. We were celebrating her 21st birthday and been drinking...” I trailed off. I knew he knew the rest. The bastard didn’t really need to hear it, it was all written down in his little notebook and he read all about it before he came in the room. Why must he torture me so by making me re-live it once more?
“Yes, Miss Barton... Continue, please?”
“I’m sorry...it’s just hard sometimes...” I grabbed a tissue from his desk and dabbed at my eyes a bit, and unlike what the courts had said about me at the time, it wasn’t just for “dramatic effect”.
“I was driving down the 91...but that’s the last thing I really remember besides the horrible noise my car made as it crashed into the other car. Something about that made me realize I fucked up and brought me to my senses...”
I paused, half expecting the doctor to push me to keep going, but he just smiled weakly at me as I remembered the horrible crash. The asshole actually smiled at me as I told of the devastation. I knew he was just trying to be polite, but I wanted to smack that smile right off his face. This was easy for him, and in that moment, I hated him for making me do this.
“ When I got out of the car, I went to run...I didn’t need another DWI on my record....but then I heard a little cry coming from the other car. I went over and saw...”
“And what did you see?”
“Goddamn it. You already know what I saw...why do I have I keep telling this to every fucking person I see?”
“It’s all part of the process, Miss. Barton. I’m sorry, but to move onto the next step, we have to go over it one more time. Make sure everything matches up and that this is the right thing for you.”
I wanted to tell him what I really thought of him in that moment, but knew it was better to simply continue with my story as much as it tore me up inside.
“I saw a child. A little boy about 3 years old. He was bleeding from his head, but still alive. Barely. Two adults, his parents most likely, were in the front seat and not moving...” I wanted to stop, but a promise of good things to come beckoned me to continue “ He was so beautiful except for the blood. So precious and beautiful...I couldn’t leave him. I just wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be okay...”
I grabbed another Kleenex.
“So is that when you called for help?”
I nodded. “I pulled out my cellphone and called 9-1-1. I waited by the boys side until help arrived, knowing full well what the consequences would be if I stayed. But I couldn’t leave him. I wanted to save him.”
“Miss Barton, you do know that what you did was very thoughtful, it shows you aren’t a monster, right?”
I wish I could believe him. Countless doctors have told me this through the years, but I never could bring myself to believe it.
“That little boy died that night. While I watched him. He took his last breath, cried his last cry...all because I was selfish and decided to drive after getting wasted at a party.”
“But you were only 21 years old yourself. Young and stupid. You made your mistakes and were punished for them”.
“No. I was not punished enough. Not nearly enough.... That family died that night. A lovely, healthy toddler could have grown up and lived an amazing life had I not been too self absorbed to think of anyone but myself...No, Mr. Shaeffer, I was not punished enough for what I did that night...” I crumpled the tissue in my hand, trying to find the strength to continue.
I took a deep breath before finishing my sentence, thinking carefully about the impact of the next few words carefully “I need to die for what I did. I can no longer live with the consequences of my actions.”
He looked at me closely, as if he wanted to make sure I knew the implications of what was about to happen, and then he set his clipboard down on the table.
“Congratulations Miss Barton. You will get your wish...”
I took the crumpled tissue and wiped my eyes once more, but for the first time in 15 years, they were tears of joy instead of grief.
“Thank you Mr. Shaeffer...this really is what I want.” In that moment, I was thankful that I lived in a country and in a time where this was even legal. I know it wasn’t always the case...but this was most certainly my choice. It’s what I wanted more than anything in the world. If I couldn’t bring those people back, I didn’t deserve to live myself.
The paperwork had been filled out, everything was in order. The “next step” as he liked to call it would begin. I prefer to call it the punishment that I justly deserved, but whatever we called it, I was finally ending the pain once and for all.
secretlysidhe, otherwise known as me. Completely fiction. Again, just moving stuff over here.
“But Miss. Barton, you have already served your time in prison...shouldn’t you feel like you’ve been punished for your crimes?”
“Mr Shaeffer, have you ever killed anyone?”
The man before me got paid to stay cool under pressure. He has seen and heard it all. I’m probably not the first murderer he has encountered in his career, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last.
“Uhh No, I can’t say that I have personally killed another human being. Not directly so, no.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me how I need to fucking feel.”
Mr. Shaffer merely nodded as he took some notes on his clipboard.
“Tell me about that night and how it made you feel”.
Typical psycho babble from a doctor who thought he knew might know more about myself than I do. I’m tired of telling doctor after doctor “how I felt”. How should I fucking feel? I took the life of three people. Three innocent people.
I knew that this was merely protocol to move onto the next step. I had to tell my story just one more time One more time of re-living the horrors I’ve dreamt about every single night for the last 15 years. I deserved to be in prison, 15 years wasn’t long enough for what I did. I deserved to spend my life rotting in that Hell hole. I should have died there. Or better yet, they should have fucking killed me on their own. It’s what I deserved after all.
“I was leaving a friend’s house. We were celebrating her 21st birthday and been drinking...” I trailed off. I knew he knew the rest. The bastard didn’t really need to hear it, it was all written down in his little notebook and he read all about it before he came in the room. Why must he torture me so by making me re-live it once more?
“Yes, Miss Barton... Continue, please?”
“I’m sorry...it’s just hard sometimes...” I grabbed a tissue from his desk and dabbed at my eyes a bit, and unlike what the courts had said about me at the time, it wasn’t just for “dramatic effect”.
“I was driving down the 91...but that’s the last thing I really remember besides the horrible noise my car made as it crashed into the other car. Something about that made me realize I fucked up and brought me to my senses...”
I paused, half expecting the doctor to push me to keep going, but he just smiled weakly at me as I remembered the horrible crash. The asshole actually smiled at me as I told of the devastation. I knew he was just trying to be polite, but I wanted to smack that smile right off his face. This was easy for him, and in that moment, I hated him for making me do this.
“ When I got out of the car, I went to run...I didn’t need another DWI on my record....but then I heard a little cry coming from the other car. I went over and saw...”
“And what did you see?”
“Goddamn it. You already know what I saw...why do I have I keep telling this to every fucking person I see?”
“It’s all part of the process, Miss. Barton. I’m sorry, but to move onto the next step, we have to go over it one more time. Make sure everything matches up and that this is the right thing for you.”
I wanted to tell him what I really thought of him in that moment, but knew it was better to simply continue with my story as much as it tore me up inside.
“I saw a child. A little boy about 3 years old. He was bleeding from his head, but still alive. Barely. Two adults, his parents most likely, were in the front seat and not moving...” I wanted to stop, but a promise of good things to come beckoned me to continue “ He was so beautiful except for the blood. So precious and beautiful...I couldn’t leave him. I just wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be okay...”
I grabbed another Kleenex.
“So is that when you called for help?”
I nodded. “I pulled out my cellphone and called 9-1-1. I waited by the boys side until help arrived, knowing full well what the consequences would be if I stayed. But I couldn’t leave him. I wanted to save him.”
“Miss Barton, you do know that what you did was very thoughtful, it shows you aren’t a monster, right?”
I wish I could believe him. Countless doctors have told me this through the years, but I never could bring myself to believe it.
“That little boy died that night. While I watched him. He took his last breath, cried his last cry...all because I was selfish and decided to drive after getting wasted at a party.”
“But you were only 21 years old yourself. Young and stupid. You made your mistakes and were punished for them”.
“No. I was not punished enough. Not nearly enough.... That family died that night. A lovely, healthy toddler could have grown up and lived an amazing life had I not been too self absorbed to think of anyone but myself...No, Mr. Shaeffer, I was not punished enough for what I did that night...” I crumpled the tissue in my hand, trying to find the strength to continue.
I took a deep breath before finishing my sentence, thinking carefully about the impact of the next few words carefully “I need to die for what I did. I can no longer live with the consequences of my actions.”
He looked at me closely, as if he wanted to make sure I knew the implications of what was about to happen, and then he set his clipboard down on the table.
“Congratulations Miss Barton. You will get your wish...”
I took the crumpled tissue and wiped my eyes once more, but for the first time in 15 years, they were tears of joy instead of grief.
“Thank you Mr. Shaeffer...this really is what I want.” In that moment, I was thankful that I lived in a country and in a time where this was even legal. I know it wasn’t always the case...but this was most certainly my choice. It’s what I wanted more than anything in the world. If I couldn’t bring those people back, I didn’t deserve to live myself.
The paperwork had been filled out, everything was in order. The “next step” as he liked to call it would begin. I prefer to call it the punishment that I justly deserved, but whatever we called it, I was finally ending the pain once and for all.