Chapter Fifteen
It was not impossible to assume that the many activities, were his own... He’d read about them in posed, behavior of superior and inferior-designs, in its thinking... As he entered his office, laying his-keys on his desk. When he was installed in extent and recourse, it-was remodeled to suit his level-attained, achievement. He had a nap-sack given him by his-wife. He knew he’d accomplished goals and his work was imminently, faithful and abased. The alarm was attended-to with it being reported to H.Q. Chief Wilcox. He was called, and told his staff to keep-track of a certain-doctor. No one, was told what Chief Wilcox was considering, but Peter-was the growing-suspect of the un-motive, phenomena. The Chief, was going to express-to hospital-personnel... Like a suspecting-’rabbit’, he did want to ignore the potential, and obvious-regency of his occupation... A simple-objective of reclusion, could be the ‘culprit’ of destruction, and drastic. Wilcox, once raised-them as pets and many though ‘cute and furry’, when left alone with their peers raised a voice over the entire-pen. But a doctor, an associate-head a man firmly, set in profile. Yet the theories and thoughts of police-science explained it, but he didn’t want to think, too hard. He had a hardiness that was best, by brevity.
...Peter sat studying his charts of his-patients. By there psychological, clinical, social and medical alluding. He was to analyze their improvements, by charting and addendum. They-all were a socialism being treated in group-therapy. He examined, and reexamined the complexes, responses and programs in infliction-understood and evaluated. The incident, was reported-to authorities. A full-evacuation, was throttled by a Chief, but was kept-in the police-report. Chief Wilcox, realized someone was carrying-out violence with superior-observations, acute-understanding of the hospital... A serial-culprit, perpetrated by breach-of sophistication... The security-Chief, realized something had to be done before someone was hurt. He called the detective-squad of Baltimore. They would be able to take it from there. Effectively, putting more ‘accurate’ hands to reveal the assailant. Wilcox, thought not to tell them of his rather ‘erratic’-inclination of who it might-be. Affronting, a quite high-ranking doctor, might mean an end to a reputation, he’d worked hard-for.
Peter refused to embrace his fallen-thoughts. ...If anything, it was on the edge of sentiment and sincerity of self-derision. A derision seriously, placate. An ‘immorality’ set-on ‘duplicity’, disjunctive discharge, and an immature-duplicity. To implore a truly nascent-design, to a ‘metaphoric’-issue was, as his clients, too much to assume at any time... His clients usually, improved-provided a distance from their succinct-devising inhibitions. In that nap-sack was the pervasive-defective of a surreal-man of the healing-arts... As he read, he thought-back about his youth, of ex-ordinate issues, unascertained. Of the grade, if alluding, and the rather drastic-need to ‘avoid’-incursion by excursion... He wanted another-chance to act as he wanted. Of a boy, so typical he could look-back and be unregretful. The, in-auspicious, severance in the many plots dominating a boy, youth and man... He only looked-back because things were so good through-out his life. He thought about his-clients as he; what would he be fallen-under? It was both in front of him and behind, was the seated edifice of certainty, duty and devotion. The hard and fast-rule to only disengage; actuate, accommodate and command.
The ‘lamina’, of terms, facts and factors would advance and evolve... He’d been quite exquisite in his job. From the many purporting, the actuary-terms of basing; expounding, exports and imports... The many technical ex parte in revisions, extrapolations and concisions. Was it excision by insight and ‘terms’... Bequeath to him from a deceased brother, or the deep-remorse or unselfish-exoneration? A compelling retinue of abject and indenture. Of privacy, supplicate in virtual. A strained retinue, to be a leveling and in a maniacal-contention. The extent-essence of a conveying and conducive-expression. A comprehensively, incessant and categorical-relevance and intensive-relegation. If anyone found-out, or anyone else knew, he’d be decommissioned... He knew the revelations, and reverences of executive, professional and medical ethics. He couldn’t be sure of anything any more. He was withstanding a lot. Yet to be imperiling, both divided and allayed-in remonstration. His-mind ‘waked’ to aggrandize the ‘luminous’-terms, abashed. Yet, too much was at stake. Was it really, a term of sophisticate-endearment that he couldn’t say.
The recent-tentative of death, reversion, tolerance and tempestuous-events, all acted-to point to an allot-of-interests... It was beginning-to get to him. Or was it, he was at the epitome of a slowly-falling temptation... He wasn’t, in all his experiences, sure of it being his ‘pinions’. An emotion-in life, is a conferred addendum-of-thinking, events and anticipations. Which were exactly, what he was experiencing. In all his theorems, schematics, exactions to respond which every individual whose human. Yet his skills divorced all that. An compellation of truism-agnostics, only complicated by being on the outside looking-in. Was it a ‘travesty’-of judgment, or was the ordinal-context private, personal and prescriptive. The designs, he was deliberating were the foster of one’s perfusion; the ignoring he wanted to find reasoning in pretext, pretense and propriety. He could not face-by technical-policy. So as a doctor, he had to realize perhaps, he needed care. Something a good-doctor had to be honest to ‘know’; so perhaps, he wasn’t to a longer-capable as a doctor, and as a patient. This with the reality of every life, is one of the most-intimate. Realism, relevance and religion are from human-rationale from which no one, could fully understand. Was he becoming, ‘cold’ in relegation to terms. Which, in ultimate endeavor, meant becoming an augment of objective, insincerity. Was he to search his-heart for a ruing-endeavor, of which there was ‘few’.
With all his fortune, affirm and focus; life’s simplicity could be more, a disturbance... His higher-ups, of which he was becoming, were at the ground of his-emotions. And the many employer-incentives went from work to wariness; it was not frivolous but his founding, ‘futility’. He was no-longer a practitioner but provocateur, in the instance-of-dispassion. If he’d put himself in the forefront; put himself, ahead of the problem. Yet it was too late, to obvious-now or was he too diligent to see, to understand, to accept; that he was getting-into was far above his head. Nearing the head of medical-facility, and now, engaging-contentions. An emulation in a post-mortem, to the case-study in autonomic-incursion. Was it fear to face, or fault to be blamed. He would dream of freer-times of the enjoyment and fun of visiting recreation-parks, with his sisters and lately, his young-daughter and wife-laughing, during bright sunny and warm times; not thinking of work. And then in his-stoic-ism; the positive-listening to his superior in his dry-bellowing. ...Of his brown-teeth and sharp smoky-smelly breath... As his deep-relegation to job, duty and purpose-trying to remain adoring to a ‘cause’...
It began 6-years in, perhaps the many acts of personnel-parallels and disadvantages implied, imposed and implemented to duty-decided and definitive... All the human and humanistic-visions taken to task. As the many integrals of time taught and testament; and the many ordinal-essences proved and provided. Was it quintessential or a ‘qualm’, he was sure perhaps he could never be sure... If it went-on any longer what might occur. He-read deeply, on the subject over the years; from impulse, admissible and magnanimous; he’d been in some of the deepest, darkest-behaviors and impulses. His set with a demurring, ambiguity and demote. He could begin analyzing himself, but he knew that would be foolish. Maybe it had become just that. In the illusion of ‘Sherlock Holmes’, a ‘Dr. Moriarity’, in the vision of might and madness, had to do with personal promiscuity. Yet many are minds of the ‘motif’, and remissive.
What lay ahead was the work, place and pension of his life and logging... The area of idea and inspirational were again to be set, before him. He was internally, thinking as the many mentalities and magnitudes are of invoice and virtual. He couldn’t be sure. Yet he kept one last per-due
, the last-clause of a prevision. The deep-sinking, absolving-to perhaps, implement in new trials of personal-exploitation. He couldn’t face the dimension without an exoneration, or concealment. Tomorrow, would be like no other and today, a resolving of waning-explication. Defined and afforded, the distance from ‘fragile’-conviction to adamant reservation; in the unwise and derogative, are backed in ‘plots’ and ‘ploys’; predicate to a prime-order against full-function and conviction. Was there a newly, done dire-need, he refused to think about. He knew things would never be the same.
The intensity-of emotion came with 15-hours of work. Being, both a divvied and divide; that was a ‘break’ of autonomy. Of work and winsome; tool and tolerance, of the interstices and investing envelope from the terms of develop to the terse-of temptation. He was now a submissive; though, trained he wasn’t sure if there was a significant, imperil or prodigious. At the ground of his-being was in the deterring-relevance. As he went-off to work, kissing his wife ‘good-bye’ and wondered how would it end. He summoned his strength and resided to reenact a ‘new’-accord. He didn’t seem urgent or excited, over time, the intimacy-of work; unwell, within the bounds of reliance... The several-incidents which happened to Dr. Doule, that someone singled-him out was still on agitation at the work-place. There had always been issues at work, yet now the new implications were his. As adamant as it had ever been now, he was looking from the inside-out. An exterior-of obligation an interior-of rebuke and concision. He maintained his-duties, yet things began to become distorted and ‘murky’. The design-therapy became back-biting, duly and enamoring, ‘concaved‘... The once clear-vision of duty, became an entailing of personal-entreating.
He began perceiving, reorienting and reverting a sensitive-resolve. He was starting, what he knew was a downward-spiral. He kept grasping at ‘straws’, aligning and re-aligning terms, tentative and travail-any way, in order to get a hold on his-mind... He eventually, became composed, careful, and considerate of his proficient-duties. In the long, ‘so long’ of things he evolved to be a competent-therapist yet never-fully knowing what his clients experienced. Like Freud, he could experience the ‘strange’-mentality of other men in ‘madness’. This was the ‘bottom’ of the-professional and a mistaken, inquiry... The great-scientist, was too brave for his own good. But results, did occur. With his new-impressions, he felt a deep-foreboding in an elaborate-disquiet and disconnect, an empty-toll of energy. It focused-on the intemperate and evasive, a house-built then falling in on-itself. The ‘sand’ under a pillar, with the wind-unwanted in each instance falling and revoking-itself.
He began to become distracted overly, concentrated and off-sided... He-tried to respond, and avoid his peculiar-idioms then finding himself-oddly, impaired. What was once solid-devotion became a disinterested-aloft. He-tried to train his-mind on certain-things, but he could not. He was in his-office by twelve-noon. There, he-wanted to know were it all started...that’s when Dr. Doule phoned. ‘How are things ole Man?’ ‘Great. Couldn’t be better.’ ...’When you coming-back?’ ‘It seems I won’t be coming-in until next Wednesday.’ ...’The execs wanted me to be there for the new-floor opening.’ ...’And I might as well be the one to tell you, you’re the new-Head of 3.’ ‘...Couldn’t see it happen to a better doctor...’ ‘They should be orienting you by the weekend.’ ‘...Good luck, ole Joe’... Now he his-arch-nemesis was no longer the staunch-’overseer’. He felt fear and anger, disorientation and loneliness-cursed and confused, honored and over-barren with the times he put in, it couldn’t have turned-out-better. Yet, in his-world, he was suffering with a daunting, menacing-disaffect.
He-felt someone had always been there to obviate his true-’will’, and ‘right’. ...That he-was the ‘strongest point’, while all the weak-points had loomed-upon him. All the quests and qualms, always going awry. The many facets, factors and functions which lead-up to this point-all was set upon in personal-vision. Was there honor, or in-ordinal repose, he could be sure. His once ‘luminal’-virtue fell-into an disorganized, willing-dysfunction. One that with all the calling of his work, fell directly upon him. It became a cavalcade, of remission, admission and eventual-mission of which-all were the once consummate details of his-life. He wasn’t sure that-in his adamant-injection, if all, would be well... He was prepping to leave when the Chief-executive and two associate-executives, walked-in. ...’Dr. McBride, our brand-new head of 3’... ‘I must express our decision that you are our choice best of all our Unit-staff, we’ve picked you.’ ‘There will be a formal-ceremony, tomorrow. We wish you, all the best.’ ...’We couldn’t have decided, without Dr. Doule’s approval’... After the congratulations and new-partitions, he was told to move into Dr. Doule’s office by the end of the month. He had to take a deep-breath.
In the ‘occlusion’ of life’s many parallels, a parabolic and parables-things, wax and wane. Putting too much into anything was always not good. Dr. McBride now, had new-oracles to his life. What could develop in the offering, the instance in the furthered instilling. Devastation, was not an option. His protocol and prolog was fading. Yet, could this still be the ‘best’-thing...
Two months later, things were in expectation. Dr. Doule, was no-longer a member-of 3, but Head of Therapeutics and Clinical systems. ‘Peter’, as he was now known, was more laid-back. But his-relationship with his one-time superior, was less and less... The disturbance-once, thought criminal; had faded. Peter relaxed more and adjusted to his new-role in life. Was his problems over, that could be forgot and forgiven in what he believed Dr. Doule had done to him? As he was always, too busy he began to forget and his emotional-disturbances faded. A renewed-exoneration of terms soon flowered from ‘immaterial’ and lax, to become dutiful and determined.
The many accords in what he experienced were quasi-emphatic, psychic-terms. All the ‘plurals’ were labeled in terms. As the terms were experienced in-theory, all the textbook-style cases... He could have been both, yet any existential experience passes-with time. Many mental-professionals learn the many ‘classic’-cases representing courses, studies, internships and experiences-one separates oneself from such contentions. It is merely, wiped-away by stoicism and duty. A superior-agnosticism of the field that is born, builds and grows... Emulated past-deciding by implicit, mitigation and superlative-rates to hide behind, be thrust into and oversee. ...As though it was a modern and ‘smug’-career. If more therapist went-in with oblivious dedication-only to be subdivided away-from learning, by enviable-professionalism. Becoming instead a ‘determiner’ of asserting, sophisticate-’fate’. Not becoming a ‘fatality’ of human-derision. As if bequeathing, one’s deeding-recourse, becoming ‘cold’-domination... The many ‘spring-boxes’ in the professionally, trained goes-through continual-isolates, and insulates, from those just needing-professional-identification. It became an anti-climatic ‘reality’, and the patient and professional, must work from-there.
It’s a ‘skullduggery’-realism, ratified by intrinsic-absolving... And so, the energy of any major-field with all the learned-academics put-up in an ‘all’-demonstrating in-device, protocol and wretched-relativism... ...Dr. Peter in all his-time and career had both, realized the human-con-function, and dual-dysfunction in ‘life’. From empowering to imperil, his-condition became improvised, imposing. An allocation-pervasion coddled-by time, treatise and trial. Which reinforced a deeper-mobility. Enduring, deepening and adopting-the abreast of ‘emboss’ from the many devotions-of denomination. What was a profile and ‘pervasion’, occupying the preeminence of what’s seeding-born of sophisticate, in over-laying dignity. Dr. Peter, was only human, he’d never know the actual-reality of what is ‘mortal’-mentality. He was a confident individual yet now knew life was not ‘perfect’. He was no caricature, no enigma, no parametric but the living, breathing being in the higher-scope, and scale-of-life. Though, he rarely thought about it any more, he came to be resolved that it was
best left-behind. And what the better-piece of his life, proved him: ‘normal’, and alive. So he could possibly, chalk it up-to living. He understand it was his private-ending only feeling-slightly, guilty for not talking to his-wife and daughter, but as his-training, personal problems were kept that way.
In the many essences of work and residing, the concord-of vision and virtue that, in ultimate-concision, was the virtual-implication. Most psyche is a resolve of self-to-situation. Men and women act as entities and not-absolutes. From absolutes, are principles, pinnacle of pretenses, and pragmatics, learned to advance and advocate as we condone by terms. Peter was experiencing something pseudo-complicit, yet in his knowledge to perceive any ‘different’, there would still be an off-handed, in-ordination. Much of psychology is compelling, the changing-of impact, of condoning an inverse-avenue of advantage, and availing. To keep it a secret was a disadvantage to both-individual and society. Yet, in the human-element, there is ‘rescue’ as residual, in residing and reverence in the accolade-of perception, presiding and prevalence. The instinct-of calling and conveying, are all the relative vocal-convergence in-edifice and operation. The incentive rather ‘anew’, or anointed the choices are treatise or troubled, in considerate-convocation. So time and terms continued, without inevitable-remonstration. Was it of actuality, enacting or pervading-opportunities to ‘heal’ or change being still, incentive to be accounting of a competent-preclusion. The errant-terms become ‘deserts’, of defining and devising. In what is an ethical-decision.
Caveat and accordance, are central-visages of technique and chance, in the adventure-of ardent. Precipitous, in all, is the urgency to come of terms in the magnitude-of advent and coalition. The much malign-mission, to confess and converging-of temptation, attest and the typical-contentions expert capacity. In the reward-of-duty and the mentality-of an emerging-emulation of vice and venture. A perception of self-vocal, and propounding. As the series-of thoughts, theories and thematic-we rely-on a terminate-infliction. The many preliminary, that consist and confess-of trial and temporal-tumult. An invective-vigil to persist and exact, the decided-delivering. From the price and converse-comprehension in the versification condoned-to persist in accounting-actual. If he could thread the profound-’needle’ of exonerate-’pretext’. A classic-case of profession and predicative, an infinite-document and derision, come with skill and adoption. There is a panoply, given to pro-licit; that advantage and avocation-envelope in plot and permissive. If we can see one’s faults semantics-enough, we guide ourselves a pugnacious pro-epistemology, yet this is the improbable-instance. We are voyagers, in unknown-seas.
Peter’s work did not come back-on itself. Surely, he thought he was quite an extraordinary-individual. And what happened was a rare-incident. It was probably just an un-tethered emotion. With all the apprising and contentions, his could be forgot. After all, he was forlorn or lonely, in what was an intimate-occurrence. He could adapt, ‘erase’ what was still mending, in exact instance. He didn’t even think about it any-more. A desisting that could be ‘killed’, and forgotten, in the endemic-incentives of living. His work, in pre-sounding-’purpose’, could be extinguished... Lanced, like a ‘cyst’-of unwanted-tissue. He was above-it, an inanimate price-paid by the duty, dependence and self-judgment. By which he-knew by work, reputation and resolve all-weighed, in his favor... Peter rarely thought about Dr. Doule and the embarrassing-prospect, and even-harder perspective-to decide and judge. Realizing he was now, ‘divorced’-from it. Giving it-up for a chanced-opportunity to further-what he didn’t show even to himself. The ‘raw’-absolve and disconnect from ‘dark-psyche’... Which had nearly expressed-itself in what was a deepened, distorted-way... A sorted, dysfunction and destructive point-of view. Which having been stoked-in the interstitial-’illogic’ by in-depth, instigation. He didn’t question, imply or implicate by what was an averse in tolerated and corrupted-concomitance.
There was no-pinnacle, no-plan to which to set a settling; in accepting, account or composing. The ‘prospect’, was too daunting-to him. In his-last corporate-’right’, he let-it be an inordinate-acceptance. ‘He’, was his own-judge in what had happened... As such, the self-suspicion, was exonerated. He-considered himself, ‘free’ to move-forward. His-position, his-career and his-family were kept-out of this ‘verdict’. Ignoring responsibility, competence and auspicious was the tantamount-adjuring... ...A conveying of indignation to virtually, espouse in consistent-adjudication; in a convening, and invoking-division proving self-propriety. An apprehension, to forget. ...To forget in ‘entirety’ and interceding, by self-approval. A ‘penalty’-to wipe-away and dissolve-away in-intrinsic. Using, only the tact-of certain-abandonment; and the essence of a disposal. ...An ‘evocation’ that could, in-reality, be the instance of devaluing his-entire career...
Like the ‘Profile of Dorian Grey’, his secret would be a pact with the devil-inside, too much was at stake. In an admissive, he-allowed himself to ‘forget’ and ignore any-connection to forgiveness. A practitioner-who couldn’t rely on practicality, or proving. There was just, an expound of ‘explication’. He came-back to enjoy himself in-life. ...Of completing-work, carrying-out duties and the ‘virtually’, real-manifest of competence... He’d even considered Dr. Doule, as a comport-of admission; but he-realized rather irrelevantly, as an ‘assists’ to its forgotten, in-volition... His practice grew into a proving-profoundness, in life. Of intensity and caring-intention... He prospered, progressed and pro-sounded as Head Unit-3. A composing of being reborn, re-expressed and remunerative to assert, access and actuate in true resolute-dimension.
Emulating-in his new-design, he was ‘newly-designed’. He was transfixed, in an elaborate inculcation-of ‘ideas’ and invention; as diametric-design of figurative and fruition-to redeveloped in-intricacy. A suggestive-artifice and impetus to be augment, in particular. If anything, the new-amelioration of operative and invention to re-find a renewed-relying. A novel-predicative, in convening and advising, a preeminent-profile of perception and exoneration. A very-detracting that as a human-being-adjured and found an impetus, as which to revitalize his-work... Never-’thinking’ of the preeminent, provocation... He eventually, laid-off the thought of the death of his friend. Perhaps, it was a growth-experience an immature experience from deep-down... Of a loneliness-best left in the past.
The times passed, the people moved-on, and the aspects-refocused. Yet Dr. Doule had remained-in his inimitable-style... Dr. Peter had resounded-in his work, enterprising and resolution; to his co-workers and friends. His-wife became a first-rate CEO of a real estate company, his daughter was in he second-year of graduate school. Brutus was bred and they kept two-puppies and named them Nero and Eloise; and they bought a summer-home on the beach in Florida. With his increase-tenure his base-salary grew to 6-figures and weeks off. Once a hands-on doctor, now an executive in program and training. His old-position was now held by two-doctors showing his once proficiency. The one-of-a-kind life, was truly con-functional. A presence of pre-variation and progressing, perceived. It was almost enigmatic, how the rewards resided, and were bequeathed. A perhaps, pressing-of advent. But his potential-providence was about to be resounded. The brother of Pat Smith met up with Peter and his realization-of former-circumstances, by perplexity.
...6’ 1” tall, a large black-man was now living-in Florida... He was not at the funeral but he’d heard of a man coming to his-sister’s funeral to offer his condolences... ‘...Patty didn’t get out much, she worked, went shopping, and went home...’ She’d shared with him that he was a friend-where an old-woman could use one... ‘I loved my sister but she was set-in her ways...’ ‘Since Tommy, my brother in-law died she kept-on, with those ungodly kids...’ ‘She loved them, but without their father...they were virtually, on the loose’... -He was cold and professional to him. He seemed to a feel that his mood was no longer open to him. Peter simply wished him well and they
parted ways. He figured he had nothing in common with him. And that the past was best left there. But his friend’s brother walked away disappointed. Time passed till one day he was watching the News when the brother’s mug-shot appeared. He was under-arrest for double-murder. He’d killed his nephew and niece on a drunken tirade, the day before. He saw the arrest and escort into the police-cruiser. They said he’d be taken to a mental hospital for evaluation and whether if he could stand trial. He knew there was little he could do. Curious, he thought he’d look into the case. Brought-in two-days, later he was sent to second floor East-Dr. Doule’s Unit. He was going to visit P. O.’s office. Which he did, rarely.
Dr. Doule was on-call, and in his-office... ‘...Why sure, I’ve heard of this case. A case of murder-by ‘drunkenness’, perhaps domestic-abuse; a classic case of developmental derision...’ ‘Probably, a life long mental-implicit’... ‘Why?’ Dr. Peter only said he was curious. He didn’t explain that he had as personal-insight in the case. That he’d known him only for a short-time... Dr. Doule, usually, didn’t know what he wanted and didn’t care. That, was at the time. Now he wanted to talk to him, to understand what he was trying to do. Murder, was not a ‘potential-alternative’... Now, James Smith and Tyra Smith were dead. Two of the last of Patty’s ‘legacy’ had been extinguished by a caring brother. It was a sad-end to what was a proud-story, and what was a benefit; he and others gained from her ‘grand’-heart and determination. At first, he only wanted to assist his-friend’s brother, a loyalty he’d let die with his own experience. An experience bitter-sweet and further quixotic, though he didn’t want that back in his life he saw the necessary temerity and ex-temperate of a professional need. With it all he overcame yet the history of someone-proved disappointing. And he knew that ‘disappointment’, there was his protocol reproved, exhortation-of loneliness and longing which took years to fully find-extenuate.
The passion, which had involuntarily entered his life had taken a turn for the worse, as he knew it, was his own; and also that experience was necessary, in a way, in his mourning. Perhaps he sat too high or maybe wanted too much from the relationship or the basic-reset of an accordance not being fully able to realize... For whatever it was, he might get a second-chance to erect and rectify what had been a presence and pressure of loss. He wanted to only expose the better-side of who he was, prove that his purpose in life could prove-worthy. ...Dr. Doule, sat at the top of such a contention. There would be a jury, a filed-crime. Publicity, D.A. And mental-evaluation with a psychiatrist taking the lead. ...He’d be a smug-professional probably brought in by state-D. A. It might be blown out of proportion, or a quick case of Kangaroo Court by some over-zealous judge... He’d seen men pressed into a zeal of design of a case only, saved by a competent P. D. who knew his rounds.
End.
Mind-A suspense novel. Page 15
