"I'm afraid you're just hallucinating again," Dr. Hobb said, and suddenly he was leaning over her, and grasping her jaw roughly in one hand. "Now, Evelyn," he said, and his voice kept that same distant, professional tone, as though he were simply speaking to her in his office. "We have some things to discuss. Tell me about the Doctor."
His fingers were digging into her soft flesh, bruising, and she tried to pull away. "You're hurting me," she gasped, and he squeezed harder as she struggled ineffectually against the restraints.
"Evelyn, I'm not even touching you," he said in that infuriatingly pleasant, everyday voice as he tightened his grip even more. "You're imagining this. Just like you imagined the other times you claimed I hurt you. Do you remember? You can't trust your perceptions, Evelyn. They aren't real." She remembered then the interrogations, as he had pressed her for information about her life, her travels and her Travels, and always, always about the Doctor. She remembered that the creature itself had commanded her to give the information asked for, and it was a blur, but Dr. Hobb had muttered something about her being resistant to post-hypnotic suggestion for some reason, that they needed to break down her mind first, her will (he seemed paradoxically to know the creature was there, even though he didn't always remember it, and how did that even work?). She remembered how she would wake later with no memory of what had happened, covered with bruises and cuts and electric burns, and Dr. Hobb would say that she had hurt herself and needed direct observation and heavy chemical restraint (and what sort of nurses did they employ here that believed these wounds were self-inflicted?), and they would treat the injuries and then pump her full of sedatives that would leave her limp and half-conscious.
She writhed against her bonds and tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast. The creature stood behind him still, chirring as it watched. "Tell me about the Doctor," Hobb said again.
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timeasmymeasure
Evelyn (Part 2)
Date: 2015-09-15 04:48 pm (UTC)His fingers were digging into her soft flesh, bruising, and she tried to pull away. "You're hurting me," she gasped, and he squeezed harder as she struggled ineffectually against the restraints.
"Evelyn, I'm not even touching you," he said in that infuriatingly pleasant, everyday voice as he tightened his grip even more. "You're imagining this. Just like you imagined the other times you claimed I hurt you. Do you remember? You can't trust your perceptions, Evelyn. They aren't real." She remembered then the interrogations, as he had pressed her for information about her life, her travels and her Travels, and always, always about the Doctor. She remembered that the creature itself had commanded her to give the information asked for, and it was a blur, but Dr. Hobb had muttered something about her being resistant to post-hypnotic suggestion for some reason, that they needed to break down her mind first, her will (he seemed paradoxically to know the creature was there, even though he didn't always remember it, and how did that even work?). She remembered how she would wake later with no memory of what had happened, covered with bruises and cuts and electric burns, and Dr. Hobb would say that she had hurt herself and needed direct observation and heavy chemical restraint (and what sort of nurses did they employ here that believed these wounds were self-inflicted?), and they would treat the injuries and then pump her full of sedatives that would leave her limp and half-conscious.
She writhed against her bonds and tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast. The creature stood behind him still, chirring as it watched. "Tell me about the Doctor," Hobb said again.
"Go to hell!" she hissed, and spit in his face.