As Steele has helpfully pointed out in past comments, I am not a real doctor. I do not claim to be one, despite my years of schooling in medicine, but I do my absolute best to ensure that every patient I see is treated well and has benefited at least slightly from my intervention. This applies especially to this team: what many of us have come to consider our family.
When I went to give Todd his sedatives last night, I had the opportunity to speak to all three personalities inhabiting his mind. Todd just wanted me to shoot him up and get it over with, but before I could, Sybil emerged. I don’t often get to speak to Sybil, so I put the syringe away and took the opportunity to have a chat with him. I don’t usually deal well with children, and Sybil is very childlike at his core. I asked him if things were okay, and the answer he gave was…well, in some parts, it was disturbing. I won’t share all he said for the sake of his privacy, but one thing struck me in particular:
“When you give us that medicine, none of us /really/ go to sleep. We just go into one place where we don’t move as well, like a dream. And Grosvenor and Todd fight without talking or moving at all.”
I immediately asked him if this was okay, and he seemed to think so, because the sedatives help him to relax. At the time, I blindly accepted this answer and gave the injection. Sybil thanked me and smiled.
Suddenly, Todd’s hand grabbed my left wrist, wrenching it in his direction a little. I winced painfully for my poor shoulder. A gruff voice from the depths of his throat shouted, “The fuck?! What did you say to him?!”
I reflexively tried to pull away (not a very good idea, I think that’s when I popped one of my stitches), ordering Grosvenor to let go. He wouldn’t of course, but we proceeded to have an…odd conversation. Honestly, he reminds me of Marcus near the end of our relationship, with just a dash of murder added in for good measure. He mostly tried to re-explain how he is “scar tissue, not really human,” and I proceeded to explain why that is a load of bullshit. He is a piece of Todd’s mind, and Todd is human, whether he likes it or not. So that makes him at least a piece of a human, if only by association. Grov, sorry that “sorta human by association” doesn’t sound nearly as imposing as “inhuman,” but it’s far more accurate.
As his posture faltered and his words became more nonsensical (he even claimed he would be able to read the writing in the bones I’ve been finding; what a crock), I bid him good night. Todd returned, confused and feeling the effects of the drugs.
“Grov…that guy…” he slurred as his pupils dilated. I shushed him and helped him up, letting him lean on my right shoulder as I led him to bed. “That guy…that…that guy…” he mumbled. I gently shushed him again, helping him to the bed. He stumbled, his weight like another dagger in my wounded shoulder despite my good posture, but I kept him steady. Once he slid onto the bed, he looked at me through his glassy, half-open eyes.
“That guy is so full of sh-”
He trailed off as his eyes slid shut and his head lolled to his shoulder. I stayed a moment to ensure that he was comfortable, shut the light off, and closed the door as I exited. Then noticed that I had been bleeding from my shoulder and took care of that.
I feel terrible. While Sybil did say he didn’t mind, from his description, I see things this way: every time I’ve been administering these sedatives, I’ve been essentially trapping Todd within his own mind to contend with these personalities with no easy escape. He’s found no peace in this process. While it’s a necessary evil in some cases due to Grosvenor’s violent outbursts, but from this point on, I don’t believe I’ll be relying on sedation, heavy or light, as anything but an emergency measure in anyone’s treatment plan.
After all, it's my job to help you all be as healthy as possible so you have the best chance at survival, not to torture you.