New Skit: Preview 2

I changed my mind. I have an idea for a new skit part. Well, this is technically another preview part before the official skit story begins. I want it to be a shocker. 

These preview parts are also supposed to seem confusing at first. Like, what is going on? It’s a mystery. 

It’ll make sense later.

Anyway, they’re so dramatic. 

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[Content Warning: strong language, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, discussion of mental health/disorders, trauma, abandonment, dissociation, self harm, suicide] 

~*~*~*~

[Date: Early July 2019. Time: Late at night, most likely 3 am. Location: Outside, on the balcony of the house where most skit stories took place.]

Duke: What is the point? 

Fierdan: *sighs* There is none. 

Duke: *rolls eyes, holds out glass* Then be a good boy and pour me another one. 

Fierdan: *breathes in and out slowly* Fuck. *refills his glass first* 

Duke: *clinks his glass with Fierdan’s* 

Fierdan: *faces Duke* Who said I’m a good boy? We’re not good boys. 

Duke: *starts to get frustrated* Fill it up, asshole. 

Fierdan: *refills Duke’s glass* I’m a lost cause. We are a lost cause. 

Duke: Let’s toast to that. The Help ended up not helping us. What a scam. 

[They clink glasses and drink the vodka in their glasses. They finish their glasses quickly and put them down after swallowing the last drops of vodka. Fierdan looks away from the house and into the distance. Duke joins Fierdan, and they stare out at the vast empty field. Above is a pitch black sky. Duke doesn’t know why Fierdan is staring at nothing, so he puts his hand in one of his jeans pockets. His fingers touch the edge of a hand-sized pocket. He sighs and takes out of one the contents in the box, his hand still in his pocket.] 

Fierdan: *not facing Duke* Give me one. 

Duke: *not facing Fierdan* Give you what? 

Fierdan: Don’t play dumb with me. Hand one over. 

Duke: *ignores Fierdan, takes his hand out of the pocket, places one of the box’s contents up to his lips at one end* 

Fierdan: Give me a cig. 

Duke: Why? 

Fierdan: I want to feel more like shit. Maybe nicotine can help me escape this fucking emptiness. This hollow feeling is excruciating. 

Duke: Fine, fine. Hold on a sec. *rubs his fingertips (thumb and index finger) together until a small orange flame forms between them, lights his cigarette with the fire, puts the cigarette in his mouth, sticks his other hand in the pocket and pulls out another cigarette which he hands to Fierdan* 

Fierdan: *nods, lights his cigarette the same way Duke lit his, sticks it in his mouth* 

~*~*~*~ 

[Date: Middle of June 2019. Time: Late morning. Location: A room in the Help therapy office. The Help person gives Fierdan a sorrowful look. Of course he tries not to show it; his face is neutral, but Fierdan can see the sorrow, the pity in the other man’s eyes. Fierdan frowns back at him, unimpressed. The past few months of therapy sessions have been the same. Nothing changed much. He convinced Duke to also go to therapy, and for what? For this? What was the point of all this... this bullshit? No older adult gave a damn about their quality of life. Not his, not Duke’s. All of this was pointless. You can try so many times, but there comes a time when you just give up.]

Help Person: Fierdan...

[The man speaks slowly. Every few words feel like a pause. A deliberate pause. What does he have to tell Fierdan this time?] 

Help Person: It was a pleasure counseling you these past several months. I have gotten to know you well, and I hope you can say the same about me. Our relationship of course is client-therapist and nothing more, but a case like yours is nothing like I’ve ever seen. I think about you a lot, but...

Fierdan: *interrupts* What about Duke? 

Help Person: *finishes his sentence* ... I feel like I’m not helping you sufficiently. 

Fierdan: Duke? 

Help Person: Oh, Duke’s case is also... something I’m not trained enough to handle. I’m sorry, Fierdan, but I can’t help you or Duke anymore. You both should know how our sessions have been going nowhere. 

Fierdan: *brings more emotions into his voice* What do you mean? Are you giving up on us? 

Help Person: “Giving up” is a harsh way to put it, but yes, that’s technically right. I’m giving up on the two of you. The next and only step left for me to do is to refer you to a specialist that’s more trained in dealing with severe trauma. 

Fierdan: What have you been doing all this time? Not helping me with my trauma? Not helping Duke with his? We’ve tried your suggestions, but it’s not working. 

Help Person: I know. *takes a deep breath* And from what you told me about your siblings, I highly recommend they join you when meeting with a more highly trained trauma specialist. Especially your sister. 

Fierdan: *looks skeptical* You mean Dawn? 

Help Person: From all the details you have given me in her, I suspect she may have a dissociative disorder. *pauses* Dissociative disorders are a result of trauma. *clears throat* Severe, repeated trauma that began in childhood. 

Fierdan: Dissociative disorder? Which means what exactly? 

Help Person: Since she isn’t my client, I can not say for sure. I’m not qualified to treat people with dissociation. 

Fierdan: Dissociation. I haven’t seen Dawn dissociate. *sighs* Well, not that I can remember at least.

Help Person: Sometimes, someone dissociating doesn’t look as obvious from an outsider’s perspective. Besides, I’m focusing more on the information you told me about her childhood with you and your brother, and of course your father. 

Fierdan: *glares at the other man in the room, clenches jaw at the mention of his father* 

Help Person: *sighs* It’s not my place to discuss this any further. I’m still here to talk about you, by the way. 

Fierdan: Me? What else is there to say? 

Help Person: I’ve tried to keep your case as confidential as possible, but I also asked for advice from my colleagues. I only asked vague questions and didn’t name names. 

Fierdan: So? What is it? Spit it out. 

Help Person: *takes a deep breath* We’re not that sure if we’re treating the correct disorders and symptoms. 

Fierdan: What does that mean? I’m traumatized, and I’m depressed. What else is it? 

Help Person: There can be more than just that. Heck, I don’t know if I’m helping you and Duke because... Are we even going after the root of the problem? 

Fierdan: What’s the root then, doc? 

Help Person: I don’t know. 

Fierdan: *laughs* You don’t know? What the hell am I still doing here then? You are pathetic! 

Help Person: That’s why I’m willing to refer you to a specialist. 

Fierdan: What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Can you give me something to work with? You expect me to nod and be totally fine with you giving up on me and hand me over to another guy? 

Help Person: That’s not exactly how it works. 

Fierdan: *is clearly getting angrier by the minute* Do you really think I give a shit? *yells* You’re just like any other adult older than me! You take advantage of me and then abandon me! 

Help Person: I’m not taking advantage... 

Fierdan: *cuts him off* Yes, you are! You fucking are! 

Help Person: Look at me, Daniel. 

Fierdan: *lowers his head, somehow appears much smaller in the chair, speaks somewhat like a child* Why... Why do you want to abandon me? What did I do wrong? *raises head, no longer looks defiant* Tell me, please. Tell me what I did wrong. Why am I not good enough? Why do you have to leave me too? 

Help Person: *doesn't change his tone* Abandonment issues. *scratches chin* But not everything is adding up. Maybe I’m missing some signs. Maybe we both are. 

Fierdan: *still talking like a child* Don’t... leave me... alone. 

Help Person: Fierdan! 

Fierdan: *rubs his eyes, sits up taller in the chair, the child voice is gone* Fuck. Don’t do that shit on me! 

Help Person: Do you also dissociate, Fierdan? Do you sometimes find yourself being a young child? 

Fierdan: *still feels distorted* I... I... What? Abandoning me, too? 

Help Person: Abandonment issues. 

Fierdan: Stop it! 

Help Person: *ignores Fierdan* If I combine Duke into the equation, then there would also be... Self harm behavior, suicide attempts, strong emotions, their lines of thinking... It’s a far fetch, but what if it’s that? What if? 

Fierdan: What are you talking about? 

Help Person: Don’t take my word for it, but I feel like there’s a small, small possibility that you might. That you might. 

Fierdan: Spit it out already! 

Help Person: *stares intently at Fierdan* Since Duke is a part of you, if you two integrate, it will be easier to tell. As for now, I still can find signs of it in you alone. Heck, there’s probably a lot that I’m not taking into account. 

Fierdan: Signs? What signs? 

Help Person: *takes a deep breath* Fierdan, you show signs of having a personality disorder. It and Complex- Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder have similarities. *sighs* There is a chance that you also have Borderline Personality Disorder. 

Fierdan: Borderline... 

Help Person: Yes. To make it slightly easier for all of us, professionals and you and Duke, you two will have to integrate. 

Fierdan: Integrate? What the hell is that? 

Help Person: *gives Fierdan a sad smile* In simple terms, to integrate in this context means to have one body and two souls and sets of memories. 

Fierdan: I have to say goodbye to Duke? Forever? 

Help Person: Well, Duke will become a part of you, so he won’t really be gone. But his body will disappear, and his soul will combine with yours. You two will finally become one. 

Fierdan: We don’t want that! 

Help Person: I understand, but...

Fierdan: Do I even have a choice? Does he have any choice? 

Help Person: Well...

Fierdan: I already know the answer is no. 

Help Person: *sighs* Please think it through.

Fierdan: *is at a loss of words, reluctantly nods* 

Help Person: Integrating can help the both of you more than fighting your battles alone. 

Fierdan: Who says we’re alone? 

Help Person: I meant it as being two separate individuals. 

Fierdan: Integration, huh? 

Help Person: Think about it with Duke. That’s it for this session. Goodbye, Fierdan. 

Fierdan: *stands up, walks toward the door in a daze* Okay. Goodbye. 

~*~*~*~ 

[That same July night. Duke and Fierdan now stand, barefoot, on the grass in the backyard. They both wear T-shirts and shorts. A cool breeze passes by, making them shiver for a moment. The alcohol, however, keeps them warm during the rather chilly summer night. Red cheeks, red eyes. Drowning glass after glass of vodka. Yet they remain standing, unwavering. They face each other, staring into each other’s tainted soul.] 

Duke: Are you ready? 

Fierdan: Ready as I’ll ever be. 

Duke: And you understand you won’t be able to see my body anymore? 

Fierdan: Yes, I know. 

Duke: I’m going to miss you a lot, Fierdan. You know that, right? 

Fierdan: Of course I do. 

Duke: I’m going to miss everyone else, too. We were like a team. No, a family. 

Fierdan: I know, I know. 

Duke: And you’re okay with this? 

Fierdan: Yes. Are you? 

Duke: I’m ready as I’ll ever be. 

Fierdan: Okay, then let’s integrate. On the count of three... 

Duke: Thanks for giving me quite the life. You’re someone special. 

Fierdan: Three. 

Duke: Three. 

Fierdan: Two.

Duke: Thank you. 

Fierdan: One. 

Duke: Good-

Fierdan: Goodbye. 

————————————

To Be Continued.