virtual Home of William Rahal

Remmi.. Chapter 1...


Needing a shower, but would settle for a drink, Dr. Soungs long journey is nearing its end, so he thought. The constant clickety-clack and rocking back and forth of the well-traveled railcar put him, into a hypnotic trance. Most of the trip, he had avoided sleep, knowing that his recent life would creep back, as a dream, and could replay its self over and over anytime it chose. No longer able to keep the weight of his eye lids up, Dr. Soung went into one, of his more pleasant reoccurring dreams, as the car’s relentlessness noise and potpourri of smells wooed him to sleep. He remembered himself at his best friends and colleagues office.

It was a gorgeous day; it was his beautiful wife and himself sitting, on the other side, of the massive old oak desk, that made him uncomfortable. Sitting in elegant un-comfortable chairs, he was holding his wife's hand and they were laughing. Dr. Soung had made a career out of, just this very thing. It was difficult being on the receiving side, of the proverbial couch. His lovely wife had been under this man's care of five years now. As close as they all were, this moment still was very awkward. It was, the moment the emotional umbilical cord was been severed. The small brown capped container with his wife's name on it, next to the words take two daily or as needed was, to be the answer. Taken with a glass of water and reinforced by the man she loved. As he remembered, the very speech, he'd given to a hundred patients before, he and his wife now were receiving. Now somehow, the part, about how this would be better for both of them and how the future was bright and the past was behind them, was dealt out and masked, like a sweet effervescent of liquid poison.

Woken up, by the stimulating voice announcing the very next stop and a sharp penetrating crack to the back of his head by an anonymous dark haired woman quickly passing him on the narrow aisles of the train, with one of her many weather brown suitcases losing its perch on her shoulder and using his head as a spring board to realign its self, onto the fast moving traveler.

Rubbing his head and wishing she had at least looked back. He massages himself back into a deep state of thought remembering.

This all came about when he reluctantly agreed to take over his wife’s treatment for manic depression and schizophrenia. He and she felt that with time, with proper medication, with supervision and with a strong dose of their love they could overcome this agonizing problem. With their daughter Beth getting older, they knew it was best, that her mom was home everyday, not in a home, but that was not meant to be.

As a hot shot, know it all Med. student, Dr. Soung knew the Rule. The rule is…you never, ever get emotionally involved with a patient, who you think, with your God-like powers you can cure. As he remembers a patient many years ago telling him, “Some say that a mechanic’s car never runs well and a carpenter’s house is never completely built.” Could it be the same with some other professions, that some work is never done?” Ultimately…He knows, he broke the rule.

As if anticipating, his eyes flashed opened an instant before the conductor announced his stop. After staring at the ceiling for a moment, to get his bearings Dr. Soung gathered up his bags and started collecting his thoughts. Moving towards the front of the train and trying to get his bearings. the long walk to the front of the car offer the same view out of every window, nothing remarkable or discernible just flatland lightly dusted with white powder for miles. Standing in the landing, of the aged car and mentally preparing to exit, Doctor Soung is looking at the steps and the fast moving ground in front of him and thinking about his painful past and the foreign soil he was about to step upon and being only one step away from his new life.

As for Doctor Soung, this is the last step down a short road. From a long climb of a professional career, that had taken too many years to achieve and so few months to destroy. Dr. Soung once used to be a leader of the psychiatric community. The brilliant one, the one they, couldn’t get enough of; now washed up and left out to dry.

He was now the last person left standing at the edge of the curb, of the remote train station. The train all but out of sight and all of the other persons that exited with him all the period picked up by love once. The stand-alone looking out into the great white expanse opened upon how this transportation was…………… he went into a conscious daydream.

Dr. Soung’s career came crashing down {not to long ago} when one of the patients under his supervision committed murder and suicide. The murder occurred under his watchful eye, with his own hunting gun on his brand new white carpet in his own living room over milk and cookies. He had only left for a few minutes to get some more milk, so he could join his little girl’s tea party. Gone for what seemed to be a very short time, he came back to find his daughter shot to death and his poor confused loving wife of eight years standing over his daughter with a sick look of fear and saying, “I am sorry! I thought….. I …I ..” She, at that moment turned the gun on herself and changed their lives forever.

An hour later, nearing his final destination Dr. Soung can’t help but look over the letter that brought him over 5000 miles, four time zones, three plane rides, one train, two buses and now this bumpy cab ride, to the middle of no were. He must have looked at the warn out, folded and re-folded, crumpled letter for the 15th time in 20 minutes. Multiply that by the fourteen the hours he's been traveling and he knows every word on the page as well as every morsels of stain, which has brought a new integrity to its worn black and white face. The letterhead said Devereaux Estates. Next were the words, “Please come immediately, your service’s are desperately needed.” now, forever etched into his brain. Brought out of his ritualistic haze by; “Are you the new headshrinker at Devereaux Estates?” The curious wide-eyed taxi driver asked? With the first spontaneous laugh in months Doctor Soung said, “Yes.” “I heard, well, we all heard you were coming to town.” “ You did?” “ Yea.” “ What else do here? What do you know about Devereaux Estates?” Knowing with all of his years of dealing with patients that this man had a story to tell, in a bad way. “ Well, I don’t want you to think, well that I was telling stories, you know.” “No, no I wouldn’t think that. You would actually be helping me out.” “Yea, helping you. It would be the neighborly thing to do. You being new and all.” The driver’s door of facts mixed with half-truth and roomer mongering was flung wide open with no gilt now.

The Estate is named after Helen A. & Henry G. Devereaux. They were some of this community’s most well to do folks, and most people would do well to avoid them. Helen and Henry lived in the largest mansion in town, now a mental home, well you know that, until their untimely deaths. Dr. Soung did not know. No one really knows what happened to either of them, even to this day. It seems the local postman; he’s a friend of mine, you know, found both Helen and Henry’s bodies during the course of his daily deliveries. Where is this going, Dr. Soung thinks? To his surprise he found them in different parts of the house. She was in the library where she often liked to read murder mysteries and eat crumpets. He on the other hand was in the basement; found next to his beloved bright red topped pool table with it’s imposing crystal chandelier still shining brightly above it. He loved that thing. The taxi driver shakes his head. This is the wired thing, on the table the black eight; the orange five and the white cue ball remain sitting as if waiting, just patiently waiting for Henry to finish them off of the table. The left corner pocket closest to Henry was blocked with the remains of a large broken red wine glass, that’s contents had refused to die by bonding the crushed glass to the felt, making a small area look like the bottom of a sun dried red clay river bed. Both Helen and Henry supposedly died of natural causes.
“Huh” Dr. Soung says the police report said that while the circumstances seem a little odd there is no reason to think there was foul play.” “And what do you think?” looking up into the rearview mirror and meeting the inquisitive eyes of the man driving, Dr. Soung asked. “ Well I don’t want to spread any rumors or anything but, Mac, well he's the local mailman and he was there. Yep, he was Johnny on the spot. He saw it all. He found them you know." "Yeah that’s what you said, is there more to the story?" " I think it was about, ten years ago. When he went to deliver the mail and found them." " What else?" knowing there was more in this well. "It's the boy. You know, their boy? Well, when Mac got there the high green grass was only half cut, just a lawnmower and gas can sitting out in the hot sun and no boy. That boy was always troubled, in and out of foster homes. Never knew why the Devereaux’s took him in. he was trouble. Well you know how rumors fly in a small town. Yes Dr. Soung thinks to himself. Some thought the boy did it, but dam, if no one could figure it out." "What ever happened to the boy?" Dr. Soung eagerly asked "Here you are. Pulling up to the stately manner. I never got your name?" the driver asks quickly. "Dr. Soung." "Rich, my name is Rich, nice to meet yah." Pulling up to Devereaux Estates they are greeted by the acting director of human services for mental health in the Yukon Territory Canada. "You must be Dr. Soung?" "Yes, Dr. Havens I presume? We have been expecting you. Welcome, welcome, I hope your trip went well?" The next day, Dr. Havens is giving his welcome and farewell tour to Dr. Soung. "The original Devereaux Estates building was built about 150 years ago by Henry’s great-grandfather Gastiano Devereaux making it the oldest building in the community. Henry’s great-grandfather made his money in timber and built a home in the 1850’s for himself, his wife and their three kids. Henry’s father added to the size by doubling the square footage of the structure and adding to the garden area. The building is French Provencal in design and has a very simple yet stately demeanor. As you can see this X palace still has a long grassy driveway with two, one-foot wide gravel paths running on either side where the wagon wheels once cut into the earth. Upon approaching this splendid home, you are struck by open arch walkways that circle a massive fountain with four horses spaced evenly in a circle all rearing up in white marble with water spouting from there nostrils. Devereaux Estates has seen royalty and dignitaries of all types from across the globe. A picture of Gastiano in his twilight years, with U.S. President Grover Cleveland, still holds a prominent place in the library. With not too much emanation one can still see the horse drawn carriages lining up to drop off the privileged guests lushly pampered in their handcrafted carriages. The outside walkways are all still cobblestone with sandstone brick walls that go up into the sky five to six stories. The mansion had fifty rooms for guests and ten private suites sitting above the main living and entertaining area. Each suite had two extra rooms with private baths. This all has changed now, as you can see, we white washed the walls and finished off with white ceramic tile flooring laid down throughout. “Quit impressive.” Dr. Soung relays All the rooms have been converted into either 10 x 10 white padded cells or dormitory style housing. Outside the main building were the expansive stables and guesthouses for the rich visitors of the Estate. Theses are now the staff quarters. Devereaux Estates has been converted into a professional home because the last will and testament of the Devereaux’s dedicated the entire Estate to the local province and left all of their considerable monies for upkeep and maintenance of the estate. At first the local people did not know what to do with the property so they decided to stimulate their economy by taking the state up on their offer and leasing the property back to the state for the promise of jobs. The state worked very slowly at first. They started out by bringing doctors and nurses in and calling it a training facility. Slowly one by one they brought more and more patients in. The locals now fear they have been taken over. Now there are over 350 people in and behind the compound walls making it an uncomfortable ratio of patients to staff for the locals. The people behind the electrified fence now out-number this town two to one. Let me tell you, Devereaux Estates is an out of the way place, it’s forgotten and ignored by the medical community. Just like all of its patients. Devereaux Estates is known as the Alcatraz of mental homes. It’s located in the south west part of the Canadian Yukon under my supervision. Don’t be mistaken this is the place where the worst people are sent. The people that are the least wanted, the most afflicted, the ones that fall though the cracks.” Doctor Soung’s sickness in his stomach that has prodded him for a month now was sticking its sharp ugly head into his side again. “Some say there is an unwritten rule at Devereaux Estates that if a person’s behavior is untreatable or unreachable they get shipped here, to the middle of nowhere. Some also say that if patients elsewhere have no visitors for two years they get sent straight here, no questions asked. This is forgottensville, a land where a high amount of drugs are prescribed and a low amount of attention is given. Just as the patients have fallen from the trees of life and are left on the ground to rot so is the staff.” Feeling Queasy and lightheaded Dr. Soung finds his hand in his pocket subconsciously clinching to the very letter that brought him here. “Remember most of the staff is washed up has-beens who can’t make it in the profession or out in the real world. Some are forced out by drugs, some by relationships with patients and some for caring too much.” Doctor Havens asks, “Are you feeling all right? Want some water? Would you like to sit down?” “No, no thanks , must be the jet lag or something I ate on the plane. I’ll be ok.” Dr. Soung presses both of his hands over his eyes and back thru his hair wile taking in a big gulp of air before exhaling “Please continue.” “The old Dr. Martin whom you are replacing had to be removed after what experts called clinical depression, which ultimately set in. This came after a borage of reporters, government people, and community members had begun to attack his reputation and competence. The folks from the psychiatric board of Canada, myself not included, came down on him and how he ran this sinking ship of a home. This all came about, due to a male orderly under his direction that came up missing one day. The male orderly did not show up for work for two days and was not able to be reached at home. Not until the water and sewage system started to act up, was this male orderly found at Devereaux Estates strangled to death. All the townspeople gossiped and suspected foul play. It seems that his clothes had got caught on a sewage-pump located in the basement. The pumping machine had apparently caught and ripped most of his cloths off rapping them around his neck and then strangling him to death. No one knew what he was doing down there (least of all absent-minded old Dr. Martin) or why he had so few clothes on his body while working on the very dangerous machinery. They think the orderly just snapped and went mad. The old Dr Martin took this incident personal and the pressure was too great. He was consumed by his own institution and was asked to step down as director of Devereaux Estates. At this time you were asked to become his replacement. REMMI CHAPTER 1