Francis was taken to the Psych ER where he was given a few injections. Then he was sent to the Bellevue hospital in Manhattan, which had a special psych ward for patients who have ongoing criminal cases—Francis was still on Probation.
“What hospital is he in?” Jenn inquired, examining her stunning face in the compact mirror.
Her eyelids shone and sparkled with silver glitter, and her long lashes had a thick coat of mascara. She wore a long fitted lilac dress. Judging by all this, she was headed to some party.
“In Bellevue.” I answered.
“Ok, as a whole I got the picture: the young man could not handle stress and was not able to adjust to changes,” she continued when we were in her office getting ready for the clinic staff meeting, where I would have to present the Francis’ case.
Meanwhile, I sat on her “shrink’s” couch, intended for patients, with folded palms between my spread knees.
“Too much good befell your Francis in a short time. One must get used to good things as well, and turns out he was not ready. That’s first of all. Secondly, Francis started smoking marijuana, and the grass, as known, causes hallucinations in some people. So, in conclusion, his psychiatric illness is not stable, but progressing. Here is the answer to your question why he got a nervous breakdown and cut his arms. You, Adam, did the right thing; you were not confused and you called the police right away. Don’t blame yourself for anything, we shrinks cannot foresee everything.” She snapped her compact closed.
“Yes, yes, it’s all correct—the stress, the grass, hallucinations, psychopathology. However, maybe… Maybe he truly believes in God? Maybe only now having become free, finding himself among people who care about him a little bit, he finally felt God in himself? He felt some sort of remorse and considered himself guilty? He wanted to confess his sins, no matter how minimal they are, but which in his eyes acquired huge importance?” I was looking ahead, where it seemed as if some dark bloody spots appeared and dissolved on the floor.