No. Really.

I’m doing well today, thank you, doctor Simms.

No, no more dreams. I’ve gone almost three weeks without a single bad dream. I know, that’s my personal best. Well, except for when I got here, true.

But, that was different, remember?

I didn’t meet you until the dreams started.

You’ve been a great help to me, every single step of the way. I could not imagine how far I would have gotten if you had not intervened on my behalf, and saved me from myself.

I can never thank you enough for telling Deanne about the knife. She’s better off knowing about the reason it was always bloodied. I never meant for her to * NOT * know, but I would have told her in a few weeks, no matter what.

And, we’re not going to discuss why I had to use it, right, doctor? I mean, we’ve been over this, time and time again. It’s old news.

One more time?

Well, the knife was a focus for me. It turned my evil into good; I never wanted to hurt anyone, so I just used it on the empty people.

The ones who don’t have souls, or insides, or anything, really. Except for the spiders. You know about those, right?

Remember when we were in Group, my first year, and you waited until everyone had left the room, and then you said, ‘Walter, I too, am afraid. Very afraid of spiders, in fact. Everyone needs a little fear.’

And you know what?

Ever since then, I’m all better.

The three years after that, I never did do anything inappropriate, or act out, or break one of the rules. No orderly needed to put me in the padded room, did they?

No, sirree, Bob. I’m cured, now.

Now, I know why I was always so good at the knife thing. Most people are afraid of the knife, not the one holding it.
I owe you so damned much, doc.

You’re the one who told me that the medication was the knife we were both using to kill my illness, and we were going to subjugate it, make it our bitch, and turn it into something beautiful, and good, and make me Better. By making me eat the Knife, I was going to murder the bad things in me.

You’re a fucking genius, doc.

And now that I’m living life outside of the ivy-walls, and eating solid food, and off my medication, I’m all better.

You did this, doc. You made me a better man.

Now, open your mouth really, really wide.

I’m going to feed you spiders, until you get all better.

I’m so glad I’m better now.

—–
Sometimes, even the people of the House of Renunciation need some help remembering their job.