Dr. Frazier Praxis [D6] // done

PRAXIS

dr. frazier praxis

The whiskey clouds my vision, making the world around me spin and distort. Despite it's best efforts to numb my senses, the rich taste of the spirit is potent on my tongue. Such a full-bodied flavour packs enough of a punch to keep me awake, despite my heavy eyelids and aching body. Cigarette smoke drifts around the room, drowning me in a bitter haze. The fumes are stale, sitting in my lungs and making me feel heavy. It is no more than I have come to expect in recent months.

The spell of the nicotine soon wares off, making me feel surprisingly nervous. A cold sensation runs through my weary body as I take another swig of whiskey. I glance at my cheaply made wristwatch, my eyes taking a few seconds to register the hands at ten and twelve. Is it that late? I grunt, downing the rest of my drink and leaning back in my chair, throwing my feet up on the table and closing my eyes.

"Mrs. Crockford is here to see you, sir!" Barks my receptionist, Nina, disturbing me from my own little coma. I'm tempted to throw my empty glass at her fat head, but that would mean I wouldn't have anything to drink from. I pick up my voice, pretending that this news is more exciting than it is.
"Oh, joy of joys! Send her in..." I lean back further in my chair, pouting a little.

Truth be told, I have been expecting this visit. Crockford is a stubborn old cow with a stick up her ass and all the personality of an undertaker. She's more of a prude than my ex-wife, and that's saying something. All in all, she's exactly what I don't want at ten minutes to midnight, after drinking nearly a whole bottle of whiskey.

Her slender stature casts an unwelcome shadow over me. I sit comfortably, pouring myself another glass of whiskey and then offering her the bottle - She shakes her head. Suit yourself. I eye her up, trying to judge her mood by her body language. Through my inaccurate booze-spectacles I see an attractive lady on the right side of forty. It's a shame she's got no flair about her, and that's she's got so much against me, else I might have given her a poke with my disco stick.

"Charlie's not woken up yet, maybe come back in a year or two, ey?" I grin sarcastically, hoping to provoke something in those dead eyes of hers. Something stirs. I can see her holding her tongue. She sighs deeply, keeping her eyes locked on mine.
"We both know why I'm here, Mr. Praxis..." She says calmly.
"Dr. Praxis." I correct her with an faux grin.

Her son has been comatose for over a year. He's shown no signs of getting any better, and hasn't responded to any of the stimulating exercises I've ran on him. The only positive I can raise about Charles Crockford is that he certainly hasn't gotten any worse. He's in pretty deep, and it'll likely be a while before we see any signs of improvement in his condition. Of course, I've told her all of this on many occasions, but she's stubborn. She won't take no for an answer. She loves her son, I get that, but I can't risk his life to wake him up.

"It's been over a year, Doctor..." Do I hear pleading in her voice? She is concerned for sure, but I have never heard Crockford so desperate. It puts me in a tough position. She's been pressuring me for months, but even I have to admit that we're running out of options.
"I'd be breaking every rule in the book, not to mention I'd put Charlie's life in extreme danger," I explain for what feels like the hundredth time, "Even if he did survive it, there would be no guarantee that he'd be the same mentally." My eyes trail to the oak drawer where the control panel is concealed.

I could wake up every kid under my care, but it would either kill them or leave them shattered, mentally. I have enough regrets, I don't need more.

"You can go through and see him, if you like," I say after a prolonged silence, "I'll think about it."
She leaves, and I think deep down she knows that I won't consider it at all. She knows I'm stubborn and set in my ways, and she knows that a year of pleading won't change anything. Charlie Crockford will remain in a stable condition until he shows signs of improvement, same as everyone else. I will not risk his life. I can't.