Susan Abraham usually spent a great deal of time getting ready to go anywhere; if you’ve got it flaunt it was justifiably her catch phrase. With beautiful auburn hair and piercing green eyes, Susan had enjoyed strutting her stuff when she was younger. Today she would just have to go whatever state she was in; no matter how daunting the meeting sounded in the letter, it sounded every bit as important. Susan was settled down again now anyway, had been for five years. Happily married for the second time now 32 years of age with three beautiful children: Michael 7 years of age, Cindy 9 years of age, and Sarah 11 years of age, all from Susan’s first marriage, their father Chris was shot dead by police while Michael was still in the womb.

The meeting today was about Michael, he had given Susan the letter last night at ten thirty, which was short notice as usual. Hence his mother’s haste now as she frantically flapped at her hair attempting to get some style, any style and failing miserably. By the time Susan had finished doing her hair it was almost 9:20 and she hadn’t even started the longest part of the process yet. Makeup. Susan thought more about the meeting and the possibility of postponing it as she looked at the state of herself in the mirror, No I’m going. I’ve got to. Susan's spirit was suddenly spurred on by this thought, she slung on a bit of lippy, flung on her coat, left a note for her other two children and headed out the door. The note read:

Gone to school about Michael. You two should have told me about this so you can do your own tea. See you later. MUM. Towards the end of the short note the pen was almost tearing the page as Susan projected her anger at being kept in the dark. Susan thought: Bloody kids, I’ll have to deal with them later as she left her house barely lifting her feet; Susan hated things like this, especially with headmasters. At least it’s not Monday. Susan thought as she sat down wearily in the driving seat of the Mitsubishi, her new husband and the kid’s brand new daddy John bought her just last month.

Turning the key of her beautiful, brand new, dark blue Evolution VIII 260 with all the mod cons, sequential gear change (buttons on steering wheel, electronic clutch, £6000) alloy wheels, electric windows/sunroof, and ten disc C.D player with surround sound, still brings a smile to Susan’s face every time; hearing the lovely sound her little baby’s engine makes; purring away like a kitten. Not today, Susan was grimacing as she put her foot down, wheel spinning away from suburbia in second gear.

Driving her dream machine was the only time Susan felt in control of everything, but her control was quickly lost as her mind was once again taken over. Consumed by thoughts of the meeting ahead of her, Susan wasn’t enjoying this drive much at all now, in fact she was finding it rather difficult to concentrate; she didn’t know what was going on with Michael lately at all, he wasn’t a teenager for years yet and he was already causing way too much trouble. Luckily the drive wasn’t a long one and ten minutes later Susan was, following a near road rage incident over a parking spot, soon parked in the school car park. Still full of adrenaline from the parking incident, Susan found herself marching through the main entrance of Michael’s school, and straight to the door of the headmaster’s office much easier than she imagined, solidly knocking on the door proved little problem either. Not laughing as the headmaster, Mr Thom, opened the door however was always rather difficult.

Mr Thom at about 5' exactly was vertically challenged to say the least, he didn’t have very good eye-sight either, given away by the bottle bottoms in the big black frames resting on the end of his little impertinent nose. Susan managed to hold a smile through Mr Thom’s to the point introduction, and sat down in the seat he directed her to.

Mr Thom looked to Susan, who had always had a slight problem with authority, very unimportant as he began, “I’m sorry to bring you here under such circumstances Mrs Abraham, but the sudden change in Michaels behaviour, and the rapid deterioration thereafter has left his teachers scratching their heads.” Mr Thom took a pause for thought, which worried Susan a little, clearing his throat Mr Thom continued carefully “I don’t want to beat around the bush Mrs Abraham; I think the best thing for Michael would be a meeting with the school psychologist, you would accompany him of course.”

Susan’s mind was reeling, as an expression of disbelief appeared on her face, she thought what, a shrink. Michael. Ok he’s been scaring me quite a bit lately, but surely it hasn’t come to that. “Hold on one minute” Susan flared up “Why don’t you tell me what’s been happening, and let me decide what is best for my son?” Susan’s temperament was sometimes rather a hindrance in these situations, not this time.

The small headmaster shrunk into his fancy but squeaky leather chair as he replied meekly “O-o-ok Mrs Abraham calm down, this situation won’t be resolved by shouting.”

“The sooner you stop patronising me and start telling me what the hell is going on here, the sooner I’ll lower my voice. I’m waiting.”

Following Susan’s outburst, Mr Thom was almost completely concealed by his big posh desk as he surrendered “Ok, but just please calm down a bit, shouting doesn’t do anyone any good.”

Seeing Susan’s impatience rising again Mr Thom got on with it, just in time. “Well as you know Mrs Abraham Michael has struggled to keep up since he came here eight months ago, he lacks concentration and is very easily distracted, we started monitoring him six months ago and found that: Michael finds it very difficult to pay attention for any length of time, he squirms in his seat, fidgets constantly, and regularly gets up and walks around the classroom for no apparent reason, he also seems not to listen when spoken to directly, but his attitude and behaviour have always been quite reasonable. That has been changing rapidly since a day under three weeks ago.”

Mr Thom saw the wheels in Susan’s head begin turning, as she thought just under three weeks, it feels like so much longer. Mr Thom continued, “His behaviour started deteriorating, over the first six days he became sullen, sulky and insolent, the type of behaviour we expect from teenagers. Over the next week he was getting angry more and more often, and seemed really agitated about silly things like his lunch poisoning him etc, this became more of a problem toward the end of that week, beginning of last week. On Monday last week he started making threats of violence to other pupils, then to any pupil who annoyed him, any pupil he didn’t like or just because he felt like it.

It all exploded last Thursday; Michael was in an art lesson, behaving quite well for a change, if a bit over excited. An argument broke out between Michael and a classmate. We are still looking into it, but for no apparent reason, Michael just started shouting at the boy, knocked his paintbrush out of his hand, threw paint in his face and wrestled him to the ground, before being pulled-off by two teachers.” Susan felt the need to say something in her son’s defence, but the shock of her son behaving this way had struck her dumb. Mr Thom droned on “So far there has been no violence or threats to teachers but in this day and age they are always wary, I can’t keep putting them in that position. Michael just seems to have no respect anymore, for anyone or anything, no grasp of consequences for his actions, it’s like he has lost his conscience.” The wheels in Susan’s head continued to turn as she thought about the headmaster last statement, and it was confirmed in her mind’s own recollections. Michael had started to remind her of his dad more and more over the last three weeks, but Chris died before Michael was born so unlike his siblings, Michael never had to watch his father kick his mother around the living room. Michael never had a quick or a bad temper either and except for the usual fights between siblings, had never been violent, until now.

Susan was still uncharacteristically speechless. Mr Thom’s tone changed as he became cautious, he knew that what he was about to say would be difficult to hear, he said, “Based on reports from the school psychologist, Michael is suffering from a common behavioural disorder, nothing to worry about, possibly A.D.H.D. Attention. Deficit. Hyperactive. Disorder. Or A.D.D. Attention. Deficit. Disorder.” As Mr Thom spoke, his words completely knocked the stuffing out of Susan. She sat in the uncomfortable chair in complete dismay as the headmaster, realising his complete dominance, went in for the kill “I however am not a doctor, that’s why I feel a session with our psychologist really is necessary.”

Having very little fight left Susan was forced to surrender “OK Michael will see your bloody psychologist” Susan got out of her seat as she spoke, which had the desired effect in intimidating the small headmaster slightly and knocking him down a peg or two. Susan was pointing her finger at Mr Thom as she went on: “On one condition.” Mr Thom nodded meekly, now hidden by his desk once more. “When Michael proves he is in perfect mental health, that’s the end of it.”

“Of course.” Said Mr Thom exasperatedly “If Michael proves his mental health is fine, the matter will be closed when his behaviour returns to normal. The psychologist, Mrs Clement has agreed to see Michael today, Michael is on his way from class as we speak. Mrs Clement’s office is down two doors on your left, thank-you for coming in.” Susan was once again dumbstruck and desperate to protest at being railroaded, but unable to think of a reasonable argument, did as she was told.

Still leaning against the wall beside the office door in shock trying to take everything in, Susan’s mind was like no mans land as she thought, Michael, violent? Psychologists? A.D.H.D? What kind of mother am I?

Susan’s legs were like jelly and she could feel herself trembling, especially her hands as she knocked on Mrs Clement’s door. “Come In!” Mrs Clement’s tone was high pitched and cheery, she sounded like Julie Andrews in the sound of music with a southern Irish accent to Susan, thinking Oh god, another Mary Poppins telling me how to care for my children as she nervously opened the door. Mrs Clement stood up to greet Susan, saying “Hi Mrs Abraham, come in and sit down.”

Susan mumbled “hello” as she shuffled nervously to the seat Mrs Clement was beckoning her to.

Seeing the obvious worry Susan was feeling for her son, Mrs Clement said “I can understand how worried you are but I can tell you honestly, everything is going to be fine! For six months now I have been monitoring Michael’s behaviour, and carrying out assessments based on reports received from his teachers and staff around the school, using these assessments I have made a preliminary diagnosis. All I need now is a little information from you about what Michael is like at home now, to complete my diagnosis and give you a definite answer today, which will hopefully put your mind at ease a little.”

Susan sat with her mouth open struggling to take in what the doctor was saying, all she really took in was: preliminary diagnosis, and definite answer today, she said: “Mr Thom was saying it was a behavioural disorder, A.D.D or something like that.”

An expression of worry had appeared, and quickly became anger on Mrs Clements face as Susan dropped Mr Thom in it, she said, “Well I shouldn’t really tell you anything yet, but my preliminary diagnosis is A.D.H.D. Attention. Deficit. Hyperactivity. Disorder but I’m categorically saying nothing is definite until I have all the information I need.”

“Well I’ll help you all I can.”

A knock at the door startled Susan briefly, cheerful as ever; Mrs Clement screeched: “Come in” Michael opened the door as slowly as possible heart racing; not looking forward to this one bit. Spotting how worried Michael looked his mother’s first instinct was to throw her arms around him, she resisted as Mrs Clement was already shuffling round the desk and saying “Come in, come in Michael and sit down, you’ve got nothing to worry about I just need to ask you and your mother a few questions. Then I’ll be able to help you.” Michael sat down on the chair beside the filing cabinet, four feet away, and three feet too far away for his mother’s liking but Mrs Clement knew what she was doing, she said “OK Michael.” Michael was too busy pulling and hauling at the plant overhanging the filing cabinet Mrs Clement had placed the plant there, when she put the chair Michael was sitting on beside the filing cabinet, to see if Michael was distracted by the plant, and if so, how quickly. “…Michael, thank-you, I was just wondering if you could tell me your date of birth please?”

Michael’s eyes shot to the top of his head and stayed there for a few seconds before he answered “twenty fifth of the first sixty eight.”

Mrs Clement’s first reaction was agitation as she thought Michael was playing silly buggers, but seeing the colour drain from Mrs Abraham’s face she decided to continue and said “Right Michael.” Michael was busy twirling his shoelace. “…Michael. Michael, thank-you, if you could sit as still as you can for me while I ask your mother a couple of questions.” Michael sat still so Mrs Clement proceeded “Right first of all, is Michael behaving in the same way at home.” Susan thought about lying, but decided truth would be best for Michael, she was just about to answer when...
…Michael got out of his seat and walked over to the window, put his right hand against it and started rubbing the windowsill with his other. Susan was standing up, but Mrs Clement signalled not to. Susan obeyed. Mrs Clement, in a surprisingly stern tone said “Michael. Michael, I’m talking Michael, Michael you can go now, wait outside, Michael, wait outside, thank-you.” Michael left the office, his mother yearned to follow him, she had always had a suspicion there was something wrong now she knew, and stayed only because she wanted to find out what could be done.

Mrs Clement got up and shut the door before saying, “I’m sorry about that Mrs Abraham but it was exactly what I needed, in the short time Michael was in the office he displayed several symptoms of A.D.H.D, that is much more frequent than in normal children, I just need to find out if Michael behaves this way in the family home.”

Susan sub-conscious must have taken over she answered, “Yes, he is, all the time,” without even thinking about it; Michael obviously needed help.

“In that case Mrs Abraham, we’re definitely looking at a case of A.D.H.D.” Susan broke down, Mrs Clement said “Don’t be upset Mrs Abraham, from this day forward things will only get better for you and your son, now we know exactly what we’re dealing with, we can start treating it straight away.” Susan steadily stopped crying as Mrs Clement spoke; Mrs Clement was right, things had been getting pretty bad lately.

When Susan had calmed down a bit Mrs Clement said: “I just want to ask one more thing before I explain Michael’s course of treatment to you… What upset you about Michael playing silly buggers earlier, when I asked him his date of birth?”

Susan shuffled uncomfortably in her seat for a second before answering, “Well, the date of birth Michael said was his real dad’s date of birth, he died when Michael was in the womb and Michael doesn’t know about him, and I don’t know how he knows his date of birth, probably just coincidence.”

“Yes, probably.” Mrs Clement agreed with Susan but was a bit puzzled as to why Michael didn’t know about his real dad, she continued, “OK, I will be putting Michael on a course of Dextroamphetamine straight away, I’ll give you the prescription to take with you.” A worried look appeared on Susan’s face at exactly the moment Mrs Clement said the word amphetamine, seeing this Mrs Clement stopped to reassure her “I know there’s been a lot about Amphetamine in the news lately but in pure chemical form, it is very similar to some of the substances occurring naturally in the human brain, and therefore only dangerous when not handled correctly and in large doses. Dextroamphetamine is known to be the most successful drug in treating A.D.D and A.D.H.D, and will work by stimulating the parts of Michael’s brain that have previously been under functioning, by helping nerve cells in the brain to transmit messages to other cells. Michael will also be attending two sessions with me every week. With this drug, and my help I’m absolutely positive Michael can have a normal, or even a good, long and productive life.”

Susan was baffled by all the medical mumbo jumbo, but she could hear the sincerity in Mrs Clement’s voice; she truly cared, Susan said “Thank-you very much, can I see Michael before I go?”

“Yes, he’s outside, I’ll just give you Michael’s prescription.”

As Mrs Clement scribbled furiously on the prescription pad, Susan took a moment to think and felt as if a huge weight had been lifted; a smile appeared on her face as she took the prescription from Mrs Clement and said, “goodbye, and thank-you again” as she left the office. Michael was gone, Susan thought: Oh he must’ve gone back to class, no point getting him into trouble. This thought brought a pang of terror, stopping Susan suddenly in her tracks, as she remembered telling John about the meeting and realised she would have to lie to him about it’s content. Doors and falling down flights of stairs had made Susan regret lying to John in the past, but she couldn’t tell him the truth or Michael would surely get it too.

Completely absorbed by worry, guilt and racking her brains for lies, Susan was lucky it wasn’t break-time as she dithered across the car park. Susan hated feeling guilty but she couldn’t help it; she was completely dominated by John, and he has manipulated her constantly over their years together, now John has Susan right where he wants her; completely submissive, scared, and always guilty because John makes Susan believe she deserves it, and she is to blame for all their troubles. Susan handed in Michael’s prescription on the way home, but was still home half an hour later. To Susan’s dismay, Michael was waiting on the door-step, his dad would be home in an hour, this was turning into a disaster, she asked “What are you doing here Michael? Your dad will be home soon.”

“I’m suspended Mum, for two days till the medication starts working. Sorry.”

“No, its ok son,” Susan lied “it’s not your fault. Just go to your room, till I’ve spoken to your dad.” Michael went upstairs as he was told. Susan, preoccupied by what she would say to John when he came in, set about the nerve-racking task of cooking his lunch; always in fear of something not being perfect, made worse by having to lie.

The front door was opened with force and banged against the wall. Hard. John walked in half an hour early in a terrible rage about something, he looked into the living room and kitchen before going to the bottom of the stairs and shouting “Michael, get down here you little cunt, I want to talk to you and your mother.”

“OK Dad!” Susan was petrified but puzzled, Michael didn’t sound scared at all, if anything he sounded excited. As Michael came running down the stairs, John went into the kitchen and picked Susan up by the hair, holding her there. Michael walked into the kitchen, smiling even after seeing what was happening to his mother and said “What is it DAD?”

“OH, I just want to ask you about this letter I took to work with me this morning.” John threw a letter onto the floor about the intended session with the school psychologist at today’s meeting. Susan almost fainted. John said, “So, I’ve got a nut-case for a son, have I?” as he slapped Susan to the ground and started approaching Michael saying, “I’ll just have to beat some sense into you. Michael was backing away, backing away; he backed into a kitchen unit; nowhere to go. As John reached Michael and pulled back his arm for a good strong swing Michael was smiling, as he pulled a 15” carving knife from down the back of his trousers and plunged it straight into his step-dad’s heart, laughing as John fell back holding the knife, mouth open in disbelief like a bully who’s had a severe taste of his own medicine.

Susan was still lying where John knocked her to, fear had prevented her from moving, but now shock nailed her to the spot; she was crying uncontrollably although she didn’t know what for. Michael said, “Hello Susan, missed me?” walking two steps toward his mother as he spoke. His voice sounded strange to Susan, in fact it didn’t sound like Michael at all, and he had an evil look in his eye; just like his dad. Susan wriggled back a little as she said “Michael. Michael, son you’re scaring me.” Michael smiled and approached further as he said,

“Michael is gone. You might remember me, I’m his father.” Susan started crying again, wriggling frantically now as she said, “Michael, this isn’t funny son!” Michael walked the remaining two steps to his mother crawling pathetically about the floor and picked her up by the hair, putting the knife to her throat he said, “Who’s laughing babe. On our first date I picked you daffodils from your mum’s garden.” Susan was unable to fight; frozen by fear as she said, “Please, please just let me go” through her infernal sobbing.

Chris walked Susan over to a chair and sat her down on it. He pulled rope from his pocket and began tying her in place as he said, “On our second date we made out under the old railway bridge.” Susan struggled briefly, which got her nowhere. Chris slapped her. Hard.

Susan pleaded “Chris what are you doing, we loved each other?” Chris finished tying Susan and went out the back door. Coming back in seconds later he started dragging Susan, chair and all over to the kitchen window. Susan screamed loudly as she saw what Chris wanted her to; her other two children were tied to chairs in the garden shed. Their throats slit wide open, like bloody smiles.

Chris said, “Yes, I loved you. I really did, and the kids were my world.” Chris is getting angrier, his voice getting louder frightening Susan even more, if that was possible. “So how do you think I felt when you replaced me? I wasn’t even cold for Christ sake. Chris lost his temper and started shouting “THE KIDS, CALLING THAT BASTARD DADDY, AND YOU LOVING EVERY MINUTE. HOW COULD YOU?” As Chris asked his final question, he made it rhetorical by running the knife across Susan’s jugular like a hot knife through butter. “YOU COW!”

Still in a fit of rage, Chris walked over to John’s body and started stabbing him in the stomach. Up and down he plunged the knife, saying “Bastard” on every stroke, blood spattering on his face, and as he keeps it up drenching his sweater. Chris stopped when his arms ached and he felt satisfied by his work. Chris/Michael walked over to Susan dead on the kitchen chair, dropped the knife and fell to his knees. Picking the knife back up, he kissed her hand twice and cut his own throat.