drmurder

[drmurder]

CLOSED for @steadypour

The vigil was sad, but of course it would be - it was for a troubled young girl who was not yet dead, not quite alive. Amelia couldn't help but remember one rainy night some months ago, when Eliza banged on the clinic door late one evening. I need something to make my head quiet, she begged. I'm not a psychiatrist, Amelia replied coldly before turning Eliza away. It wasn't that she didn't want to help, but her hands were shaking and her vision was blurry from the second bottle of wine. How was she supposed to treat someone else's problems when she was a disaster herself? But what could have changed if Amelia opened up the door to someone who begged for help?

When an older member of the church began yet another prayer, she backed towards the doors then slipped out quietly. Everyone was far too occupied with their own grief to notice one missing person. There was far off thunder and clouds were racing for the church, but rain hadn't begun to fall yet. She had at least ten minutes until she'd have to head back in, from the looks of it. A Marlboro contrasted the Loewe purse it was pulled from, but Amelia needed something to keep her sane. One drag, two drags, three drags.

The door opened gently, but the sound still made her jump. Luckily, Loretta wasn't the kind of person who cared about the city doctor persona. Amelia didn't put up any pretenses around her, because she would probably be more annoyed than impressed. " Don't tell anyone. " Amelia offered the pack to Loretta. " A cigarette smoking doctor might not go over well. "

[drmurder]

Amelia had never been so bothered by the rhythmic tick tock, tick tock of the old clock on the wall. Most of the outdated equipment had been replaced when she moved in a bit over a year ago, but she left the clock up after discovering the initials of previous doctors on the back. She carved in her own without quite knowing why she bothered leaving proof of her existence here, then returned it to its place. Now, it mocked her with passing seconds then minutes, to make a decision. She could either make an appearance at the vigil at the expense of her own sanity, or risk the town ire and skip it.

Eventually, the former won out. She let out a sigh, then readied to leave. Of course a stray patient made his way through after she already locked up the clinic. Amelia was all too familiar with Eli's problems.

Her eyes narrowed at his request. Every person who lived here - from the young shop clerk or the aging church elder - found a different way to ask her for a prescription something to make them feel just a little better. Eli used a sophomore-aged injury as his own. " Catch." Amelia shuffled through her purse for a moment, then tossed something his way. " Ever heard of Advil? "

( 𖤐 CLOSED STARTER ) — Elijah x Amelia. Where? Just outside Family Medicine When? Not long before the vigil @drmurder

"Shit, fuck," Eli jumped out of his truck and took three long strides across the road, cigarette dangling from his mouth. He’d figured she was green enough still not to close up shop for the vigil — but there she was, loading up her car. That car. The one half the town already had opinions about. Maybe she was going. And it hit him, then — the vigil wasn’t just for the grieving. It was pulling in the curious, too. Mourning and morbid tourism, hand in hand. He breathed out smoke and tension in the same breath, though neither seemed to leave him fully. He looked worse for wear. Storm-weathered, with something tight behind his eyes like he hadn’t slept right in a decade. Or two. Pain was just background hum now. Static. “Dr. Mercer.” No hello. No pleasantries. Just the kind of greeting that sounded like bad news. “I’ll be out of your hair in two minutes.” A beat. Quieter: “Got somewhere to be. Guess you do too.” He didn’t say vigil. Didn’t need to. It hung in the air like smoke — slow and bitter, curling off the end of his cigarette the same way the whole damn day had been burning down. “You got anythin' for... old pain?” A pause. A shift. “It flares up when —” He shook his head once. Then once more. “Just need somethin' for the flare-ups. The rest is covered.”

[drmurder]

profile on DR. AMELIA MERCER, THE BUTCHER

age. 38 \ pronouns. she/her \ fc. jenna coleman \ career. doctor at family medical

001 . An estrangement between siblings is by no means uncommon, so as a young child Amelia thought nothing of her mother screaming at her strange, unkempt uncle. They visited him in a small town in Indiana with a name that a five year old would giggle at - Bone Gap. It sounded like something from her storybooks, where a villain may have hailed from, but in reality, it was a rundown spot in the middle of nowhere.  Amelia’s nose scrunched up, hand grasped tightly in her mother’s, as they walked up onto the porch of what could only be described as a dilapidated shack. The three corpses of rusted cars picked clean of parts sat abandoned in the yard; trash cans were overflowing and newspapers lay uncollected; the wood of the porch groaned beneath their feet, warning them of rot. Amelia couldn’t understand at all why they’d come all the way here from Baltimore. She wanted to be tucked into her canopy bed with her stuffed animals strewn around her and a storybook in her lap. Instead, she hid herself behind her mother when the door creaked open. An unfamiliar face peered through a small crack, a chain preventing it from opening all the way. It shut again, then opened fully to reveal a man who may have looked like her mother once, but the resemblance had long since faded. Her mother was always poised, with expensive well-pressed clothing and hair smoothed into some sort of elaborate style. This man had dirt stains and holes in his t-shirt, a beard that grew in all different directions, and a distance in his eyes that Amelia would never see in anyone else. “ This is the final straw. “ Her mother made no attempt to keep her voice down as she argued with her brother. Amelia sat on the rotting porch, drawing in the dirt with a stick, while she listened idly. “ I’m telling you Monica, stop worrying about me and stop naggin’ me. This is where I’m meant to be! “ There was so much conviction in his words, but Amelia couldn’t understand why he had such a grip on such a tragic place. Eventually, the yelling stopped and her mother emerged in a rage she’d never seen before. They left, and Amelia never even learned her uncle’s name. 

002 . Study harder. Work harder. Be better than you are. No matter how many awards she won or tests she aced, her parents always wanted more from her. They wanted to brag about their successful child, and they wanted her to be beyond comparison. Mistakes were punished harshly and victories were dismissed. How else was one supposed to treat themself, if that is how they were treated? 

003 . At Johns Hopkins, she was no longer top of the class. There was a field of others who were just as intelligent and just as talented. It festered jealousy within her, and a resentment that she could not contain. Her greatest competition was diagnosed with ALS in their final year. Part of her felt relieved that, finally, she could be the best once again. But witnessing his downfall, a spiral into an incurable illness, brought out compassion that had been foreign to her until then. They grew close, and he encouraged her work. She foolishly told him that he wouldn’t die. He did. 

004 . Doctor Amelia Mercer. An award-winning brain surgeon researching a cure for ALS. Are they proud now? Is anyone proud now? Is anyone watching, does anyone care? 

005 . There was comfort in opulence. Gucci shoes and Dior suits; Le Labo perfume and $600 hair appointments. She would go on vacation to expensive resorts and pay for friends to come along. ( But were they friends, or simply a paid company? Would they hold her through tears, or wait for her credit card to make an appearance? ) More than one luxury vehicle was totaled, of no consequence to her bank account. The dealership expected a purchase annually. Her townhome was large and empty and lonely, but the art on the walls cost thousands per canvas. Was this the future her parents pushed for? 

006 . There are no mistakes in the medical field. Especially not while someone’s skin is splayed open, revealing the center for their thoughts, their motions, their soul. There was liquor on her breath that day, but no one dared say a word. It was a known habit of hers - one drink too many with no regard for the time of day. No one dared challenge her on it, though. It hadn’t been a problem thus far, so the scrub nurse kept her mouth shut that day as she slipped gloves onto Amelia’s waiting hands. [ REDACTED ]

007 . When did alcohol become such a problem? Was it watching her father with his bourbon? Her mother with her wine? Or back further, with her nameless uncle reeking of beer? It coursed through Amelia’s veins in the most pleasant way, silencing all the anxiety that she refused to acknowledge. She told herself that she worked better buzzed, too. One drink before surgery steadied her hands, but three led to the death of a patient. It was alcohol, with its sweet relief, that allowed her to temper her tantrums of guilt and depression following the death. Episodes that no one would ever know about. A crack in a delicate mask, repaired at the door and fastened tightly in public.

008 . Doctor Amelia Mercer mysteriously left her position and research behind, in a shocking turn of events no one saw coming. Her career was her entire life; why would she suddenly disappear? The answer was quite simple - she wasn’t given a choice. Officially, she did not [ REDACTED ], but the board knew differently. She was a liability and had been for a while now. This was their excuse to get rid of their shining star, who was dying out rapidly before their eyes. 

009 . Where could she go? Where would no one know her name? [ REDACTED ]

 Bone Gap, Indiana. A name left in the far reaches of her memory, symbolized by a hoarder’s lawn and a screaming match between siblings. Maybe she should run there - a place loathed by her mother, but cherished by her uncle. Her life had been haunted by that nameless man. Fueled by curiosity and fear, Amelia left her mistakes behind for the bare necessities of the midwest. 

010. The townsfolk weren’t used to the same luxuries that were common in her circles in Baltimore. People often stopped to take pictures of her Porsche or commented on her perfume. At first, people would offer to have her over for dinner. How lonely did she look to them? But the offers petered out as no, thank you became the expected answer. They were kind, yet irritating. This wasn’t true kindness, not that she’d known much of that herself. These were saccharin, cloying niceties that seldom felt genuine. Bless your heart, they’d say, but she’d lost hers long ago. 

[drmurder]

"Come on. You're too easy. Like anyone really wants to hear things turned out just peachy." WILDERNESS 1x01 "Happily Ever After"

[drmurder]

@ryebreadgf / The Truth About Grief, Fortesa Latifi / bone deep, m.v.e / Sidewalk, Richard Silken / @fridayiminlovemp3 / 60 hours, m.v.e / @itsblackleader / Salt, Nayyirah Waheed / @heavensghost

[drmurder]

“I’ll have to be all by myself, forever. I’ve missed the life that was supposed to be mine. I’ve shut myself off from it.”

— Margaret Atwood, from Moral Disorder and Other Stories; “The Other Place,” 

[drmurder]

The Butcher: Do you have anything low cholesterol? The Lament: Napkins.

[drmurder]

JENNA COLEMAN as EMBER MANNING The Jetty, Season 1 (episodes 3-4)