Doctor Who_ The Twin Dilemma - Eric Saward [2]
'Feeling guilty isn't enough!' The doctor's voice stabbed at him.
'You once told me you hated your children.' Archie nodded. 'Then do something about it! Negative neurosis eats at the very being of a person. Everyone hates their children, wife, mother or father for one reason or another. To want them dead is not enough. You must do something about it!'
The words echoed inside Archie's head as he wondered whether his analyst wasn't moonlighting for Murder Incorporated.
'Well...' said Archie, somewhat stiffly, 'you prescribe that I should kill my children?'
'No ...' The psychiatrist slouched back in his chair. 'I want you to think positively about killing them. Imagining them dead isn't enough. In your mind, you must work out a way of committing the perfect murder.'
'And then?'
'And then you will have power over your fantasy. When that occurs, you will be able to control it. Turn it to work positively for you. You understand?'
Archie didn't.
'I know that you love your children, but you are also jealous of them. That's why you want them dead. But if in your mind you can also kill them, then you will have turned a negative neurosis into a positive one. By seeing your fantasy for what it is, you will come to understand your jealousy.'
Archie thought for a moment. 'But should I find a way of committing the perfect murder, and then decide to carry it out, what will happen?'
The psychiatrist smiled. 'If your crime is perfect, then no-one will know. But should you have made a mistake, then you will go to prison for the rest of your natural life... And I will lose a very lucrative client.'
Archie involuntarily reached for one of the doctor's cigarettes, lit it, then coughed. Although he hadn't understood what the analyst had said, it would give him a great deal to think about.
'You may go now,' said the doctor dismissively. '1 will see you the same time on Thursday.'
In front of his bathroom mirror, Archie continued to idly comb his hair. The conversation with his psychiatrist had taken place some months earlier. He still didn't fully understand what had been said and neither had he worked out a way of committing the perfect murder. Although his guilt had returned with a vengeance, and he still hated the twins, he had at least started to work again, which gave him a certain satisfaction. All in all, life had become much as it was a year ago, except for one thing: he had developed a taste for specially made cigarettes.
As usual, Archie's hair remained impervious to the activity of the comb and he gave up. Instead he set to work on a large blackhead he had been cultivating. As his stubby fingers pummelled and massaged the blocked pore, his concentration was interrupted by the bang of the front door. Nimo had gone out without saying goodbye to the twins. Archie knew this would cause offence and now dreaded to say goodnight to them himself.
The offending pore liberated, Archie slipped on his best evening jacket and glanced at himself in the mirror. Pleased with what he saw, he then made his way along the hall towards the twins'
bedroom. Downstairs he could hear the gentle whirr of well-oiled machinery - the android babysitter had arrived. Archie smiled. He knew the twins hated androids. Androids had no sense of their own importance and therefore were impossible to embarrass. It will drive them wild with frustration! he thought.
As he approached the twin's room, he slowed his pace. His nerve was going. So it was with some trepidation he tapped on their bedroom door. Not waiting for them to reply, he pushed it open and entered.
Poor Archie wasn't very good at pretending. The smile that covered his face would have caused a cat to laugh. His mouth was twisted and strained and the muscles in his cheeks twitched with the effort of keeping his lips apart. The smile itself resembled a terrible razor slash, his red lips the open wound, the white teeth standing in for the exposed bone. 'Hallo, boys,' he said, attempting to maintain the smile. This made him sound like some tenth rate ventriloquist,