‘Three people connected by trauma, haunted by the past, healed together.‘
– The Quietist
The Quietist by Daniel David Gothard publishes today August 26th with Roundfire Books and is described as ‘a gripping psychological thriller’. In celebration of publication day I have an extract to share with you all today which I hope you enjoy.
[ About The Quietist ]
Dr Lanning, Catherine Stannard and Patrick Hawton are thrown together by a motorway tragedy. Dr Lanning is treating Catherine and Patrick for PTSD, the loss of their loved ones, their different approaches to feeling and dealing with survivor guilt.
Through shared therapy sessions, Catherine and Patrick form a bond, allowing them to relinquish their previous lives and inhibitions. Dr Lanning sees an opportunity to study them, using them to rebuild his reputation. In doing so, he creates an environment where Catherine and Patrick begin to lose sight of their new realities.
[ Extract ]
Lanning closed his office door and sat at his desk. He unbuttoned his coat and unscrewed the top of his bottle of water. The cool liquid in his mouth pooled for a few seconds and allowed the psychiatrist a ponderous moment to think straight; analytical sessions with trauma patients always made him feel tense, as if, even after so many years doing this work, he still might say something to exacerbate the mental pain. And as he swallowed the mouthful he reached for Patrick’s file. Medical records were computerised now, but Lanning kept hard-copy notes and had been sent photographs of the crash scene by the transport police. ‘Christ almighty’, Lanning whispered, staring at the hideous images. Even though he had seen them all before it was still a shock to witness the crush and rip of the human anatomy in a high impact incident. An image of the dead Maggie came in to focus, slumped on an airbag, bunched up as if her bones had been removed. ‘I hope he doesn’t remember everything. I wonder whether he saw her in that state?’ He closed the file and put it in the top drawer of his desk. The psychiatrist had conferred with two colleagues about the efficacy of showing some of the less horrific photographs to Patrick, as a way — a mental bridge — in to his memories, as part of the recovery process. But the colleagues had both thought it was too early in the treatment planning, that such a push could, potentially, create a catatonic positioning of Patrick’s thoughts and send his psyche so deep inside the darkest recesses of his brain that he might never lead a normal life again. And that plainly wasn’t a risk worth taking.
Lanning made himself a cup of tea and began typing up his notes from the earlier session with Patrick: It is my opinion the patient, Patrick Hawton, is still in a state of complete shock, so severe that he appears oblivious to the tremendous levels of change and trauma he has experienced. As in all our previous sessions, Patrick provides me with relevant information and is highly congenial, but his total lack of awareness, immediate memory recall and an inability to express even the most basic of painful thoughts is a clear sign that he still has a long way to go towards any level of psychological balance. He is suffering from a massive aftermath of post- traumatic stress disorder and it is my recommendation that I continue to treat him on a daily basis. Lanning stopped, took a long sip of tea from his flask cup, and wondered about adding medication suggestions to the notes. Patrick was currently being prescribed painkillers and some antibiotics for a leg infection, but nothing for his mind. Lanning thought of going further in relation to the photographs again and positing the idea of pushing Patrick with details, questions, challenging facts, incrementally harder and harder each day to face his tragedy. But psychiatry and tough love compressed into one mix was a risky business and nobody wanted the worst outcome for the patient, or a familial lawsuit for malpractice. Lanning knew he had a case worth following, that there was a deeper reason and purpose about Patrick and his consequential behaviour — this might even become something he could publish in the Journal of Psychiatry to re-establish his credentials. Lanning had felt like a dinosaur in his discipline for years. He could do good, help Patrick back to the permanence of reality and provide him with the self-knowledge and tools for a future. Surely that was his duty? And his opportunity. Lanning saved his notes and closed the file, finished his tea and went to lunch
The Quietist ~ Purchase Link
[ Bio ]
Daniel David Gothard is an award shortlisted author who has published three novels and many short stories, in the UK and abroad. He lives in Reading, UK.
Instagram ~ @danieldavidgothard
