From then on, Dr. Thorne would show the boy, slowly becoming a man, slides. Each slide with an inkblot on it. Each slide, an aspect of the boys forgotten life. Every day he gave the same answers, to the same slides, the same expression on his face as he said it. One was a house, he always said. Dr. Thorne, through further investigation, discovered that his patient had been arrested in his own house, kneeling over the body of his murdered father. The next slide was always three boys leaning against a car. Dr. Thorne later found out that the boys three brothers watched as the police dragged their youngest brother, bloody and nearly unconscious, out of the house. They said nothing, the police reports said, not even a word. The last slide, though, Dr. Thorne never could figure out. The boy, now a man, would always see a butterfly. Dr. Thorne did not know why, this boy, this murderer, would see such a delicate creature come out of the dark, ominous ink spots that so often contained the horrific images of the boy's past. As the years passed, Dr. Thorne came no closer to revealing the mystery of the boy's interpretations and after a while lost hope. It was not until a year before today, the boy's last day, when Dr. Thorne regained his long lost curiosity. The boy, now a man, had served his sentence. He had had no outbreaks, no misdemeanors, no misconduct, for twenty years. Dr. Thorne knew his time with his patient was running out. He had old questions that needed answers before the boy was released and lost forever. Now, today, is the boys last day, his last appointment, Dr. Thorne's last chance. Dr. Thorne picks up the boys file that had so recently fallen to the floor and addresses the slightly shaking man, no longer a boy, sitting on the table in front of him.
"Jonathan, I would like to ask you some questions. Would that be alright?"
Dr. Thorne's hand reaches for several cables. The patient nods submissively, tired and aware of the routine. Dr. Thorne attaches one end of the cables to the man's neck and chest and head. The other ends, he attaches to a large machine.
"Jonathan, would you mind lying down. This is your last examination and I would like to run some tests."
The man, whose eyes, still young and boyish, are the only thing that resembles the photo on the top of the page in Dr. Thorne's arms, removes his hands from under his legs, and lies down flat on his back. Dr. Thorne inserts a long IV into his patient's arm. The man, lying on the table, shivers slightly.
"Jonathan?"
"Yes, sir."