Psycho-Analysis: The Beginning Read online

  She took my hand as we walked down into a lower level room. This room was a lot colder and was covered in white tiles from top to bottom on the side where the autopsy table was situated. I assumed this was a good idea because if blood splattered on the walls and floor it could all simply be hosed down. On the other side there were over fifty draws embedded into the cold metallic framed walls. The bodies were just barely wrapped up in a fine cloth and some were showing signs of decomposition. The skin was mottled and tight, the eyes hollow and dead. I never realized how heavy a dead person was.

  We looked at over ten different bodies while Aunty Morgan explained to me how to examine their organs to find out the cause of death. It was truly amazing, informative and interesting. I felt enlarged hearts and guts sliding in-between my small hands, pressing my passion further, allowing me to set my untainted eyes free and to give in to the dark urge pressing me forward. I remember feeling my cheeks starting to hurt as my telling smile took over my expression. Alas something was missing and I knew all too well what it was. The pulsating beat of the heart in my hands, the smell of blood filling the air, life and death hanging in the balance.

  We were about to examine another body when the alarm on my watch went off; it was time to go and meet my parents. I felt the time I’d spent here was in no way done, I had to come back! It was so addictive and I liked the feeling of being in a space where I could experiment and discover so much more visually than by reading books.

  I thanked my aunt, gave her a big hug and ran out of the morgue to wait for their car to pull up. A couple of minutes later they arrived and I remember getting in the car and sitting there in a fascinated trance so thick that I never heard a word my parents said. From that point on I was consumed by my fascination with life and death, even more so than before.

  I would go to the library after school every day to read books on different topics but always in the area of life and death, science, fiction and medical. I was hooked! The more I read the more I craved knowledge.

  I would have dreams, dreams of cats with extra limbs that I had sewn together. I had taken animal form, flying through a dark red sky plucking out animal’s eyes with my black blood stained beak. I was savouring and devouring the metallic taste that slid down my throat, so warm and addictive.

  Chapter 2

  Defeat But Never Acceptance

  God, how did I ever end up in this place? I once had a life, a very good life, a family and… The squeaking sound of a wheelchair passing by my room interrupted my trail of thought.

  As I looked up I peered towards the door on the wall opposite my bed, there was Brenda Biscotti waving frantically as per usual. She was all fun and games until she got upset; then she would become very dangerous!

  Two months ago a new volunteer helper was trying to get her to eat in the dinner hall, a bit too forcefully for her liking and Brenda flipped. She grabbed a fork and stabbed it sideways into the poor girl’s neck screaming, “You eat it, you eat it!”

  The psychiatric hospital faced a lawsuit three weeks after the incident and had to pay for the girl’s counselling, loss of earnings as well as compensation for her trauma. I think they will be paying out for a while. Who would have thought someone could do so much damage with one fork? From that point on, no metal cutlery was allowed even with supervision within the walls, and what better to replace them with than white plastic ones.

  The thing is that no one would really expect that from the normally eccentric Brenda, unless that person had upset her before. She must now be in her eighties. She had the kind of face you felt you were safe with, a grandmother’s face filled with love and understanding. Her brown soulful eyes, would allow you to read them so deeply that you knew she had been through a lot in her life. Let’s not forget the smile, it was sort of a half and half smile slightly more raised on the right side, shining with her fuchsia pink lipstick. She would never be seen without her lipstick.

  Yes, you could say she might be a bit obsessive about some things like her appearance, but each to their own. I remember her once telling me in the recreation room, ‘appearance is my life, and some might call me shallow. Just because I am in a sick place that does not mean I have to look sick. No, I try, even though people don’t understand me.’ She always sounded lonely I thought to myself.

  “Bye, Brenda”, I called as her smile widened. Poor demented woman.

  I miss the sound of Sue waking me up in the morning with her sweet little voice. Placing kisses on my cheek saying “Wake up daddy.”

  She was the best thing I had ever created in this life and the feeling of her not being close to me made my heart feel empty and cold. In my crude reality of this place I had truly nothing of value, nothing that made me feel alive. It made my mind want to blur the past and present together in a delusional state of my living reality. What can I say, the sterile truths of waking up to the white walls that caged me in this prison ended up being the blank screens I projected my memories onto, to relive the best moments of my past life.

  I truly believe that Sue was the only person in this world who loved me unconditionally. She was my world, my absolute everything. Not even my love for Sally could equal the love I had in my heart for my little girl. She was my flesh and blood, family in the purest sense of the word and now I would be without her smile forever. It was a wound that ran deep inside my core.

  Sally had managed to convince me, for a while, that a couple could last and that love between partners would never die. To this day I don’t think she knows how her ‘love’ destroyed me. I resented how many nights I‘d sat on the sofa waiting for her to come home like a loyal dog. It turned out I was just simply a dog in her eyes, a fool that could be easily lied to and cheated on. A year ago it had all come to a head, the shouting and arguments never stopped and even her voice sounded like white noise in my ears. She had initially blocked me out and I had retaliated, doing the same to her in return. All we had been left with in the end was the question about Sue. I didn’t want to lose my little girl and Sally would use her as emotional blackmail to make me agree with whatever she wanted. My life had no colour before Sue, nor after. I lived in a greyscale, washed out, colourless world surrounded by thick, heartless people. They were all faceless with no capacity to retain a soul. I mainly kept to myself and no one mattered any more, not now, not without my Sue.

  My barren room was painted pure white with no sharp corners and no personal effects were allowed; only what they considered a necessity was there. I had a fitted wooden wardrobe that was finished in the same white paint that plastered the walls, and a small clock hung on the left side of the opposite wall. It is bland, unstimulating and tasteless.

  I never understood the reason for the colour, nor did I try to. I simply thought the colour was the embodiment of evil! After a while the walls and doors looked the same as they blended into a white smudge in the blind spot in my visual mind. I had been stripped of my love for colour and the vibrancy of the coloured palette that paints objects, nature and people. No, we were a black and white film played as ghosts in an alternate reality and the only way we could ever escape would be death.

  I never would have felt comfortable staying in my pyjamas all day. Sitting on my bed I knew I had lost all motivation to get my hygiene in order. I don’t really know what the point is any more. Even my obsessive compulsive tendencies took a back seat to my dazed state of mind. My face was feeling rough and my teeth felt fuzzy and coated in last night’s dinner. I felt like I was losing myself to the point I would sit motionless as a bare shell of the man I used to be. I had to force myself to get through the daily routine motions, it was all the same to me every passing day.

  As I gathered my robe and slippers my mind sailed off to my wife, Sally, what is she doing now and how come she hadn’t come to see me since I was brought to this draining place?

  I remember the sweet smell of her flowery perfume, her bright smile at our wedding and the extraordinary love-filled expression in her eyes as tears of pure
joy streamed from her face when our Sue was born, truly unforgettable.

  She always wished for a close family although her work as a doctor made it very hard to achieve this. Sally never set aside intimate time for us and all the arguments we had about her work kept her away from home more as time moved on. This somehow separated and set us into a more distant relationship. Room-mates, smoke, mirrors and masks shown to each other on a daily basis to hide from Sue how the blade of love had turned to show an uglier side, one that would tear our daughter’s heart apart.

  We would try to talk once she had gone to bed with overloaded expressions voiced by sighs and tears. No communication, no love, nothing. All promises were banished into an endless abyss of broken trust, lies and ruins of a life and love we had once obtained. All had been said and emotions were over expressed, no kindness was shown to each other or consideration of how the other one felt. The silence was deafening and hurtful, but what could I do? I wanted Sue to have us both and I never wanted to give up even though it was obvious Sally had given up a year ago. Words became irrelevant and then the only thing we ever talked about was Sue.

  Sometimes I would lie awake in bed waiting until three in the morning to see her, wishing to hold her in my arms. She would arrive so late, allowing ample time for my paranoid, eccentric mind to wonder.

  One night Sue was staying over at Sally’s sister’s house and I was home alone. I sat by the fireplace trying to relax but the old clock on the mantelpiece irritated me with the monotonous sound of its relentless ticking. Time passing by with no company became unbearable. Why I felt the sudden urge to go see her never appeared to me in my thoughts. I was a man possessed and I could not ignore the desperate gut feeling that I was about to lose her. I had to see her!

  Unable to relax I got dressed, nothing was keeping me at the house. I drove a couple of blocks down the street to see Sally at the hospital. I thought it would make for a pleasant surprise, a chance to do something romantic. This might be what was needed to reignite the dead flame of our toxic love.

  The drivers on the road were slow in pace and at every red light I felt my skin change the same colour, heat rising in my face, flushing me as my eyes strained to focus as the cold air misted up my windscreen. I parked the car erratically and rushed in, I just realised then that I had my slippers on instead of my shoes. I didn’t care, I was here now.

  I approached the reception with sweat beading my brow, trying to control my accelerated state. Through my short breaths I asked the young man who was sat behind the desk what floor Sally was working on tonight. Two other nurses had previously ignored my question. After waiting a couple of seconds which felt like an eternity, he gave me an answer that was upsetting and bewildering. She was off-duty tonight! Where could my Sally be and who was she with? I sat for two hours in the waiting area, gob-smacked. I felt like I had stopped breathing completely at this point, and then it started, the pulsating sound in my ears as the adrenaline began. I could see them looking at me but I didn’t care.

  I walked past the reception desk on my way out as one of the nurses called me over. She asked me if I was Khedlar, Sally’s brother and if I minded giving my sister an envelope with her new shift roster inside. I agreed and walked out to the car. I couldn’t hear anything at this point, I felt this must have been a sick joke surely. I threw myself into the car and broke down feeling hopelessly sad and fuzzy.

  I had never thought of going to see Sally at work before, the staff could not have known who I was, but her brother!? Is that what she had told them who I was? It was shocking! We had had such good times in the past but I remember thinking that any love we held for each other had slowly vanished in her eyes.

  I remember passing out in the car and waking up hours later by an old diner. I had no idea how I had even driven there, to be honest it didn’t really matter, I now knew she was going to leave me for sure.

  The lonely feeling came welling back into my head. What was she up to? Was she with someone else? How long had she been unfaithful? Was she ever in love with me? Did she hate me so much that she wanted to hurt me in the worst way she could? I could not believe what a fool I had been to think she was even capable of love, that she could love me! She had been messed up in her head from the day I met her. I had given her security, love and cared for her and this was how she repaid me? No, I will not allow her to do this to me, she is mine and mine alone! When I got home I decided I would comb my hair, lie back on the bed, close my eyes and attempt to get some rest until the turmoil in my head subsided.

  I will not torment myself and think of her any more. That was the past and this is my present and like a deep scar it shall remain unmoveable, permanent.

  I glanced at my right hand and a scar on the back of it caught my eye and sparked off a memory. My twin brother and I had asked my dad to take us fishing one day but he had said he was too busy, so we went alone.

  Father was always busy. It was a shame as I always asked for father/son time but never really got much. We had gotten used to it and over time just got on with it by ourselves. I always prided myself in being independent and I thought not needing people to make me happy was one of my best qualities.

  As my brother and I walked down to the lake together not one word escaped our lips. I think in a way we had both just realised that father wasn’t ever coming and it was just us two alone. We were two young brothers who had no common interests and absolutely nothing to talk about. We set up the bait and the rods all ready to do some fishing, which occupied us for a good ten minutes. This was one of the few times my brother and I had ever done something like this together and it just felt awkward to say the least. Although I wished I had had a closer relationship with him, I knew that the differences in our characters would never have permitted it. Nope, we were better apart.

  We sat on the edge of the river for hours, in silence, no words exchanged between us just stares and a feeling of rivalry as brothers do tend to have.

  As I sat by the river’s edge peering across at my brother I realized how much better he was at these kind of things than I. I had already lost interest in fishing as we were walking towards the river. The only reason I didn’t turn back was due to my competitive nature. I wanted to catch the bigger fish and show father. I thought about the scalpel that was in my pocket and how I was so tempted to cut his line. I knew this was better in my mind because in reality he would beat me up for it. Several flies hovered around the bait, I was so bored. My brother was entertained with his pop music which made him bob his head to the beat. How can I be related to him was the thought that often crossed my mind? He is so shallow and uncomplicated, what a waste of space.

  Then after ages of waiting patiently I felt a strong tug on the line. I reeled it in and there in front of me a massive fish hung suspended in the air from my line. As it flopped about I stared at it; it was beautiful. I could see it slowly running out of breath when my brother ran over and grabbed it. My natural reaction was to tug it out of his hand like a fish tug of war, but he overpowered me in a second. The fish became loose and the hook pierced my hand.

  My brother ran away, he just left me there. I stood still in pain and anger; he had stolen my fish which had taken me hours to catch and he had hooked me in the process. I don’t know why I had even bothered at all really. He always took the easy way out or any way out for that matter when it came to being in the same space as me. He was a bully just like all those boys at school, they were all the same and none of them understood me. I guess he was acting his age but I was too mature in my mind to put up with such immature acts. I wanted to get him back for what he had done and one thing was very clear in my mind, I will never go fishing with him again!

  The cut never healed properly and there were bumps in the scar tissue where the skin had been ripped and torn further, mostly from me tugging at it to get the hook out. It was a day to remember. For some reason the most painful memories tend to be the ones I remember with the most clarity.

  Chapter 3
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  White Plastic Hell

  Everything was white and the one thing I never understood was why there wasn’t a single picture in colour. In fact, there were no pictures at all. The staff had told me it could scare some of the more delusional patients into one of their screaming tantrums. ‘They would see a picture of a sunset and some seagulls and they would think it’s a scary flying monster coming to get them from the fiery pits of hell,’ one of the nurses had said.

  No sharp objects were permitted in any of the rooms. All robe ties were taken from us and kept hidden away so we wouldn’t try to strangle ourselves. We weren’t allowed drinking glasses or any type of sewing equipment. This was perfect as the stupid white plastic cups blended in well with the lovely bland theme and at times would leek when I poured my morning coffee as the heat proved more than it could handle.

  I felt sorry for a lot of the patients. Some looked normal, but normality was only found on the outside, inside you could never be sure of what they were thinking. Humour masking anger, hands left to the devils commands, noises in the night that chill you to the bone. No answers, nothing new, just stuck in a repetitive routine in the life of a mental patient. I have discovered not all is as it seems and the ones which seem the most welcoming are the ones with the most malevolent intentions.

  Thinking about malevolent intentions drew my mind back a couple of years. It was Sunday and Sally had been preparing a roast while I played hide and seek with Sue in the back garden. The doorbell rang and Sue ran off into the house I ran with her making it a race, she loved to run. Her aunt Len was on the other side of the door. I remember that from the moment I opened the door Len was giving me looks of disgust. I never even bothered with her as I knew exactly what she thought of me. She was trying to play happy families thinking I was falling for it. I wasn’t convinced as I could see right through her masks and noticed her gaze constantly drift to any visible money that had been “accidental left out.” I would scatter money round the house on purpose making Sally aware. Then I would show Sally the money was gone and that Len was stealing the money the second our backs were turned. Sally didn’t care she would reply with things such as, ‘She’s family’ and ‘I don’t care she’s my sister, she can take what she likes.’