“No, I mean I was,” I explained clumsily. “I don’t know what to do any more, I seem to have hit a dead end.”
“What happened to your hands Khedlar? Been fighting?” asked Alison as she desperately tried to focus on my hands. Her eyes rolled drunkenly in her head.
“No Alison, I feel a bit embarrassed telling you but I had a really awful nightmare last night. I woke up punching the walls. I guess all that has happened has left me broken inside, you know what I mean?” I asked, playing with her heart strings.
“Oh my God, you poor thing,” she replied, her eyes searching mine for pain.
I created a mirror in my eyes to bounce her emotions back to her. She seemed embarrassed for even asking the question. It had worked I thought.
Shawn also looked disappointed in Alison as she made a drunken suggestion, trying to change the subject quickly, “Why don’t you get in contact with your brother and ask him if he knows anything?” She looked pleased with herself and had a grin all over her face.
I started to say, “But isn’t my brother…,” but Shawn interrupted me.
“Khedlar, Demetrius is dead, don’t you remember? He drowned in that river,” he said giving Alison a filthy look.
“Yeah you’re right Shawn, I don’t know where my mind was at for a moment. I thought he was still alive but then I wonder who I saw buried after his sky diving accident. Was that him too?” I asked, thoroughly confused.
“What are you talking about, there was no sky diving accident Khedlar.”
“The medicines they gave me in hospital have messed me up a bit Shawn. I get really disorientated sometimes, just ignore me,” I said trying to make him feel sorry for me and to cover my tracks. So it seems his death is just another drug-induced hallucination. I still felt like something was wrong and left unanswered.
“You are a good man who has gone through so much. Take a break and give yourself some time to deal with everything that has happened to you. You’ll be fine, trust me,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“You are right Shawn, thank you.” He smiled at me. I turned to look at Alison but she was snoring gently on the couch. “I think she drank an entire bottle of wine by herself you know,” I joked.
“Yes, I’m afraid she doesn’t know when to stop. I’d better get her home. Thank you for the lovely meal. I really enjoyed it Khedlar. We must do this again; you come to us next time. We’ll see you soon, bye.”
He struggled a bit to get Alison’s coat on and I held the door open as he walked out, holding her in his arms. He waved good-bye over his shoulder and struggled to walk to his front door with Alison out cold and oblivious. I waved back and quickly went in as there was a chill in the air.
Well that went well I thought. I had got some answers about my brother at least, according to Shawn. I had the feeling in the pit of my stomach that something crucially important was missing. Demetrius didn’t die in the river I knew that much for sure. That was all a lie for him to escape the hellish life he had with mother, he’d had enough of it all. We had never stayed in touch with each other, mainly to protect the lie of his death, as well as his whereabouts.
I vaguely remembered standing at a funeral. It was a cold winter’s day with an overcast sky full of storm clouds. The wind whipped at my jacket and hair as I stared at a black casket. I’m sure I saw Demetrius lying inside, all perfectly groomed with his eyes closed and dead to the world. People talked at length about his accident at the wake. They were shocked that he had been alive all these years and nobody knew, except me. Apparently his shoot had malfunctioned when he tried to open it and he had plummeted to his death. It was amazing that he had landed on his back and that there had been something left of his face to be able to bury him with, looking almost normal. His death was instant due to the impact with the ground and he had apparently shattered almost every bone in his body.
Why did I remember all these details so vividly if they didn’t happen? My mother and father had stood by, watching the whole thing without emotion. Mother had commented afterwards that she felt at peace because she could finally bury her long lost boy. Father didn’t say a word, he was numb again, as usual. Everybody had been intrigued by his story and the village gossip about his death lasted for months. Why did I remember this, why? Demetrius would have turned in his grave with mother and father turning up to his second funeral, he had made it very clear they were not to be invited but Aunt Morgan told everyone it was the right thing to do.
Chapter 19
It’s Settled
The following day I was consumed with thoughts about my two brothers. I missed being able to talk to Demetrius, not that we’d ever talked much when we were younger. In fact his voice would irritate out of me at times. My mind had become disturbed and warped from all those years of torture in the white hell. The nurses and doctors were continually experimenting on me with various drug cocktails that inflicted absurd amounts of mental abuse.
Demetrius used to tell me about our brother, the one who was supposedly deformed. He made him out to be a hideous monster, a midget or something unsymmetrical and too grotesque to even imagine. He must have known something I didn’t, but what? I wonder what name Demetrius goes by now, probably something ridiculous like Edgar. That is, if he is even alive.
There was a letter in the post box so I must have missed the semi-expired postman when he came. I picked it up and opened it. It was a letter from the court stating that Dr Fanstick had been found guilty of gross negligence and had been sentenced to four years in prison. It also stated that he would no longer be able to practice medicine as his licence has been permanently revoked.
That is great news I thought to myself. Now I don’t even need to go to court. I hope he really hates prison as much as I hated the white hell and the sessions he condemned me to. I felt like I should feel happier but my emotions were so lost within me that they were hard to access. A slight smile was all I could manage while I read the letter and thought about what to do today.
It was one o’clock and my body felt well rested. My questions were left unanswered. What was the name of my other brother and where was Georgia? It would all have to wait until tomorrow, everything would be shut and it would be impossible to get any information. This was frustrating me. It was Sunday, the day of rest but I felt restless, pent up inside like a viper waiting to strike. I needed to get out, I needed open space to be able to think. My frustration was beginning to turn to anger as my brain fought for answers that simply weren’t there and I had no idea of how to find them.
I found myself walking into the woods and I could smell the pine off the trees impregnating the air. The smell was always stronger after it had rained. I breathed it in deeply, filling my lungs, trying desperately to clear my pounding head.
Time passed without feeling, I was numb as I wandered for miles and I ended up at the park. The sky slowly started to get darker, creating waves on various shades of grey that merged together beautifully. I reached a clearing and sat on a large rock, staring into space, feeling bored and angry.
I heard a strange noise behind me and turned to see what it could be. There was rustling, but it didn’t sound normal, I thought maybe someone was watching me. I strained my eyes in the dull light and noticed movement coming from a bush nearby. I got up and walked over to it, trying not to make too much noise. I wanted to catch whoever or whatever was watching me.
My eyes widened in disbelief as I saw Brenda Biscotti staring back at me. What is she doing out? She is insane!
“Brenda get back here!” I screamed at her as she ran away from me. I chased her for ten minutes. How is she outrunning me I wondered? Something was just not right with this situation. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest as the tension in my shoulders made my head feel pressured, like it was about to explode.
As I came to the clearing where people go to feed the fat ducks it all became clear. Brenda was never there, it had been a hallucination. Everyone was staring at me, laughing and point
ing at my dumbstruck face. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Everyone could see me for what I really was, indisputably mad!
I ran home feeling disappointed with myself. I ended up in the kitchen where I grabbed a pan and placed it on the hob. I poured oil into it, impatiently waiting for it to heat up. I stood in front of it in a trance, tapping my foot and holding a large kitchen knife.
I needed to learn that my behaviour was unacceptable and now I had to be punished. I shoved the knife into the boiling oil and sliced in-between my fingers, just like mother had done to me so many times before. The skin was quite tough to cut through as the layers of scar tissue made it hard and thick. I sat on the kitchen floor bleeding, watching the droplets of blood drip onto the spotless tiles. I won’t make that mistake again I promised myself.
I felt as if I had two personalities inside of me. One was a scared, abused young boy and the other was an uncontrollable raging beast that was fuelled by anger. I knew that only time would force the two to confront each other in a battle until death. Who would win? Who would I be left with? I realised then that I didn’t know myself at all. The little I did know was a well-placed illusion I had created on my own, while I was reading my books and dreaming of being a surgeon.
I had made such a mess on the kitchen floor! I scrubbed vigorously with bleach and a hard brush to clean the blood-stained tiles. The cuts pulled and burned as I moved onto mopping. I didn’t care about the pain, I needed my house to be spotless and free from germs.
I digressed into the living room and went over to the fireplace. I filled it with logs and lit it to get it going. I poured a glass of rum while I gazed at the flames consuming the wood. I felt physically overwhelmed with my lack of emotion and took no pleasure from my surroundings. All I knew was that I was not me, nothing could console my mind and nothing could free my dead heart. I no longer possessed any ounce of humanity. If I was no longer human what had I become?
My attention turned to the box that I’d left forgotten on the side table by my reclining chair. I picked it up, examining it meticulously. My hands began to tremble as I held it up in front on me. How can this small box have contained more knowledge than I’d accumulated in my lifetime? I rolled my sleeves up as the fire made my outer shell warm. I drank the rum feeling it coat my insides with fire. I checked the time, it was five o’clock, the ticking of the clock pulled my mind back, and further back than I was comfortable with. My eyes closed and images blurred out from the darkness.
I was in a house, it was dark and the grandfather clock loomed in the shadows of the ominous hall. I didn’t remember this house nor the feeling of doom that resonated through the walls but I was curious what this memory was going to show me. I knew I wasn’t asleep and too many conscious thoughts could tamper with a genuine memory.
I could feel a draft coming from a window in the hall, the net curtains danced in the trailing breeze. I could hear someone singing, her voice was light and haunting. I had no idea what song it was. I felt intrigued as I walked closer to the sound coming from the room on the far right of the hallway.
A single lamp illuminated the large room with just enough light to be able to make out two figures. They looked like two women who were combing each other’s hair. As I entered the room one of them looked up. Her young face dissolved into a patchwork of uneven, blackened abstract forms. She had seen me! I had a gut feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be in this room, so I ran. Sweat poured down my icy cold flesh as my blood burned through my veins.
The house was vast with so many places I could hide in but I ran to the basement. How I knew where to find it confused me. The stairs descending into the basement were solid concrete. Loose bits of the crumbling walls stuck to the soles of my shoes as I advanced into the darkness.
I could hear crying. It started off softly at first then it grew louder until I felt like my ears were going to bleed. A shadowy figure moved towards me. I was pretty sure it was a child. It was holding a rattle and the movements seemed unnatural. They looked uncoordinated and it was lurching and jolting forwards. The child stopped crying and raised a hand up to me. It was a young boy and I could barely see his small face. He grabbed my hand warmly with his.
“Don’t be scared of mother,” he said as he came closer to reveal his face to me. “You can hide here with me, it’s safe.” I saw him clearly now. It was me.
The following morning I woke up feeling motivated to clean my house. It was slowly getting to how I liked it. The situations that had occurred yesterday was still making my skin crawl and I knew I had to mask my insanity from the world around me. While I was engrossed in polishing my dining room table I heard a knock at the door. I placed the dust cloth down on the table, furious at the interruption and went to see who had the nerve to bother me. I should have known; it was Gary the postman. He stood outside like a lost dog.
“Good morning, sir,” he said as he tried to peer inside my home.
“Really? Is it, Gary? What’s so good about it?” I asked as his nosy searching eyes were really getting on my nerves. Why couldn’t he just put my letters through the mail slot?
“Oh, I caught you having a bad day, did I? This letter is for you. The lady said it was urgent.” He returned my glare.
I took the plump envelope from his hand and slammed the door in his face. Let’s see what other stupid thing he has to say the next time he comes over.
I took the letter into the sitting room and poured myself a glass of sherry. ‘Now then,’ I said to myself as I examined the envelope, wondering who could have sent it. It didn’t have any senders address; who could it be from I kept thinking as I unfolded the large piece of paper inside. It was a map and a note fell out of the envelope. It read:
Dear son,
I know you probably don’t remember me but I have missed you so much. I am your real mother. Your ‘mother,’ Ann was my sister as is your Aunt Morgan. They took you and your brother from me, they could never have loved you as much as I did and you were my boys.
They were horrible, they bruised you and your brother and told the police I tried to hurt you. I was placed in a mental institution, which might have been a free place to stay but I wasn’t crazy. I love the two of you with all my heart.
Your brother found me recently while he was on holiday. We are getting on so well and now I would love it if you would come and stay with us for a while, so you can judge me for yourself. I never understood why they took you away. I think the vodka finally got to Ann. Please find it in your heart as my son to forgive me and to stay with us so we can be a family. I have craved this for so many years now.
My address is 84 Queen’s Chapel Road in Fenstow. We are waiting for you my love. Please send me a letter saying you will come and I will get a room ready for you.
I hope to see you soon,
Love, your true Mum
xxxxxxxxxx
A route was drawn on the map from my house to her one, clearly marked in what seemed like crimson ink. I folded the map and note neatly, put it in my trouser pocket and sat back in my chair. He had found her. Demetrius had found her! This was surreal and very strange; was she innocent after all? Was Aunt Morgan’s detailed story all a pack of lies? Why else would they have taken us away from our real mother then, why?
No, I will not let my paranoia get the best of me. She was probably made to look crazy like me. I never killed my wife and daughter and maybe the whole family are mad. My real mother, my brother and I are possibly the only sane ones after all. I always felt like something didn’t quite click in the family dynamics and now I was determined to find out what it was. I would be going no matter what. My need for answers had become an overwhelming necessity, one that I felt had pulled me in all directions and had torn my mind into abstract, fragmented pieces.
I knew I couldn’t stop, I had to know everything now, all of it. I sat forward in my chair wondering how far into the darkness of my past I would go to get it and at the same time I knew I wouldn’t stop until I had all of them.
I felt addicted to finding out what was real and how anyone who dared to call themselves a mother could ever force a child to endure such a deluded past that was fakery encrusted in words like ‘love,’ and ‘family.’
I quickly wrote back to my mother with a letter saying that in a few days’ time when I had everything in order, I would go to see her. I can’t wait to see Demetrius again and to give him a slap for keeping me in the dark for all this time. It was all so exhilarating, I could sense I was getting closer to the truth that had haunted my existence all my life. Finally I had a decent lead to go on.
Chapter 20
The House
It took me a couple of days to get all my affairs in order. Seeing my lawyers’ ugly faces reminded me why I let them handle all my business transactions, as the thought of any type of social interaction made me feel repulsed. I was in and out of their office within forty-five minutes flat.
I got home feeling lighter from the responsibilities that had been weighing me down before. I noticed yet another letter on the floor as I walked inside. I seemed to be in high demand recently. The envelope was brown and didn’t appear to contain anything of interest, until I picked it up. It was from Williams and Sons, a local law firm. I’d never used them before because they were old-fashioned and not very flexible.
I opened the letter and started reading it when I began to feel the heat at my core start to rise. It was a letter from Dr Fanstick’s lawyer, asking me to visit him in prison. He was going to lodge an appeal, claiming he was innocent and wrongfully convicted. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this man! It was an unusual request and it reeked of sheer desperation. Dr Fanstick was the most arrogant, ignorant, incompetent ape I’d ever had the misfortune of being forced to associate with. Now he needed me, oh how the tables had turned! I put the letter down on the telephone table and chose to ignore its offensive existence.
Psycho-Analysis: The Beginning Page 17
