Thief of Mind

by Ben Thomas

  23/10/2002

  Keep forgetting to update this. It’s actually a bit of a ball ache to do but had a class with Craino today and he reminded us about revisiting our goals. So how am I doing?

  England U20’s…the trials aren’t till January but I’m playing pretty well.

  A-Levels…So far so good. All the course work is doing my head in but only got a few more months to put up with it.

  Earning some cash…Mum got me an interview for a waiters job at Giovannis but I didn’t turn up. Thought I’d stood on a piece of a broken wing mirror on the pavement outside of it so I couldn’t go in.

  Getting laid…nothing on that front…YET. Helen asked me to come round to hers on Friday night. Apparently she wants us to be study partners.

  Not being weird…Okay some of the things I do are a bit weird but what does it matter. No one notices and if things are going well why change?

  25/10/2002

  So not much studying got done at Helen’s tonight, though there was a bit of Biology going on. We didn’t do it but I reckon she wants to. Won’t be long now.

  21/11/2002

  I’m pretty sure I did something stupid today. I got mum to write a letter to McMahon to say I was injured and couldn’t play in our match today. I wasn’t injured. I could have played, well actually I couldn’t thanks to the fucking Lion King. Jess was watching it in the lounge last night (again) and when I came home and walked into the lounge the first character I saw and heard speak was the evil one. I’m not even sure what his name is (is it Scar??) anyway he’s a lion (obviously) and he is an evil loser and because he was the first character I saw when I walked in I was infected with his evil and his loserness. So I knew something bad would happen if I played in todays match. It would have been different if I’d seen Simba first because he’s good and he’s a winner. Everything would have been alright if he was the first character I saw but I fucking well didn’t. I wanted to play I just knew I couldn’t. We lost by the way and I’ve let everyone down. I’m sure none of the lads think I faked it. Bloody ridiculous. How can the Lion King stop me from playing a rugby match? Well the team lost and its my fault for seeing Scar or whoever. I caused the lads to lose with or without me. We could have won it. I’m such a fucking dick.

  01/12/2002

  I’m back home from the tour. I need to write about this. I saw something horrible last night and I can’t stop thinking about it. I saw a man beaten up last night. It was late, about one am. Ryan and Pete knocked on our door and told us to look out the window. There was a crowd of people outside a kebab shop that was opposite our hotel. They were surrounding this man who was just lying there, not moving, I’m sure I could see a pool of blood on the floor. Ryan and Pete said they saw what happened. Two men dragged this guy out of the kebab shop and threw him on the ground. They said the guy got up but one of the men punched him twice and he fell back down again and then both men started kicking him and then one of them started jumping on his head. Then they just walked off. The man wasn’t moving. Ryan said he actually heard bones crunching. An ambulance finally turned up and took him away. I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I couldn’t do my checks last night. I was sharing a room with Kev so how could I. I knew something bad would happen. What if it was my fault? I think the man might be dead. Did I cause it? What if I caused it? I can’t get it out of my fucking head.

  05/12/2002

  My stomach is killing me. I’m in agony. It’s been like this after every match this term. My stomach just goes really sore. We won, just, and we are actually in the National Schools Shield final for the first time in the schools history. I set up Daz for the winning try and then scored the conversion. I’m starting to dread matches. McMahon keeps putting pressure on me. Its not just him, its all the other teachers. Every class one of them mentions it, every time they pass me in the corridor. Can’t even eat a packet of crisps without one of them saying ‘oh that’s not a healthy choice for our star player.’ Why do they have to go on about me. Daz and Kev are just as good. Only one match left though. Just get the ball to Toby and we’ll win. Well what if I can’t do it. What if I let them all down. They’ll all blame me. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I HATE IT.

  09/12/2002

  Helen is being right moody with me. I haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe she doesn’t fancy me anymore. Everyone fancies her. She is genuinely beautiful, everyone knows it. I’m ugly compared to her. Doesn’t help that I keep getting more zits. She won’t want to go out with a zitty freak. She also won’t want to go out with a frigid freak. She keeps wanting to move things on but I can’t, it just doesn’t feel right anytime. Not that I don’t want to, just the conditions aren’t right. It’s stupid but I hear or read something negative and it makes me think the time is wrong, the conditions aren’t right. Maybe that’s why she’s moody with me. Still can’t stop thinking about that kebab shop guy.

  13/12/2002

  Yeah the teachers might love Super T when there’s a rugby match on but it doesn’t stop them handing out unjust punishments and grassing me up to mum. Persistent lateness for classes is hardly the crime of the century. Apparently its disrespectful to the teachers and my class mates and its damaging my A level prospects. Birtwell told mum my performance is slipping. Oh she’s interested in me when I’m in trouble at school. Why does it even matter? It’s my choice to do A levels. I can leave if I wanted. It’s not like I’m always late. Yeah OK today I admit, it was ridiculous. It was geography which is after PE so Smithy doesn’t mind us being a bit late and he usually loves me anyway so usually lets me get away with anything. I needed a jimmy riddle. As always had to go in the cubicle even though the pissers were free. When I went in the cubicle it was disgusting. There was shit everywhere. Round the toilet seat, even on the floor and the walls. It was a right proper dirty protest. There was no way I could leave it like that. People would assume I’d done it and they’d tell everyone about it. I had to clean it before I left. It was minging, thought I was going to gag. And it took ages. Turned up to Geography with only ten minutes of the lesson left. Smithy went ballistic at me saying I disrespect him and think I can get away with anything and Birtwell would hear about it. I didn’t care. Rather that than have people saying I go round shitting everywhere and then scrape the shit on the walls and floor.

  19/12/2002

  Everyone is still out celebrating. I just wanted to get home. We did it though didn’t we. We won the Final. We are heroes. I nearly didn’t play, it was too much. I wasn’t going to come to school. I couldn’t get out of the house. It just didn’t feel right. Kept feeling negativity all round me. Kept on thinking about us getting beat. I needed to keep thinking positive thoughts. Keep visualising the victory. But I couldn’t. Every time I went in and out a door I kept thinking about us losing so had to go out each door and back in again with the vision of victory in my mind. In the changing rooms I had to keep putting my shirt, shorts, socks and boots on and off, on and off, on and fucking off. It was getting too much. Thought like I was having a mad break down. I even screamed out in front of everyone and slammed my boots hard on the ground. Everyone stared at me but then Bobby started screaming as well and beating his chest and then everyone joined in. They thought I was psyching myself up so they all started doing it too. Bloody worked as well. By the time we got on the pitch the team was in a frenzy. They were animals. Once it kicked off I felt good. We played amazing. I played amazing. I got man of the match. When we got back to the changing rooms, I went to the toilets and just burst into tears. When the coach got back everyone went to the pub. I didn’t want to go. My stomach was aching and it didn’t feel right. The game had gone well so something was telling me something else would go wrong. Mum told me that Helen’s rung twice. Haven’t called her back. Can’t. It doesn’t feel right. Feels that something’s going to go wrong.

  02/01/2003

  New year, new start. I’ve dec
ided I’m going to stop doing all that weird stuff. Going to smash it this time. U20’s trials in a couple of weeks. Smash that. Then cruise through the exams. Let Helen have her wild way with me, then it’s the cricket season, probably get a bar job then Uni here we come. Sorted.

  18/01/2003

  What a complete fuck up I am. Missed the trials today. I’ve blown it. I couldn’t go. Everything felt wrong from the moment I got up to the moment Dad pulled up in the car park everything felt wrong. I’m a bell end. I don’t even know what was wrong, nothing was wrong but I knew it was wrong. I kept thinking negative thoughts. Kept picturing myself fucking up. Kept seeing images of shit rugby players in my head and because of that I was infected by their shitness. I am an idiot. I couldn’t do it. I just knew something would go wrong. The whole experience was tainted. It felt infected with evil. I knew if I played something bad would happen. I just knew I mustn’t do it. Told dad my stomach was too sore. He didn’t believe me. Said it was just nerves. Said didn’t my stomach usually get sore after matches not before. I ignored him. He spoke to the coaches, they weren’t pleased. McMahon was there. He came to the car. Told me not to miss this chance. Told me not to blow it. I cried. I cried in front of my dad and my PE teacher. I saw them shaking their heads. More negativity. Dad took me home. I’ve blown it.

  23/01/2003

  Well that went well…NOT. So the lesson is if you think you’re worried about anything, if you’re concerned your losing it, if things are getting to you, whatever you do don’t be so stupid as to think it’s a good idea to talk about it to ANYONE. Not your mum, she’s just bothered about Jess. Not your Dad, he’s not interested in anything and not your so called best mate, he will just take the piss out of you. Everyone keeps asking why I missed the trials. What could I say? Say I was injured or say it just didn’t feel right so I didn’t go? Well I decided to tell Kev the real reason why I didn’t play…sort of. We were walking back to his and he was asking me about the trials. I said he would laugh if I told him why I didn’t play. He said he wouldn’t. He did. I told him I get worried and nervous about things, I told him how I feel that bad things might happen and how I have to do all my checks and how I have to have positive thoughts in my head. I told him I kept getting negative thoughts in my head before the trials and I couldn’t get rid of them so I couldn’t play. What was his response? He pissed himself and said and I quote… “Mate how long have you been so weird. You need locking up in an asylum. Don’t be such a loser.” I joined in his laughter and told him I’d only been joking. I don’t know whether he believed me but for the rest of the way back to his he kept making jokes about padded cells and straight jackets and men in white coats. When we got to his I made up an excuse not to go in to his house and went home. Was meant to see Helen tonight but after my humiliation by Kev I didn’t fancy it. My checks have taken longer than usual tonight. Maybe I do need a padded cell.

  18/02/2003

  I’m worried it’s going to happen again. It’s Kev’s mum. I haven’t been hanging around as much with Kev since he diagnosed me as being a mentalist. Been hanging around with Bobby more and seeing Helen. I was walking back with Kev after school today and he wasn’t really talking. I thought it was me who was meant to be pissed off with him but he didn’t seem to want to talk to me. Maybe he’d noticed that I’ve been a bit cool with him. So I confronted him and asked if I had done something to offend him. He told me to stop being so ‘self-obsessed’ apparently it’s not ‘all about Toby.’ And that’s when he told me his mum is ill. And as soon as he said it I pictured Lorraine dying. Even when he was telling me they didn’t think it was serious something was telling me it was. This voice kept telling me she was going to die. I kept imagining her dying and I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. Every time I tried to think of something else I kept picturing her dying. It must be serious if she is having tests like Kev said. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like death follows me. It’s like I cause it. Granny, Jess when she was born, the kebab shop guy. I don’t want it to happen. Please don’t let Lorraine die.

  19/02/2003

  I have definitely been doing my checks more diligently. I’m trying my best. I have to keep Lorraine safe. It’s hard. I wanted to ask Kev if she’d had her test results back but when I went over I started thinking about her dying again. I know it’s ridiculous but Kev looked at me when I was thinking it and I’m convinced he knows I am imagining his mum dying. I know he can’t actually read my mind but a voice keeps asking me what if he can. What if he thinks I am evil. I don’t want his mum to die. Lorraine is ace. I don’t want her to die.

  23/02/2003

  I am bad, I have caused it, it’s happening. Lorraine has cancer and yes, it is serious. I couldn’t ask Kev, I mustn’t speak to him, I can’t let any more evil spread to him or his mum. I mentioned to Helen that Kev’s mum was ill and asked her to find out what the test results were. She asked me why I couldn’t ask myself. I didn’t know what to say, I just got angry and walked off. She came to me later though, she’d spoken to Kev and he’d told her the news. Helen was more bothered about why I stormed off before than Lorraine being ill. Then I started imagining Helen being ill. She was going to catch death from me too. I kept trying to cancel out the death with positive thoughts. If I think the word bless then it neutralises the death. Helen and I argued after that. She said I was being moody and ‘aloof’. She doesn’t know that I’m trying to keep her safe.

  27/02/2003

  I didn’t go to school today. My checks were taking too long. It just didn’t feel right.

  05/03/2003

  Had a massive row with mum and dad. Birtwell phoned up to tell them I hadn’t been going to school. They just kept shouting at me. They wouldn’t understand. I hate this. I fucking well HATE this. I just want to keep them safe. I have to keep Lorraine safe, I have to keep Kev safe, Helen, Mum, Dad, Jess. Why has the evil chosen me? Why do I cause it? I can’t stop thinking about Lorraine going to hell and being tortured by the devil. I know my thinking it can’t cause it but what if it can. I can’t risk it. Please don’t let me be responsible for that. Lorraine is such a good person. I’m the evil one. I need to know she is going to be okay.

  15/03/2003

  Kev wasn’t at school today. Somethings happened I know it has.

  16/03/2003

  He still not at school. I wanted to ask Helen if she knew what was happening but I can’t speak to her.

  17/03/2003

  She’s in hospital. I can’t stop it. I can’t get it out of my head. I want to rip open my head and rip it out. Please let her be okay.

  05/04/2003

  Lorraine’s dead.

  It finished there…the journal entries and my chance at living a normal life. I remember that after what happened to Lorraine, I pretty much gave up. Fear and guilt meant I couldn’t speak to Kev. The same for Helen, Bobby, well pretty much everyone. I couldn’t risk causing any more harm. I didn’t have long to wait till we broke up for study leave and this made it easy to isolate myself. I couldn’t concentrate on my exams, I was too busy getting to know him more formally. I gave up on my friends and I gave up on myself.

  I sat slumped on my bed just staring at the page for, what? Two minutes? Ten? Half an hour? Time had stopped. My fist pressed hard against my lips. Nausea was bubbling in my stomach. What had I become? Why did I allow this to happen to me? How had my mind been so broken that I believed I was responsible for any of this?

  You thought it, you caused it.

  No that wasn’t true. It was all bullshit. I had no power to cause or prevent disaster happening just by thinking it. I’d had my mind stolen and this thief had also stolen so much of my hopes and ambitions. It wasn’t my fault. I was just a child. I should have been protected. This should not have been allowed to happen to me. It wasn’t my fault.

  My pulse quickened, adrenaline replaced the nausea in my stomach. I snatched the journ
al and notebook off my bed and gathered up the letters. I nearly ripped my bedroom door off its hinges. There was no subtle creak of the stairs to warn my parents of my approach. My arrival was like a crash of thunder as I stormed into the living room. Mum and Dad were sat in their customary chairs as, simultaneously, their respective jaws dropped open at the sight of this mad man before them. Before either had a chance to speak, I erupted.

  “How could you let this happen? You could have stopped it! You should have stopped it! You’re my parents! You were meant to protect me!” I screamed.

  “Hey, hey, hey, Toby. Let’s just calm ourselves down,” Dad had put the paper down and removed his reading glasses.

  “Don’t tell me what to do. Both of you are responsible for me being this pathetic loser. I could have been something. I could have made something of my life. I don’t even recognise the person I was. I could have had what Kev’s got. I could have been happy but you two let me down. How did you not notice? I was falling apart and you did nothing. You never knew or cared what was going on with me. Well, now you can find out because it’s all written down in here.” I waved the journal, note pad and letters at them, then threw them hard at the wall just above where Dad was sat. “Read it. Read it all. Read how you allowed your son to turn into a complete fruit cake. Read how this boy self-destructed while his mum obsessed about her new precious daughter and his dad was off with his tart.”

  “What are you talking about, Toby? Please, please calm down. Let’s talk about this,” Mum started to get up out of her chair.

  “Don’t come near me. It’s a bit late to show concern now, isn’t it? Did you forget you had a son as well as a daughter? As soon as you got pregnant you didn’t care what was happening to me, and after she was born I was an irrelevance to you, wasn’t I? No wonder I couldn’t talk to you. You didn’t even know I existed.”