Psycho

Ever since I was young, I had this feeling I was doomed to meet the worst sort of trouble you could ever imagine—and I was right. I don’t know if God thought it would be funny or fate thought it would be ironic to turn not just my life into a living hell.

Even looking back on everything that happened, I can’t bring myself to believe all the horror I went through was meaningless. Maybe… I just need time to process it all.

The peaceful days since my return have me thinking that it’s all wrong somehow. Being happy. Being alive. To feel whole when I know that I left something precious behind.

There’s no use in me dragging this out any longer and I don’t care much to start at the very beginning. It’s boring and frankly embarrassing. So I’ll start in the middle where things went wrong and went weird.

››››››››››››››››››››››››››› / △ \ ‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹

“Angelica, do you want to talk about what happened at school? We don’t have to jump into it yet but it sounded really serious on the phone and—” He flipped through my file binder, “—from this report from the counsellor.” He flipped another page, “and the police report…”

My therapist, Dr. Stein, was sitting across from me in the spacious room. I bit my lip, I didn’t want to remember the worst day of my life, partly because it makes me look like a crazy bitch, and the other part is I literally have no memory of what happened.

“I’ll try...”

”All I’m asking is you tell me everything that happened from your perspective.”

I closed my eyes. It was a Monday school day—I was tired from staying out late with Ben. My classmates were bothering me cause they wanted the answers from math homework due next period.

That was all routine, yet something happened that day that made me lose control.

“I remember I was walking in the hallway with friends and then Stacey started showing me something from her phone, and then…“

“Yes?” Dr. Stein leaned forward.

“And then, the next thing I remember is my hand feeling like it was on fire. When I looked down, I thought it was on fire until I realized it was red…with blood. Then I saw Stacey, she was on the floor bleeding and coughing. Her nose was caved in.” I was starting to feel sick just thinking about it.

“It’s okay Angelica, this is a safe space. Take as much time as you need.”

I took a deep breath. “Stacey was choking on blood while everyone was screaming and pointing at me. My friends, my best friends were looking at me with fear and hatred—at me! The hallway was filled with faces and they all wouldn’t stop LOOKING at me…”

I could feel my cheeks were already wet. Dr. Stein passed me a Kleenex box.

“So according to you, the last thing you remembered before blacking out was—looking at something on her phone?”

Dr. Stein set the binder down on the coffee table between us in slow deliberate movements: the way you move when trying not to startle a stray cat or a wild animal.

”Angelica, I want you to know this isn’t your fault. Not the blackout, not what happened to Stacey, none of it. What you experienced was your system protecting you in the only way it knows how.”

He paused, letting the words settle. I braced, I knew what he was about to say.

“... Your alter took over because it felt like you were under threat.”

I felt a stone well up in my throat, your alter, the thing inside me which I had been living with my whole life. The medical professionals call it a personality disorder. My curse is whenever I get extraordinarily triggered I switch with someone else that looks like me but acts like Mr. Hyde— or the Hulk.

My tantrums as a child must have been legendary because I was kicked out of every kindergarten and elementary school in the county. However, this was the first time I had gone berserk with no cause or trigger.

“Do you have any sense, or a feeling of why she came out this time? Was it something in the video, possibly something your friends said?

“It’s not a ‘she,’ or my ‘other self’!” I bristled. “It has nothing to do with who I am! Why would any part of me attack my best friend? How do I rule out that I haven't been carrying around some sort of ghost or demon?”

”I’m sorry I made you feel that way Angelica, but we both know that deep down this other part is a side of yourself that you just haven’t come to terms with. I know you come from a religious family, is that what they’re telling you, is that what you believe?”

”I… I think,” I stumbled for my words, I didn’t want to accept what he was telling me. I wasn’t ready to accept that he was right and there was a part of me that craved violence against my closest friends.

“I don’t know.”

He leaned forward, “I know what you’re thinking, that if your protective side did this it would make you a monster. That’s not true, you are not a monster.”

All I could think of was an old joke my Pa used to say. It was funny in an ironic way only a joke could express: what came first, the chicken or the egg? I had formed my life and personality around avoiding pain and conflicts in order to keep my alter from coming out and ruining everything. I guess that makes me the chicken.

“Angelica I’d like to try something, if you’re up for it. I’d like to invite her to come out and talk with me. Just for a few minutes. I think if we let her come out we can understand why she felt like you were under attack.”

Here we go again… I was told this hadn’t worked out so well the last time we tried forcing a conversation with my alter. Plus, I didn’t want this thing having control over my body for even a tenth of a fraction of a second. But there was a part of me that needed to know where this all led to. I needed to solve this.

“Sure, it’s fine,” I told Dr. Stein.

This was a mistake. I knew that perfectly well. I was letting my curiosity get the better of me and I remembered the proverb of what happened to the curious cat…

Ten minutes later I was lying down on the therapist couch, the room was dimmed, and Dr. Stein had me doing deep breathing exercises while talking in a hypnotic voice, “Before we begin, let's make sure the whole system: all the parts of you feels completely safe. You are in control, Angelica.”

Screw it, we’ll do it live.

“Now I’d like you to picture a safe inner meeting place. It’s a quiet room with big windows looking into a lovely garden. The door is very sturdy with a strong lock and only you get to decide who comes in. See the room, notice the soft warm light coming in, the color of the walls, the comfortable chair waiting for you.”

I was already there, the walls were a sandy beige color and it smelled like fresh pine. I could feel the floor beneath my toes as I walked over to a chair and table in the center of the room. I could even hear trickling water outside, birds sang from outside like it was all part of some romantic movie.

“I’m going to count down slowly from ten to one, and after every number you’ll feel yourself settling deeper into that safe place, open to communicating between the other parts.”

I was sinking deeper into that chair. There was no difference between the room and ‘the room.’ It all blended together—

I curled up in the chair which had grown several meters—or I had become very small.

“Ten… Nine… Eight…” Dr. Stein counted down slowly to one. Angelica didn’t budge. She remained so still it looked like she stopped breathing.

“Now then…”

When the doctor blinked, Angelica was no longer on the sofa 10-feet away. She was inches away from his face—smirking.

“It’s been a long time, Harold,” she teased and pressed her forehead against his, “You’ve done well for me over the years but I regret to inform you that your services will no longer be required…”

The trembling doctor tried to move away but the girl grabbed the back of his head and held him in place. He felt her oppressive breath invade his nostrils, felt her eyes penetrating deep into him like a predator the moment before it chase—

“Her time is up.”

››››››››››››››››››››››››››› / △ \ ‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹‹

When I woke up on the couch I felt better and more rested than I’d felt in years—like a bear waking up from hibernation. There was only one problem: a strange melancholic feeling, as if I had forgotten something important that I shouldn’t have…

I looked over and smiled at Dr. Stein, but he turned away. I could tell something was wrong because my therapist wouldn’t even look at me (he also had a dark stain on his pants).

He told me to wait outside while he talked to my mom alone. Nope.

I needed to know what was happening to me, what it all meant.

But how was I going to hear their conversation?

Then I saw it near the desk—the fancy water jug with a cucumber floating at the top. I walked as fast as I could without drawing the receptionist’s attention and grabbed one of the glass tumblers.

The science was simple: sound vibrations travel much better through solids and pressing the glass flat against the door would create an acoustic coupling picking up the door’s vibrations. The glass body funnels and amplifies the vibrations just like a stethoscope. I couldn’t believe all those hours reading mystery thrillers was going to finally pay off…

An idea popped in my head as I was making my way back to Dr. Stein’s door; maybe I could improve this classic technique? This was the modern world after all, and I had a state-of-the-art Motorola RAZR with a recording feature. Perfect!

I just need to get my wired earphones from my purse and—they’re not here…

What.

But…

It’s fine.

I pressed the glass flat against the door and squashed my ear into the back of the cup. Good enough. Poirot would approve.

For a second I thought it wasn’t working and I had been sold a pack of lies, but then, I heard speaking—

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

”This case is different from anything I’ve experienced. Even the characteristics of her alter are… unique. I regret to tell you, Mrs. Carter, but I won’t be able to see Angelica as a client anymore.”

Oh my God, it must have been really bad… Tell her what happened!

”I’m sorry I’m not at liberty to discuss due to doctor-patient confidentiality. Angelica needs—special care, that is not something I’m… equipped to deal with.”

There was another moment of silence in the room that felt worse than any earth-shattering revelation.

“However there is one possible avenue for Angelica. I was recently contacted by a special therapeutic boarding school. I was informed they are currently handing out scholarships for special cases. I believe she would qualify.”

“You mean a school she would stay at? By herself?”

”That’s correct. With your permission, I would like to submit Angelica for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You don’t have to make a decision now, it’s completely up to you—I mean—her.”

“I see, thank you doctor, thank you so much for your help.”

“Of course. Oh and one more important thing.”

“Yes?”

“Try not to refer to Angelica by her nickname anymore.”

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t call her ‘Angie’ ever again.”