Glyph. (Part 5)

Isaac swallowed the lump that was building in his throat. He was concerned that he was visibly shaking, although it was hard to tell as his heart was beating so violently that he could feel it in his head, and in his toes.

He was standing in the library where they had first met. The very same spot. Isaac felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, but he didn’t want to move, any form of movement would only make his stomach churn more violently. The small droplet moved from his forehead and tickled down the side of nose and across his lips which were sealed tightly. It was 3:30… He should be here by now, why isn’t he here? What if he found out somehow? He could have done that, he could have found out, who knows what information he has access to?

He focused on his breathing, in, and out, in, and out. Why is it such a struggle, just to breathe? The ticking of the clock was louder than before, and the library was practically abandoned, it was silent, and desolate, and Isaac has never felt more vulnerable. Then he heard a door open.

Scorch stepped into view, smiling coldly, his eye patch strapped firmly across his good, unmarked eye.

“Isaac, how nice it was to hear from you, I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps too obviously, but Scorch’s demeanour didn’t alter so Isaac felt reassured that, at least for the moment, he did not suspect anything.

“I knew hearing a few home truths would change your mind.” He smiled once more, almost viciously.

“It’s no surprise that the government is corrupt, I just never knew the extent of it, it’s not something I feel can be tolerated anymore.” Scorch sat down at a nearby table, and he motioned for Isaac to join him. He rested his elbows on the wood and clasped his hands tightly together.

“Isaac, there are lots of things that you don’t know, but I plan to bring you up to speed on all of them, then you will see the true nature of these disgusting liars that govern this country. Unfortunately that means you won’t be able to enjoy the regular announcements I’m giving, I’m not a fan of spoilers, but I feel I can make an exception in this case. Are you ready?”

Isaac glanced out of the window briefly, hoping he would see the soldiers closing in on the building, but he knew it was too soon, they wanted him to extract as much information as he could before they captured him.

 

“I am.”

“Good… where to begin? It may interest you to know that there are a great number of secret organisations that are hidden from the public eye, you will have heard of MI5, MI6 and so on yes? All of them are simply decoys, red herrings, to mask the true organisations running behind them. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of an organisation by the name of G.L.Y.P.H.?”

Isaac shook his head, although he suspected he had been in their headquarters, spoken to their members, and gone along with their plan.

“It’s an acronym of course, any idea what it might stand for?”

Again, Isaac shook his head.

“General Liquidation of Youth with Propensity to Harm, or in other words… people such as us. They don’t like the power we possess, Isaac, and they will do anything to rid us of it.”

Isaac was growing increasingly uncomfortable, he knew that G.L.Y.P.H. had wanted him dead, but to have it confirmed, and in such a cold, calculating way, it made things infinitely worse. How did I get myself into this mess?

“The women in charge… She goes by the letter ‘P’-“

Where is he getting all this from? If he knows all of this, does he know why I’m here? Is he just toying with me?

“-She is a terrible human being Isaac, she has committed mass murder in the name of her family, in the name of her organisation, and she must be stopped.”

“What exactly has this organisation done that is so bad?”

Scorched barely blinked before answering:

“I’ve seen all of their records, they’ve experimented on humans Isaac, many of these tests could easily be considered torture, and most of them resulted in death, those who survived have been imprisoned, treated like animals, after all… they are merely failed experiments. Aside from that? They’ve purged hundreds of people in this city alone, merely for owning one of these!”

He pointed towards his uncovered eye, the one marked with a prominent glyph.

“And that is only one organisation; there are dozens out there, taking citizen’s money and using it to commit atrocities, all in the name of advancement.”

“Advancement?”

“Of the human race, everyone out there is afraid Isaac, afraid of the unknown, and all of these people are looking for a way to get the upper hand, to be ready for whatever comes, whatever the cost.”

“And what would you differently?”

Scorch blinked. His marked eye studying Isaac closely- suspiciously.

“You are scared, aren’t you Isaac? What are you afraid of… is it me?”

“You’re still wearing your eye patch… you don’t trust me.” Isaac did his best to control his breathing as his mouth became void of saliva.

“I wouldn’t take that personally, I don’t trust anyone.”

“It’s hard for me to believe what you are saying when there is no trust between us.”

Isaac lied, in truth, everything he had told him he had swallowed, he couldn’t help it, there was something about the way he spoke- he was so blunt and utterly convincing- it was difficult not to process every word he was saying. He glanced once more at the clock, and then at the window. Scorch smiled once again.

“You’ve seen into my mind Isaac, why don’t you tell me what I would do differently?”

“I was only present for a few seconds, I did not see everything; I didn’t have time.”

Scorch’s smile only grew wider.

“You saw enough though, didn’t you? You saw enough that you felt the need to run and tell on me, to run to ‘P’?”

His heart stopped, his eyes glazed over. He knows! Of course he knows!

Isaac didn’t know what to say, what to do- what could he do? There was nothing, Scorch was immune to his power; he was infinitely more clever than him, and as bloodthirsty as it was humanly possible to be. He was outmatched in every way, there was nothing he could do but allow Scorch to unfold his plan. No! They’ll be here! They’ll take him into custody! They will have heard what he said, and they will be coming! They have to! Not that repeating the thought convinced him any differently.

“Just so you are aware, even if I didn’t know where your loyalties lay beforehand, I would have been able to tell within a few seconds of conversation with you, never try to deceive me Isaac, you will fail, you may be able to see into people’s minds, but I can deduce how someone is feeling, and what they are thinking, merely by observing the tiniest contours of their face.”

“Fine, so now you’ve found me out… tell me why.”

“Why? Why am I doing all this?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever looked back at the history of the world? Have you ever just taken a look at the state of the world? Throughout the entire history of the human race, there has been an endless amount of oppression, genocide, destruction of entire peoples and places… I aim to solve that. I will follow the guidelines set by previous dictators, only I won’t make their foolish mistakes. The most beneficial scenario for everyone is the destruction of the world as we know it, and a new one to rise, with me as the leader. I become the most powerful man on the planet, and we find peace in a reign of fear where everyone is so afraid, they dare not step a foot out of line. The world I will create will be one of perpetual peace, there will be no discrimination, no prejudice, no war, no hate crimes, why? Because everyone will be the same- they’ll be beneath me.”

“And you think people will stand for that?”

“It is human nature to seek out conflict, out there, they are already preparing themselves to rip each other to pieces, and all it took was a few words from me to provoke them, what does that say about society? What does that say about humanity? Subjugation is by far, the easiest option; I am doing you all a favour, and helping myself in the process.”

“You are wrong, you are basing your argument purely on figures, if you went out there and saw the world, saw the good that can be found in humanity you would not be so certain! You would build your throne on the corpses of the innocent; I can see you won’t change your mind… I can only promise to stop you.”

Scorch smiled, “I look forward to seeing you try.”

Isaac looked out the window for the final time.

“You won’t have to wait for very long.”

Scorch stood up and strolled carelessly to the window.

“Ah, Three squadrons, approaching from the east, west and south, one air team inbound, soon to land on the roof of the building, most carrying assault rifles, ACR, SCAR-H, typical AK47 with some modifications, also heavy weaponry, several grenade launchers, M32, seems a little excessive if I’m honest. Oh, and air team landing in 3, 2, 1…”

There was a loud crash on the roof, then silence.

“Hmmm… they may have had an accident with their parachutes,” he turned to Isaac, “they can be so careless when they pack those things.”

Almost simultaneously, there were several loud explosions outside, balls of fire erupted into the air, scorching the trees and surrounding buildings. Isaac could hear the sound of screaming, but he didn’t dare to look outside. Instead Isaac addressed Scorch; he was powerless to do anything else.

“I don’t understand… how?”

“Landmines, I prepare for any potential scenario,” he smiled malevolently, “and now, I believe, if I remember correctly, I warned you against trying to stop me. I don’t want to kill you Isaac, you are potentially a great asset, but if you choose to resist me I have no other choice.”

Before Isaac could register the threat, the sound of a gun clicking sounded at the back of Scorch’s head. A group of masked men with guns had formed behind him, led by P.

“Mr. Scorch, I believe?” Stated P as coolly as ever, “we’d like you to come with us.”

“Just Scorch is fine…”

“Very well,” she snapped the handcuffs onto his wrists, “Scorch.”

She turned to Isaac, and observed him with the same calculating, unfeeling stare she always wore.

“Good work, you did well under pressure.” Despite the praising comment, there was no tone of gratitude to be found anywhere in her voice.

“What about all those men out there? What about all the people he just killed?”

“They knew what they were signing up for- now- we need to get back; we have some questions for this one.”

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights, P?” Scorched asked, jokingly.

“You have no rights you son of a bitch.” With that they began to drag him away. Before they got to the door however, they ripped his eye patch away from his face, and Isaac couldn’t resist the temptation. He entered Scorch’s mind, with one question burning inside him, why didn’t you resist? To his surprise, Scorch answered:

“One thing you will learn, Isaac, is that everything that happens, even if it seems to be going against me in the worst possible way, will be exactly what I want to happen, there is nothing you can do, no trick, no deception, no angle you can take that I will not have considered a thousand times beforehand and planned ahead, I will always be ahead of you, every step of the way, if I want to be caught, I will be caught, if I want to go free, I will go free, and if I want to kill you, or anyone else, it will happen, it’s only a matter of time, and how I decide to approach it.”

Isaac could not bear being in his mind for one second longer, the anger, the fire, the hate… all of it, was too much. When he returned to his own mind Scorch was no longer in sight, but he shouted one last thing before they pulled him out of the building.

“Remember, Isaac, once they are done with me, you are next in the firing line!”

He knew that this was far from over, and he knew there would be blood before the end. 

The Haunting in the Castle (TDC Part 5)

“Where are we going?”

I asked this question more than once, however it was only on the fifth attempt that I got an answer out of Jane.

“Jesus, Tim, why are you so eager to know?”

“Honestly?  I’m more afraid of the unknown where people are concerned… at least I know all that supernatural stuff is in my mind.”

“So… you’re still convinced ghosts don’t exist? You don’t change, Timothy,” she had a smug, satisfied look smeared perpetually upon her face as she drove, “oh, did you hear about Galloway Hall?”

“No, what happened?”

“Well you know they were demolishing the place to build- well I’m not sure what they were building actually, a library or something? Anyway, as they were tearing it down, they found something-“ she paused for dramatic effect. I figured I would give her what she was expecting.

“Something?”

“A room- or a basement- something, hidden away. Apparently some cult had been using this room to sacrifice children, they’ve found dozens of skeletons, and apparently they are still finding more.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I know, right?” I could sense part of her was bragging, she may not have even been aware that she was doing so, but she recalled the events of the night we spent in Galloway Hall well enough, and this just proved that she was right all along, something horrific had happened there. “I did some research on this cult when I heard the news; they call themselves Prima Aetas Subortus. They believe sacrificing their offspring to some obscure ancient demon brings them youthfulness, meaning so long as they keep reproducing and killing their kids, they live forever.”

“Christ, see what the supernatural does to people? They believe in these ridiculous fantasies, and end up committing mass murder!”

“Yeah, strange though… the cult seems to have died down nowadays,” She chuckled to herself and turned onto a dirt road, “we’re almost there!”

Throughout my childhood, I had never been particularly afraid of the dark, no more so than anyone else at least. However, I think it goes without saying, that due to the experience I had in my apartment only a couple of nights previously, I was apprehensive about driving in the pitch black at the very least, and utterly terrified at the most. I remember it surrounding the car, swallowing the little box of metal in its immersive endlessness. When it came to the point where I could no longer breathe, I was sure I would pass out, and the darkness would once again attempt to devour me, but a series of dull lights in the distance loosened my oesophagus.

“You okay, Tim?”

“Fine.”

“You’re looking a little pale…”

“I’ve always been pale.”

“Alright, more pale than usual.”

I just shrugged. The destination was fast approaching, and as it did, I became more and more sceptical that there was anything there for me. The place towered far above the surrounding fields. Even in the dark it was clear where we were going. This was a castle: Motte and Bailey, and mostly intact, although there were clearly certain areas that were in disrepair.

“Are we seriously going to a castle?”

“I told you I had a new job didn’t I?” she quizzed, somewhat frustrated, “well I’ve been asked to investigate and document any supernatural occurrences in and around the area, and this castle has one of the most frequent sightings in the country.”

“We’re searching for a ghost in a castle? What is this, Scooby Doo?”

“Were you always this cynical, or did I just not notice it all this time?”

“You’re telling me that you don’t feel this is just a tad absurd?”

She didn’t feel the need to dignify my question with an answer as we pulled into the courtyard. There was only one other car present, a white BMW with a private registration plate. The castle itself was actually as far from foreboding as a castle can be, all of the lights were on, and the natural embellishment that had been added to the place, presumably for tourist’s eyes, had actually made the building rather beautiful.

The minute we pulled up a man emerged from the giant mahogany doors that led to the entrance of the main body of the castle. He was short, bald, and had such an obvious sense of self importance that he reeked of pretention. He addressed Jane solely, and acted as if I were not there.

“Jane, is it?”

“Yes, that’s me, how do you do sir?”

“I would be much better if I was at home in front of the fire with my dogs- which at this point will have to wait until tomorrow to go out now- but I digress, thank you for coming on such short notice, I was hoping we would be able to get this over with as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry- get this over with?”

He wrinkled his nose, as if there were some distinctly offensive odour pervading the air, where in actual fact, all I could smell was the slightly overpowering scent of the array of flowers and bushes surrounding the courtyard.

“I do not like anyone poking around my castle at the best of times.” He didn’t feel the need to expand on that point, instead he simply shoved the warm keys into Jane’s hand and headed to his car. “Also, please do not entertain the idea that you can steal anything, all security systems are in working order, and if you so much take a step out of the building with anything that doesn’t belong to you the police will be on you quicker than you can say ‘sorry’, alright? Try not to damage anything either…”

With that, his shiny bald head disappeared into the black, tinted windows of his car, and he sped off into the night.

“Well, he was delightful wasn’t he?” laughed Jane, “c’mon, let’s go!” She practically ran into the castle, and I reluctantly followed, although I admit, I was somewhat anxious to get out of the open air. As I shut the door behind us I couldn’t help but notice the large amount of crows perched on the ramparts, on the roof and various ledged dotted here and there. I wasn’t going to dwell on that though, and I didn’t.

The castle was quite impressive on the inside, at least I thought so, the preservation was extraordinary, the majority of it looked authentic; it was passable at the very least. However, it wasn’t long before an atmosphere set in, it was odd; something felt off. I do not know what it was, maybe everything was a little too perfect, I did consider that, but I couldn’t be sure, all I know is that Jane felt it too. Then again, Jane always had those kind of feelings, and they were always more extreme than mine. Then it occurred to me; I knew nothing of this place, I wouldn’t be able to deduce anything, my mind would not be able to concoct any wild imaginings because I knew nothing.

“Did you read up about this place, Jane?”

“Of course I did, I have to do my research don’t I?” she shot me a cursory glance, “why?”

“How do you know that anything that might happen tonight won’t simply be a product of your imagination based upon what you already know?”

She considered this for a moment, “I don’t, I know that little things won’t amount to anything, knocks on the windows and walls, objects moving by themselves, it doesn’t prove anything, and I’m aware enough to acknowledge that, but I don’t believe my mind is proactive enough to create a whole scenario that will fit to what I already know.

“We’ll see.”

It was at that moment the lights went out. My stomach convulsed, my throat constricted and my heart jumped. I was taken back to my apartment, and I had to force myself to breathe because at that moment I could have let myself asphyxiate just to escape. Fortunately Jane had packed several torches with an abundance of batteries.

“You were expecting this?”

“Apparently it’s been happening quite frequently over the past few weeks, power cuts that is.”

“I see.”

“Tim, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I know- I know that.”

Then came that sound. The sound of clawing. Fingernails on the floor of the room directly above us, and as time passed it only became more and more intense- desperate. Naturally we proceeded to check the room, but as was to be expected, no-one was there. It looked to be another infuriating search for phantom noises that would amount to nothing. The room itself showed no signs of anything out of the ordinary… however, it was a peculiar room. It’s original purpose was unclear, but it was obvious that the managers had designated it as a place to show the entire history of musical instruments. Considering the size of the room, it ultimately ended up looking cluttered, with various woodwind instruments hanging on the walls, some of them in frames, some of them merely on stands. In the centre of the room there was a large, suspiciously modern looking, grand piano.

Again, that feeling of misplacement, that sense that something wasn’t quite right came back. I didn’t like it there, maybe it was the way so much had been forced into one room, maybe I was simply feeling overwhelmed, claustrophobic, I don’t know, but I knew I wanted to get out of there.

“There’s something underneath these floorboards,” Jane suddenly stated, her voice monotone and cold, I looked over at her and saw her face had lost its entire colour, “can’t you feel it?”

It took me a moment, but sure enough, I could feel it, aside from a very faint buzzing, which I could feel more than I could hear, there was a light clunking sound. I fell to my knees and pressed my ear to the floor. The cold, wooden floorboards did not welcome my ear, they were rough, and so icy it burned. I could hear it though, sure enough, there were footsteps. The significance was not lost on me, although it only dawned on me at that moment what was happening.

This place was channelling all of my major past experiences with the supernatural, from the most recent to the depths  of my childhood- first the darkness, then the clawing on the floor, now the footsteps- what was it? I considered the fact that because I knew nothing of the history of the place, that my own history was beginning to come to light, but was that even possible-plausible even? It seemed ridiculous, and even now I struggle to believe that is the case, but what other explanation can there be? I am yet to find any link between myself and that castle, no history, no prior knowledge, nothing has come to light; and yet, my fears were being reflected within those ancient walls.

We followed the footsteps, what else could we do? At this point, my fear had become so intense that I could block it out, much like when a person is in so much pain that they become numb to the entire experience. All that was driving me now was my curiosity; I needed to know what was happening.

Following the footsteps led us to every inch of the castle, every time we came close to the source of the sound it seemed to shift to an entirely different location, at times it would appear that the footsteps were just above us, below us, or even directly where we were standing, the sound grossly loud, but then in the next second it would become faint once more and be marching along the hallway next to us. After what must have been hours, we reached a final location where the footsteps were so loud the whole room seemed to shake tremulously. At this point my eyes were beginning to blur over, I was exhausted, I was frustrated, I felt no more fear; that had dissipated about an hour into the chase. My feet had gone numb, and I could feel myself falling into what can only be described as a temporary, lack-of-sleep-fuelled state of insanity.

The room we found ourselves in was not part of the original castle, that being said, it was by far the most horrifying room there. It was a bathroom; the men’s bathroom to be precise. It was grimy, grey, grim and falling apart. It genuinely looked like something from a horror film. There was a large mirror that took up the majority of the one wall, and it was so filthy, it was near impossible to see a reflection of yourself without it being distorted in some way. The sound of footsteps vibrating was so violently that the doors of the bathroom stalls threatened to come off their hinges… and then it stopped. Just like that, there were no more footsteps; just silence. That was probably more unsettling than anything else we had experienced that night, but at that point, the only thing I felt was a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I slumped against the wall, defeated.

“This was a giant waste of time.” I muttered, as Jane struggled to hide her sense of disappointment, “it’ll be light soon, it has to be, we should get out of here.”

“Something is going on here, Tim; you know it, why can’t you admit it?”

“I can’t deny that something I going on here, if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have chased the sound of footsteps all over the damn place, but that doesn’t make this any less pointless, we aren’t going to find anything… because whatever is going on here, it’s purely messing with us, nothing more.”

Then there it was. Of course, I should have expected it, but I guess I was holding out hope that my theory was nothing but wild speculation.

On the mirror- the disgustingly dirty mirror- was a gentle tapping. Someone- or something- was on the other side. I could feel them staring at me through my monstrous reflection, I could see their mischievous grin snarling malevolently at me as they watched my internal torment. What I felt at that moment is indescribable, a mixture of fury, fear, anxiety and frustration soaring through my body with so much energy and ferocity I could scarcely control myself.

One of the toilet seats had broken off and lay solemnly on the floor next to the stall. Barely thinking a grabbed it and hurled it at the mirror. I watched with delight as the glass shattered, the cracks spreading, resembling a sharp, jagged cobweb. It did not break entirely however, and that was not something I was going to settle for, despite her attempts to restrain me, I managed to shake Jane off and smashed the seat into the mirror one final time.

The glass gave up the ghost and shattered entirely. As it fell, a black void appeared behind it, something neither of us expected.

We both fell to the floor, overcome with the shock of what had just happened. I had never acted to so impulsively before; I had never been so overcome with emotion that I had felt the need to do so. We just sat there for a while, neither of us moving, staring into the space behind the mirror. It was Jane who moved first.

She glanced into the space, and then turning to look at me briefly, she climbed inside. Naturally I followed.

The space behind the mirror was a room in darkness, but filled with lights of every colour, some of them flashing, some simply shining on, and never blinking. As my eyes adjusted it became clear what the place was.

“Tim, over here… look!” Jane’s voice cut me out of my reverie, “this panel here… it’s the reason we’ve been hearing things all night.”

“What?”

“There’s a system built into the castle walls, most likely for tourists on ghost walks and things like that, a kind of horror ‘ambience’, and someone has left it on.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Publicity, maybe? I don’t know,” she sighed, clearly the first day of her new job wasn’t going quite as expected with the discovery the whole thing was staged, “you were right, this whole thing was a waste of time, everything tonight was set up.”

I pondered for a minute, something still didn’t add up.

“Yeah… it was set up, but it was set up specifically to target me!”

“What? Why? What are you talking about?”

“The lights going off, then the clawing on the floor, the footsteps, then the tapping on the mirror… that’s too many coincidences to ignore!”

“Okay, Timothy,” she put her hands on my shoulders, “think for a second, what you are saying, why would someone go to so much effort, just to get to you? I mean, how much effort must this have taken? I’m sorry, Tim, but that’s insane.”

She was right, logically of course, it made very little sense, but then the CCTV footage switched on. Jane and I both watched as a clip from only an hour earlier played by itself. It was the music room, except it wasn’t empty. There was a hooded figure slowly making its way towards the camera. Its face was obscured, although you could just make out white, skeletal features behind the hood. As it drew closer to the screen, it held up a white sheet of paper, although the picture was black and white, as well as grainy, the words printed on it could just be made out.

‘Happy Hunting, Tim’

Then the screen cut to black and silence pervaded the entire castle.

Jane looked at me, fear evident in her eyes, I remember because it was the first time I had seen her truly scared.

“Tim… what the hell is going on?”

Conversations With My Psychiatrist (Part 1)

“Tell me, Damian… why are you here?”

“What?” I remember the bluntness of the question terrifying me, making me sick to my stomach, my hands began to shake, and my brow began to sweat. I had to force myself to swallow the overwhelming mixture of spit and phlegm that was squatting in my mouth, and feel it tumble clumsily down my dry throat. “What sort of question is that?”

The good doctor relieved his nose of the pressure of his glasses, and wiped the immaculate lenses on his bright, white shirt before settling them back, with care, on his face. “I believe it is a fair enough question, you’ve been coming to me for several months now, and I’m yet to understand exactly why you are here, it says here-“ he lifted up some of the papers piled on his desk and briefly glanced at a file somewhere near the bottom of the pile, “yes- it says you checked yourself into therapy, but you did not give a reason, and you haven’t told me anything thus far that would lead me to believe you need to be here.” He straightened out his already creaseless tie and coughed lightly. “I have told you before now, that if you do no provide us with a valid reason, we shall be forced to discharge you, the only reason you are still here now is because you have insisted, but now it is my turn to insist; I would like you to tell me why you are here, so that I can help you, it benefits you to tell me, far more than it does me.”

I remember how heavy my breathing became, I had to close my eyes for a moment, I could feel the anger building inside me, but I didn’t want him to see that… I wanted to confront him, but I couldn’t- I couldn’t bring myself to.

“Maybe there isn’t any definitive reason… but surely, if I feel the need to be here, surely that’s enough… right?”

“It is clear to me that you have some issues, Damian, but until you communicate with me, there is no way I can help you, and so long as you don’t, there is really no need for you to be here.”

I began to panic then. I didn’t want to be discharged, I didn’t want to face everything alone again, I wanted to be there. My mind began to frantically pace the corridors of my anxiety, each of them blending into one another, until there remained just one single idea.

“Okay… I have a problem, a problem with trust, and I find it hard to communicate with people I don’t trust.”

“You can trust me, Damian.”

“You say that… but can I? I have no reason- no reason to, trust- at least to me- trust is earned, not given because it says so on a certificate. I need to be able to trust you.” I remember rambling on like this for a while; I also remember thinking how unusual the word ‘trust’ sounded after some time, until he interrupted me.

“Damian, what can I do, that will make you trust me?” There it was again, how strange, that word: ‘trust’.

“You need to tell me something about yourself.”

“Okay, anything in particular?” He asked, nonchalantly.

“Something you wouldn’t particularly want to share with me, something- something you would have to trust me with.”

“Anything you have in mind?”

“A memory- a bad one- something embarrassing, maybe? Or something painful…”

“I don’t know-“

“It’ll work, trust me-“ I remember that being the first time I had smiled in that office, it was small, but light, largely made of wood; wooden floor, wooden desk, wooden bookshelf. It felt homely. I could tell that the doctor was somewhat apprehensive about sharing with me, but maybe it was the sight of me smiling that caused him to change his mind, it was after all, the first time.

“Fine-“ he paused for some time, and seemed to search for the perfect memory to recite, “a few years ago,” he began, “I was driving back home” he continued, “it was late, and I had just had one of the shittiest days of my entire career, but it was about to get a hell of a lot worse.” He sighed and interlocked his fingers, “I stopped at a set of lights, when all of a sudden this guy- a patient of mine starts banging on my car window, obviously he had recognised the car or something- I don’t know- anyway, he is shouting and screaming and crying at me, telling me I was the worst person he had ever known, telling me that I was a useless psychiatrist and that I hadn’t helped him one bit-“ He sighed again, louder this time, and longer too; he looked to the floor, “now this guy, he had some serious issues, he was bipolar among other things, I won’t go into detail- anyway- like I said, I’d had a shit day, and I just wanted to get home, but this guy, he was basically just rubbing salt into the wound, he sent me over the edge- I didn’t stop to talk to him, I didn’t even wind down my window, I just stuck my middle finger up and drove off.”

I must have looked somewhat shocked, or maybe he thought I should simply be shocked as a natural reaction to his tale, as he began to try and explain further.

“Next week, he didn’t turn up for his session, I wasn’t exactly surprised by that, I wouldn’t have turned up if I was him, but it wasn’t until later that day that I was told that he had killed himself that night,” he took off his glasses one more time, just to be sure every miniscule particle of dust was vacant, and rubbed them against the white fabric of his sleeve, “I’ve had to live with that for some time now, I essentially murdered a man, but if his death can help someone else- if it can help you communicate with me, then he will not have died for nothing.”

“What was his name?” I felt the compulsion to ask, and did so, without thinking, which was extremely uncharacteristic of me.

“I don’t think that is relevant.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine, Damian, now, is there something you wish to tell me?”

The sweat on my brow had ceased to exist, and my hands were hardly trembling at all, but I still felt sick, I still had that horrible urge to regurgitate all of the shit I had forced myself to eat. He had done what I had asked of him, and it had made me trust him more, it didn’t erase the fear however, it didn’t stop the fact that once I began to utter the words that were the narrative of my life, that they would solidify and become a part of reality, a reality which I would then be forced to face head on, with no-one to help me, or guide me, or tell me how I should tackle it.

“There are quite a few things I wish to tell you, but they are not things that I really want to speak out loud…”

“Well, let’s try starting with one of the less severe things you want to talk about, and we’ll work our way up from there, and hopefully, you’ll be able to trust me as we go on.”

“I suppose we could do that… okay, well, I think basically, I keep trying… I’m afraid of living.”

“What do you mean by that exactly Damian? Do you mean you are afraid of being alive, or do you mean that you are afraid to live?”

On some level I understood the distinction he was trying to make, but on the surface, that distinction seemed pretty arbitrary and ultimately meaningless, and more simply put; it confused me.

“I don’t know… both I suppose?”

“Okay, so what would you say the main characteristic of your fear is?”

I could break my fear down into many things, the fear of the outside world being one of them, the fear that life was ultimately meaningless and void of anything that could possibly hold any form of meaning was another. Honestly, what was the point? That was what I told him.

“Would you say you fear the outside world, or that you just simply do not like it there?”

It felt too soon to be answering such deep, elaborate questions, but for the sake of our agreement, I tried my best.

“There is nothing in the outside world that I would consider to be good, there are no good people in the world for one, and the world is full of horrors and atrocities that I don’t have the courage to face- but it’s more than that- why I am here, I mean- I am terrified of everything out there, but at the same time-“ I remember laughing in frustration and anger, “this is going to sound ridiculous,” I sighed, “despite hating and fearing the world, I desperately want to be a part of it.”

The doctor studied me for a while, his eyes boring into mine. He picked up the cup of coffee that was sat on his desk and brought it to his lips. I noticed the monotone, rhythmic ticking of the clock at that moment, and began to monitor it as closely as I could.

“Humanity- or at least the majority of humanity- craves human interaction; it is not unusual for you to feel that you want to be a part of the world, if you isolate yourself for long enough, you begin to develop that craving. If anything, I believe this is a good sign, if you told me you had absolutely no desire to be in contact with the community,  I would be led to believe that you were a severe sociopath, as it goes, you are looking more and more human.”

That was a surprise for me.

“I’m not a sociopath?”

“It’s too early to tell for sure, do you believe you are?”

I considered for a moment…

“I don’t see how I am not, I am completely apathetic to everything, I don’t care about anyone or anything anymore.”

“You truly believe that?”

“I do.”

The ticking of the clock was still the same, it ticked at regular intervals, and never sped up or slowed down, but the hands of the clock had moved, and it was almost time for me to leave, a fact that had become apparent to the good doctor.

“Damian, I would like to thank you for opening up to me today, we’ve made some excellent progress, do you think you’ll be able to continue this way in our next session?”

“I’ll try.”

“Good, until next time then…” He held out his hand- he hadn’t done that before- I supposed I should grab it, and shake it, the motion had always confused me however, I was never entirely sure what purpose it served… still, I did it. I turned to leave, but there was one question that was burning at the back of my  mind, and it was something I had to get out now, or I would never mention again, I knew that I wouldn’t…

“Doctor-“

“Please, call me-“

“No, no, no don’t… please… I was wondering… do you think there is something wrong with me?”

For the final time that afternoon, he removed his glasses, but this time he did not wipe them, he simply placed them next to his coffee mug.

“Damian, you could search the world, meet every person in existence and still not find a single human who doesn’t have something ‘wrong’ with them, you are not an anomaly, you are not a  freak, there is nothing ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ about you, you are simply… you, and dwelling on what you consider to be your flaws is a pointless exercise, one I would consider trying to cut out, at the very least reduce, because you will drive yourself mad if you consider it for too long.”

I considered what he had said, and knew that my answer would have been the same, no matter what words came out of his mouth.

“I think I want there to be something wrong with me…” And then I left.