Dr Fox’s Office
November 22, 11.00 a.m.
Nick looked up at the cream ceiling of Dr Fox’s office and closed his eyes. He’d been sitting opposite his psychoanalyst for just under an hour and was feeling no better. He’d spilled his sick nightmares all over Marty’s lap but that just left him feeling confused and angry. He looked across at Marty with wide eyes.
Marty was drumming on his desk. Nick hadn’t answered his question so he repeated it. ‘How often do you dream about hurting people, Nick?’
Nick had felt bad for so long, he’d forgotten what feeling normal was like. He didn’t enjoy the dreams, no question about it. He wasn’t himself. The thing was to keep tight. When the feelings came on him, he had to concentrate real hard, but he was scared. He looked up at Marty. ‘The thing is, Doctor, I think maybe there’s a devil in us all, wanting to get out there and destroy, you know. My wife, Dee, she says I’m possessed sometimes. ’ Nick turned his eyes to the psychologist. They were rimmed with red. He had a real strange look to him sometimes. ‘It doesn’t feel like I’ve got a lot of control left. I used to be able to stop it, you know, hold it off.’
‘Hold what off, Nick?’
‘The pain in my head. I used to be able to run clear through it. Now it just continues until I just… I can’t stop it any more.’
‘Then what happens?’
‘I told you. I can’t remember what happens next. I black out. I wake up and I don’t know what I’ve been doing. I don’t know where I am. Sometimes, I’m wet all over. My clothes, you know, are dripping wet like I’ve been standing in a shower. What am I?’
‘I don’t know, Nick, you’ve got to tell me.’
‘I sometimes find things in my car.’
‘What kind of things?’
Nick turned away from Marty. ‘Can I tell you?’
‘Sure you can tell me.’
‘I won’t get into trouble?’
‘I can’t tell anyone anything, Nick. Not a thing.’
‘Sometimes I find things I must’ve stolen.’
‘Like what?’
‘Jewellery, clothes, shoes. Money sometimes.’
‘Where do they come from?’
‘I’m some sick bastard, aren’t I? Ever since I lost my job, I’ve been blacking out and stealing things. Haven’t I, Doctor?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, where in the hell do these things come from?’
Nick’s right hand slipped into his trouser pocket and pulled out a necklace. He held it up. A small silver crucifix studded with diamonds glinted in the light. ‘I found it yesterday. Along with over a thousand dollars in cash. I’m burglarizing people, aren’t I?’
Marty picked the necklace from Nick’s hand and held it up. ‘Looks expensive.’
‘I know I’m doing something, Doctor. Sometimes, I got scratches on my face and hands. Is it possible to rob people like that? What am I, some monster? But I don’t remember any of it. Only sometimes I see the inside of people’s cars or apartments. I guess that’s where I must steal these things.’
Marty Fox wrote Dissociative Identity Disorder on his pad. This guy was a potential multiple personality. Memory loss. Flashbacks. It was possible Nick had invented an alter ego. A man who gave an outlet to whatever Nick couldn’t face about himself. From Nick’s dreams, Marty guessed that this alter ego stole what he could and maybe stalked women and even mugged them. He didn’t know. This was beyond his expertise. He leaned in to Nick and spoke as quietly as he could.
‘You’re confused, Nick. Listen, it is possible that you’re suffering some kind of split personality. Sometimes a traumatic event can trigger things off, and the mind creates these alternative personalities to protect you from whatever is too difficult for you to see.’ Nick stared ahead. ‘You ever have a traumatic time, Nick, somewhere in the past?’
‘I was in love once, Doctor.’
Marty’s eyes glanced down at the personal column. He had been searching the dating ads. He couldn’t act on them any more, but he still couldn’t help himself looking. Then he looked up. ‘I like love stories, Nick — who was she?’
Nick twisted his body in his seat. ‘My first love. I was only a boy. I knew her as a friend, you know. I was a real quiet one back then. She didn’t love me, Doctor. I loved her from a distance.’
‘All sounds pretty normal to me, Nick. She was hot, was she?’
‘Like a perfect doll. But she was untouchable.’
‘So what happened with this girl?’
‘I wanted her so badly, it drove me crazy. She was just a kid, but then she started growing up herself. I couldn’t take seeing her with other boys.’
‘You were jealous?’
‘I’d say I was pretty jealous. I watched from a distance but kept it all tucked deep inside. See, she was a goddess to me. Nothing in my life was pure and perfect, Doctor. But she was.’
‘Not easy when you’re smitten.’
‘I knew the day would come. I’m not stupid. I knew that she would flower and the insects would come and feed on her. Have you ever seen how insects crawl over beautiful blossoms? I knew it would with her. I watched and things happened inside me. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘Did she date someone else, Nick?’
Nick lowered his eyes. Marty was intrigued. He liked a little je ne sais quoi in his sessions.
‘Someone took her. A young man who didn’t really care about her.’
‘What happened?’
‘On a summer day, he took her to the local spot. He charmed her. She was reluctant and scared. They were walking in the valley and I was following on the ridge above. Then he pressed her to the ground, kissing her. His hands started to touch her. All inside and out and where you shouldn’t. I watched like I was behind glass. He touched her. She called out for him to stop but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He lifted her skirt and he put his hand right inside her skirt. She cried out “No”. She screamed it. She said “No” over and over but he said, “You want to make me happy, don’t you?” I wanted to help her. I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move, Doctor?’
‘Why do you think you couldn’t move, Nick?’
‘I was paralysed on the spot like some dumb staring animal. They wouldn’t call it rape, Doctor, but it was rape. It was…’
‘What?’
‘After that, I couldn’t sleep. I went off the rails.’
Marty Fox liked the story. Girl and boy making out in the grass with a fierce rival staring from the ridge. The girl gets a little hands-off when it starts looking serious. Yeah, he got that story. It was a TV movie kind of story. Marty imagined it easily. Except he didn’t identify with the boy on the ridge. He identified with the boy with his hands inside the girl’s jeans. That’s where he was in the story, not with the loser. He looked at Nick.
‘The boy who raped her, Nick. Was that you?’
Nick turned his head suddenly. ‘Me? I was watching. How could it be me?’
‘Sometimes, we do things we regret. Bad things. Sometimes, we get confused over what happened because we feel so damn guilty. Sometimes we build great big barriers and when we look at the situation again, we don’t really know what happened.’
‘I loved her. I didn’t do that. I didn’t ever do that to her.’
‘Okay, let’s calm down. Why don’t we talk about processing these past events. There are details there that need drawing out. I think we need closure on the girl.’
Nick was clenching his fists and staring down at his feet. ‘What would you do, Marty? Someone killed the girl you loved?’
‘He didn’t kill her, Nick.’
‘He did kill her, Doctor. God, I miss her. When they die, you don’t half miss them.’
Marty looked at his patient. He was shaking and holding himself. It was time to refer him. Marty didn’t like serious problems and this one was beginning to feel outside his comfort zone. He drew two red lines under the session notes and wrote a note to his PA: Transfer to Dr Bartholomew with immediate effect.