As always, I was never too far from a pad of paper or pen, I was too close to ideas being forgotten or miswritten, I couldn't let it happen. Every spark or wheel turn inside me, I marked them so small on the page, so I could fit more lyrics, stories and nonsense on the pages, I needed the pages to last through the nights, there's nothing worse than writing and running out of whiteness, by the time I got some more, brain-farts could be lost.
"So, you have an infatuation with serial killers?" He asks.
"Not really, I know of them and seen the movies. In all honesty, I prefer to create my own murders and murderers."
"Well, I have a little game that involves killers, you interested?"
"Doc, you know I love to play games. Why tempt me."
"How's about we play a fun word associating game?"
"If it beats talking about my dad or why I committed my own murders, I'm up for it."
"Okay, So I will say a name and you tell me the first thing which pops into your head."
"C'mon, hurry up, we've only got like twenty minutes before our sesh' is over."
"Hannibal Lecture..."
"Eating Disorder." Nailed it.
McKay blows raspberries, trying to hold back a laugh.
"Norman Bates..."
"Mommas boy. I've got no problem about dressing up as the opposite sex, though, running around butchering people in mommies clothes, it's a tad weird." I'm on fire.
"Dexter... The TV Show." The doctor is ticking serial killers off a list as he reads them aloud. I didn't make it past season two of this show.
"He's conflicted, but I like the idea of a killer who kills killers for killing. Am I killing this game or what, doc?"
"Yeah-Yeah. Sweeny Todd?" He's trying to catch me out here.
"False advertising... You go in to the fucking barber shop for a shave and get your whole head chopped off and put into a pie; trading standards need to have a word with him."
"Okay, let's try some real-life people. Ted Bundy..."
"Greedy. He kept all those women to himself and never shared or let them back into the wild. He was just never happy, what a weak, weak, selfish man."
"Ed Gein..."
"Where do I start? Jesus! Here's a man who has tried to gain control of his life from his dead mother with a calming rage and the creativity of dead or alive body parts. And when he..." My words need my undivided attention. I fall away from the conversation and begin a new life.
"And you've stopped talking, what is it you're writing now? You know, your poetry seems to be doing rather well out in the world, are you squiggling more down?"
"No â No, all this talking about fictional killers and psychopaths, has given me an idea. Picture all the great movies and characters set in asylums or surrounding crazy people. Angie Jolie, in Girl Interrupted. Christian Bale, in American Psycho. Jack Nicholson, in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. You bundle them all together and see what happens. And, right at the epicentre sits me, pulling strings and puppeteering mouths. A director of the silver bladed screen."
"Interesting, you've interjected yourself into the movies you have seen, and beside the characters which have had some impact on you, in some way. Do you know why you would write something like this?"
"I dunno', maybe because it was something to scrawl while I was sitting here or maybe because I can see parts of myself within these people. Like I said, I don't know." I make a gun with my fingers and shoot targets around the room.
He repositions himself in his chair; how long has he been slouched there today?
"So, a few weeks ago, I remember you mentioned your nightmares were scaring you awake, is this still happening? If so, we may need to take a look at upping your medication."
"The dreams beat the shit outta' me, now and again, last night was interesting."
Here I sit, perched on the windows ledge looking through the metal mesh to see the ever-turning wilderness; still trees, roaming clouds and roaring grass, peaceful. The world is shaking somewhat; new drugs, better drugs, bye-bye world.
A one knuckle knocks from the side, Brian leans by the door. His eyes clear from murder and filled with a clear conscious.
"Kye, you need to come downstairs, we've all been expecting you. C'mon man, it's time." He walks away.
O' door, O' mine, oh my, you're open, O' lord. I flounce from my worktop; I doesn't feel like I am putting one foot in front of the other, more, floating on the idea of walking. With every invisible step, I drift into cleanliness; everything else of me becomes cloaked in a clandestine clothing.
This place is no longer a stronghold for the cast outs; it's now a fortress full of thoughtful fallers. No doctors, no manacles, no pill popping. Damn, this feels good.
The sun stalks outside the door, light columns elongate through every window, the dust residue sticks to the escaping light.
Fall deeper and deeper into this, Kyle. Everyone has congregated in the canteen; the area where the animals fight over a trough filled with sludge, they call it food. My hand hovers above the handle. What greeting will I be met with? I snap my wrist and the door flies open. An around of applause apples my eyes. No sandbags under my children's leer, no head ticks, only cured behaviours served along with the purest of hearts.
Derek stands proud, his arm pythons around Latoya. "Ladies and gentlemen, our brother and saviour has arrived. And, I know I'm not the only one who would love to say thank you; don't think you're getting away from this brother, we all want a motherfucking speech. He's hard as motherfucker." Derek's vague expression has been wiped from his face, his speech pediments and baggage have slipped away in the night. It's marvellous to marvel upon.
I put out my hands to slow down their excitement to a full stop.
"I am glad you're all feeling better, I am. Brian is able to be in a room with another woman without his monster inside wanting to commit atrocities to them. And, Derek, Mr. Mountain, I'm so pleased to see you like this, my friend.
"Tell me about high school."
"Why?" I pull back my thumb hammer and shoot him. Pow!
"Because you talk highly of people in here, I would like to see from your side how things were when you were surrounded by your peers."
Twiddle those thumbs, breathe and count those colourful ten wonderful numbers and bring forth the numbness in some sort of mutter, it doesn't matter.
"C'mon, you can work this one out, doc; you did go to school as well, didn't you? I never wanted to be this dude, but this is the end result of my history that shifted my geography, since then my mathematical problems doubled, tripled and quadrupled and within all my sense of science I am left with the physical education which made me runaway with a pipedream for bad English and the dark-side of the human anatomy and biology. So yeah, school sucked that's my philosophy. Next question."
His hand combs his half cut subtle stubble.
"I'm glad you're opening up to me, it is hard to when you've never had the chance too; you don't have to play games, I won't judge if you let everything flow naturally. Think of me as someone who cares about what your feeling and thinking."
"That sounds super-gay. But, okay. I know it's just, in truth, all I have are games and word wizardry at this point in life, it's my state, not only mine, I'm not the only one; there are people like me everywhere, every day. It's not our fault."
He stops his shunted pens heart.
"Whose fault, is it?"
"It's everyone's fault, they, we, me, you, we're all to blame for everything, for all of this. Actions verse reactions. So, from the bully, to the father, to the boss, to our countries leaders, they are accountable for it. I remember once when a kid hit me outside my house, I came running in, this was before my Mam passed away, Anyway, I came running inside and I was screaming, I hate this place, I want to move away, far away. My Mother slouched down and said a place is what you make it, it's what we all make it, if a place is bad it's because we allow it to be bad. If you want to change it for the better, you yourself not only have to change but change people's minds too, thus making things better so you have a better life. My Mam should have been Prime Minister or president of the world, something cool like that. And, please don't fucking get me started on those weak bitch-arse politician, who think they run this country. It's all for one and all for them, they have no morals. They don't care about us, as long as they get their fifteen minutes of TV time and their overpaid salary every week while they still take from us; that's fine with them. They are the lowest form of evil; they should be wiped off the board and off the fucking map."
"Kyle, it was my understanding our governments were supposed to protect the people."
Shake my shamed head; rub a rebuttal on his bleak black butt.
"Our governments throughout history have lost their people's confidence, so what do they do to ensure they can make the people believe in them again? They strike fear into the hearts of the people. They make up monsters and terrorists, so the people come back grovelling to their governments for safety and secure living. It is all a ploy, they take our well-earned money, why not stretch that bar and take a few lives with it all. Plus, it cuts down on population control. When a country has become overrun by mass-births, governments' release a plague, religion, disease or they ensue a civil war or some bullshit along those lines. I'm kind of a conspiracy nut, but hey-ho, half the world is because they don't trust the other half."
He veins the pen on his kneed sheets again. I know what he is writing; Kyle, exhibits paranoid delusions about his surroundings, this must stem from his trust issues from his home life.
"I do see your sense, perhaps it's true, let me be candid, how would you want this world to be run? Any way you want, you're king, emperor, a God. You have the floor."
"I'm already a God in my own right, I don't listen to people beg, even though I know what you want, but for funs sake, I would wipe governments politicians from the map, like I said before; why am I being told to follow weak people, I would only allow powerful people be in power. Switch the rich with the poverty-stricken. I'd let people be the animals we are, fuck, kill, steal, hurt, every single day; have a nice day at work, honey... I will, those people aren't gonna' murder and rape themselves."
"Do you understand that those things are illegal?"
"It's not that I don't understand, it just doesn't make sense, it does not compute, I've never came to real grips with it, it seems phony, all of it. The world brings in rules hundreds of years ago, do not kill, you will go to prison or the bad-fire, we still do it. So, that says to me either we're so dumb we don't care about the consequences or we're always going to do it because it's one of the main fundamentals of humanity. But, from every direction, movies, magazines, speeches; they all spurt out, be true to you. And, when you become the true-you, you end up sitting in front of Dr. McKay. Something is broken here on planet Earth and I don't think it's me, Doc'. It's everyone else."
"Hmmmmm" I hate when people counter with sounds, are they really listening? "Kyle, how are you sleeping with the new meds, rather than the old ones we had you on?" His concern chops throw further than any other question.
"Whoa! You completely changed the subject there. I sleep well, knowing all my enemies are laid in the same position I do in bed, face up and stiff. I'm still breathing, have to keep going, that's the only thing that sends me over. You ought'a know that."
"And your dreams?"
"Like you said, depends on my meds, tiredness and the fractured frame of mind I am in at that time. I have been having this success dream lately when I'm not dreaming about the other one. I'm sitting in a large audience of screenwriters, actors and musicians; and the sexiest, fake fucking female I have ever seen, she says my name over the microphone, I stand and walk down the aisle, everyone stands up and applauds the appeal of my appalling penned sheets. I get on stage and I accept my award..."
"That sounds nice. You know, it's always a great idea to have motivations to become a sensation, it's also a great healer."
"I'd hold that thought, doc. Once I accept my award, a few of my friends enter from all entrances and exits and lock the doors. All my Facebook friends are armed to the teeth with axes, knives, guns and fire. We all go to town on them all. No one survives. After I leave the ceremony I am walking blood dowsed, the paparazzi don't even click their camera lenses; they're too busy clicking their heels to get back home. A sea of people sees me coming, from teeny-bops to cops. They all fall to their knees."
"Why do you think you dreamt that?"
"I don't know; how about don't ask stupid shitty questions. That's like asking me why I dreamt about killing my dad when I was twelve, chopping his body into little bits and nailing his dismembers fragments all over the house walls. There are some questions to life that weren't meant to be answered by simple sane logic."
"Do you know there's something wrong with you, Kyle? I mean, do you know you have a mental defect?"
"You make it sound like a bad thing, I don't think I am worse off than some people, I feel mah'. Well, from as far back as I can remember not being like everyone else, watching them and doing dumb shit over and over again to themselves and others, only for an extra step. Sane people love to be controlled and told what to do. But, I always thought I was in the wrong thinking the way I do, so I kept my mouth shut and became controlled too. If I could see outside of my body, it must have been a sad sight to see. Nevertheless, to answer your question, yeah, I understand I was cryptical, especially when I said something in a joke and the whole room would just gasp backwards and stare with disgust or distain. Little things like that help take you off the social atlas forever. I just gave in to who I really was." Get on topic, Kyle. "When can I see my sister?"
"You know your sister is unwell too, we'll have to figure out a way to support both of your needs and we can go from there. It may take some time."
Jess, she always made me wet myself laughing. She was always apprehensive of the floor, the floor was lava, when it was her turn to switch off the bedroom lights, once she clicked that button, she'd take a couple of log strides and launch herself from her sheets. I hope she's save at night in this place.
"It's funny; I could only ever talk to Jess about my thoughts. She said it was like sifting through a mountain of glass trying to find a key to my reasoning."
"I will certainly bare that in mind for future sessions. We're almost out of time, is there anything you would like to ask me? It could be anything you need to say, Kyle."
"Can I have some more paper? And, some books to read? Idle hands piss me off, I should take up smoking or knitting, I guess, I'd kindda' say thank you, if you did."
"I will make sure you have what you need by dinnertime, you have my word. No smoking and no knitting, only more writing, okay?" He springs to his feet, paperwork is under armed and a hand has been presented to be shaken, like gentlemen, we finish. Be nice, I have seen this through.