Volume 3 – The Obscure Incident
#122 – Denial
During the night; my thoughts alternated between calling the police to secure the building and finding a crazy individual who claims to have dealt with ghosts before. Both seemed impossible. All the crazy stuff was happening in a secretive way… I had no real guide or ‘legitimate’ threat for calling the police, and no exorcist would be crazy enough to believe in ‘real’ ghosts no matter what he would say to me.
What? Was I really going to tell people I was scared of ghosts roaming around the school building? I would probably end up in a mental hospital.
A mental hospital… Maybe that was it. Maybe I needed to go to a mental hospital. I was schizophrenic. Nothing really had happened yesterday, or the days before, and it was all in my mind. I was imagining crazy things. I had let the stress of life get to me. Something had happened, and I was now crazy. No wonder Ilayda, or anyone else for that matter, had not seen or heard anything all that time. It was all in my mind.
But, if that was the truth… What about all the people I once knew, that suddenly went missing? What about all the mess in the school building? Were they all my doing? Furthermore, was my mind making up random people out of thin air?
It was dangerous for me to continue going to school and working as a teacher. It hadn’t been so problematic for the people around me just yet, but who knew what I could do next? I decided not to go to school tomorrow, and went to sleep.
Early in the morning, I called the school from home and notified them of my ‘necessary absence’. I got yelled at pretty badly, but in my opinion, this was worth it. I used being sick as an excuse; which wasn’t entirely a lie. I just didn’t go into too much detail and mention the mental part of it.
I left my apartment and went to talk with a psychologist. I spent a lot of effort trying to get an appointment for afternoon, claiming my issues were serious. Even though they had to rearrange the rest of their plans for that day, the info/admission desk managed to make some time for me.
Time passed pretty quickly, and I got into the psychologist’s room. The room was cozy, and most objects were wooden. It was illuminated by the light coming from a single window. In the room, there was an old man with white hair, sitting on a chair behind a desk. He had round glasses, which were looking like they were barely holding to the man’s nose without falling. His voice was calm.
He looked at me for a few seconds when I entered the room and closed the door.
“Please have a seat.” he said. I sat down on the couch, just about a meter or two in front of his desk. He looked at something on his desk, and back to me. Maybe he was trying to read my facial expressions.
“How shall I refer to you, mister?” he asked.
“Kenan.” I said. “…is my name.”
“So, Kenan… What are you feeling right now?” he asked.
“Anxiety…” I said. “Helplessness… Fear!”
As I talked, he kept looking at me trying to keep a straight face, but I could see some slight changes on his expressions.
“So, Kenan… First of all, I think you want to know…” he said. “I can confidently say that you are in the right place. Whatever you experienced so far seems to have left a prominent impact on you.”
“Is that so…”
“You are worried about something outside this room.” he said. Was I that easy to read, or was he simply too experienced as a psychologist?
“However, this is not going to help.” he continued without asking me why I came here, or what my problem really was. “Try to leave it outside the room, just for now.”
“I… I can’t.” I tried to say, but I couldn’t.
“Hmm?” He figured that I had said something, but he couldn’t hear it.
“Yes.” I decided to play it his way.
“You are a pretty interesting individual.” he said. “Tell me what brought you here.”
“I left it outside the room, for now.” I replied. “…just like you told me to do.”
“Good, but that’s not what I was asking for anyway.” he said. “You wouldn’t come here yourself for someone else’s problems, right?”
“Yes.” I said.
“So tell me…” he said. “How did you decide to come here?”
“I was… I found myself helpless against my own thoughts.” I said.
“I’m not going to ask for specifics yet, but what kind of thoughts are these? Can you tell me more about it?”
“Crazy ones. I’m scared of my own mind.”
“Right on point. That’s what I wanted to hear about.” he said, and paused for a few seconds. I started looking around while he was thinking about something. “You are seeking for help against your own mind.”
“Yes.” I said. “I don’t think I am in control anymore. In a brief moment of realisation, I found the chance to bring myself here.”
“You used the opportunity to bring yourself to safety.” he replied. “Do you feel like you are in control now?”
“Do you feel like you found help?”
“I hope so.”
“You are afraid.” No matter what he was saying, the man’s calm voice was really pleasant to listen to.
“I want to trust you.” I said.
“No, you are afraid.” he said. “If we are going to help each other, I want to trust you too. But you have something else in your mind; and you can’t leave it outside the room. I am asking you for a short time.”
“I can’t do that.” I finally said it.
“You are afraid.” he repeated. “You think something bad is going to happen, and you feel helpless against the seemingly inevitable thing. Your mind can’t let go of the thought, and you constantly feel the pressure.”
This man’s observations were really good. A bit… too good. In fact, it was so good it was making me uncomfortable.
“But I know it is not real!” I said. “Nothing is going to happen. I know it!”
“You want to deny it… At this point, just tell me already.” he said. “What are you scared of, and what are you trying to deny?”
Ghosts! Evil spirits! Death! Murder! – that was everything I wanted to say. But… I was holding myself back. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say that I believed in ghosts, I didn’t want to.
“No, I know they are not real…”
With a quick change of mind, I ran out of the room. Everyone looked at me, clearly surprised. After that brief pause, I ran out of the building and quickly got away.
“You are okay.” I said myself. “It wasn’t real.”