I feel myself coming out of a daze, a waking-up from what has felt like a dark sleep, the darkness slowly beginning a glow into brighter and brighter light. I’m looking around, my eyes focusing.
What is this place I’ve been taken to? I’m still surrounded in fire, but the fire has become so bright, it’s almost white. I’m still not burning, though it’s very warm all around me. I see walls of near-white fire surrounding me…imprisoning me.
Because I was resisting my persecutors–that man and my aunt, who’s still possessed by Mama’s ghost, no doubt–resisting them with all of my strength, they found me so violent that I can see they’ve put me in a straitjacket. What I don’t have on my person anymore are my amulet and sachet!
My resistance was at its most violent when they were taking those things from me. The last thing I remember was someone sticking a needle in my arm as I saw them take away my amulet and sachet, and I was screaming…then everything slowly faded to black as my struggles grew weaker and weaker.
No longer at home with my magic circle or witch bottle to protect me, I feel completely naked, as it were, totally exposed to Mama’s magic! What am I going to do without any protection?
What were those magical formulas that I used to chant, to ward off her evil spells and apparitions? I’ve gone and forgotten them; in my stress and disorientation from the drug they put in my arm, I find myself unable to utter even one syllable of the ancient, mystical languages. Mama can do anything she wants to me, and I can’t stop her! She schemed to put me in this position, and now she has me right where she wants me. I’m as good as dead.
After I die, after she kills me, I’ll be in hell with her (I already am in hell here, but I’ll be even closer to her when I’m dead in body), and then she can really torture me…forever!
Let’s face it: I’ve already passed the entrance where the sign says, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
What’s this? Somebody’s coming into the room…if that’s what this fiery-walled, white room can be called, this prison cell of mine.
Oh, God! It’s that man, the one who calls himself my father, in the long white coat of a doctor. He thinks he’s going to treat me?
“Good afternoon, Roger,” he says to me with a phony smile. “How are you feeling now?”
“How do you think, Father?” I growl sarcastically at him.
“You think I’m your father?” he asks with an incredulous look.
“Isn’t that what you’ve been claiming you are?” I ask. “I assure you–you aren’t my father, and never will be.”
“I know that, Roger,” he says. “I’m your therapist. Your father and aunt are outside. They are hoping I can help you. You’ve been under sedation for several hours now. Now that the drugs are wearing off, they could be still affecting your hallucinations. I guess that’s why you’re seeing your father’s face instead of mine.”
I blink a few times and look at his face again. No, he isn’t that man. He looks quite similar, but he isn’t him.
“My name is Doctor Sweeney,” he says. “Feel free to talk to me about anything you like. Don’t censor yourself.”
“I’d rather not talk to you at all,” I say, still frowning at him.
“Why is that, Roger?”
I look around at the fiery, white walls, which look rather soft now–cushiony, even. This ‘doctor’ is no doubt part of Mama’s plan to get inside my head.
“Let’s just say that I don’t trust shrinks.”
“You’ve been mistreated by psychiatrists before?”
“I know who my aunt and that man are working for.”
He’s writing something down on a notepad. “And who is that, I’m curious to know?” he asks with a self-satisfied smirk.
“You know who,” I say with a scowl.
“Um, no, I’m afraid I don’t,” he says, still writing.
“Oh, yes, you do. You’re working for her, too, obviously.”
“For her?“
“Don’t play dumb with me, shrink.”
“I’m sorry, Roger, but I guess I am dumb. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why don’t you just tell me, then we can bring it out into the open and fully explore what’s troubling you?”
“Oh, right. Then you can call me crazy, lock me up in this inferno of a prison, and then Mama will get what she wants!”
“Mama? Is she who we’re working for?” he asks, still writing.
“Of course it’s her! Don’t you condescend me!”
“Didn’t your mother die a little while back?” he asks, writing really fast now. “Your aunt and father said she died…”
“HE’S NOT MY FATHER!!!”
“If you insist, though I do see a facial resemblance between you two.”
“You’re working for my mother, that’s why you say I look like him.”
“She is dead, though, isn’t she?” He’s still writing away.
“Of course she’d dead…in body, anyway.”
“So is she still alive in spirit? Is she a ghost?”
“Obviously!”
“Has her ghost appeared to you, telling you her plots against you?”
“I’ve seen her ghost, though she tells me little.”
“And why do you think she’s trying to persecute you?”
“Revenge.”
“For what?”
“Because I k…!” Oops. I’m quite silent now.
“Do you believe you…killed her?”
I’m still silent, looking down at my shoes.
“Your aunt and…that man say she died of a heart attack. You aren’t guilty of her murder, Roger. This guilt complex must be the basis of your delusions.”
“If I’m so non-violent, then can you please remove this straitjacket?”
“I’m afraid you might hurt yourself, and me.”
“Then I am of a violent nature, aren’t I? Violent enough to have killed her.”
“You have the potential to be, but you never killed…”
“We all have the potential to be violent, Doctor.”
“Am I being violent to you?”
“You’re depriving me of my freedom of movement, caging me in walls of white fire, binding my…”
“Walls of white fire?” Oh, he’s writing really fast now!
“Of course! Look around you! Are you blind?”
“No, but I must be having delusions myself, for all I see around us is a padded cell.”
“A padded cell? How cute.” Condescending bastard!
“Did your mother’s ghost surround us in white fire?”
“Of course she did! She’s a witch!”
That pen of his is moving like…crazy…now.
“Is that why you killed her? Did you use magic yourself to give her a heart attack?”
No courtroom would believe I killed her with magic, so I felt safe nodding at the shrink’s question.
“And now that she’s a spirit, I suppose she’s much freer to use her magic in a much more malignant way?”
“The fact that you can predict her freer use of magic on me proves that you are working for her,” I hiss at him. “But I can promise you this, shrink: I’ll find a way out of this prison. You’ll see!”
“M-hmm,” the shrink says in his usual smug manner. “What do you think your mother’s ghost is going to do to you, and to the world in general?”
“She’s destroying the global economy, she’s worsening global warming, as you can see all around us,…”
“Oh, yes, the burning padded cell.” He’s writing this all down, of course.
“…and the worsening of tensions between the West and China and Russia, leading to World War Three and nuclear annihilation.”
“Your mother’s ghost is causing all that? She must be one powerful witch.”
“Is condescension your preferred form of therapy, shrink?”
“No, getting all your thoughts out in the open, analyzing them, and learning where you got them from is my preferred method.”
“And where do you think I got my ideas from, Doctor? My tinfoil hat?”
“We’ll figure that out in time, Roger. For now, though, I’d like to observe you talking with your aunt and your f…, excuse me, that man.”
“Oh, God, no! Not him!”
“If he isn’t your father, why does he upset you so?”
“Because you all want me to believe he is!”
“How will believing he’s your father harm you?”
“It’s a lie of Mama’s, intended to lead me into a world of illusions!”
“Your hallucinations and delusions have already done that, Roger. I think you’re far more afraid of realizing that he really is your father. There’s something about him really being your father that you’d find devastating. We must explore this possibility, nonetheless, to get to the root of what is troubling you. I’ll be right back with him and your aunt.”
The shrink is getting up and walking towards the fiery white walls. I’m trembling in this straitjacket, rocking back and forth, trying desperately to hang on.
Oh, God, they’re coming in, emerging from the white fire!
Maybe I can incinerate myself by ramming into one of the fiery walls. Unh! I feel no burns from it, only a cushion pushing me back into the middle of the area. Mama won’t let me kill myself! She wants to torture me by forcing me to face this man!
He’s standing in front of me, looking at me with a fake look of concern for me. That shrink says he resembles me…wait! His face is being reshaped…to look exactly like mine! This is another of Mama’s tricks, for sure!
“Roger, please accept that I’m your father,” the impostor says. “Here’s a photo of your mom and me when we were dating. I had all my hair back then, but you should be able to see that it’s my face. Look!”
I’m looking at it, then looking back at him. His face is changing again: I’m seeing five eyes on it, three noses, and two mouths. Definitely not the face in the photo. Granted, the monstrous face I see on him is not his real face–something Mama is making me see–but it doesn’t prove he’s the man who dated Mama and got her pregnant.
All I can do is laugh at him. “It’s not you, old man.”
“Yes, it is,” he insists. “Deny it all you want, I am your old man. I’ll prove it further.”
He’s fumbling in his pockets for something. I’m sighing in exasperation. “My father died years ago!“
“No, he didn’t. He’s standing right here in front of you, Roger.” He takes out some paper and presents it to my reluctant eyes. “Here’s a document from a paternity test I did. Look at it! See my photo, and your name, and your mother’s name.” He’s pointing everything out for me.
“Forgeries!” I shout.
I get groans of frustration from him, my aunt, and the shrink.
“Roger, why is it so awful to you to believe that I’m your father?” that man asks. “Can’t you see how hurtful it is to me to be rejected by my own son? I know I left you before you were born, and I remained uninvolved in your life, and I’m sorry about that, truly sorry! But I want to make it up to you now. I wanna take care of you. I wanna help you get well. I can see now that the lack of a father in your life is, to a great extent at least, the cause of your sickness. I left your mother because I could see that there was something wrong with her, some kind of narcissism or psychopathy in her. It was a cowardly move on my part to have left you, and I’m sorry. Can’t your father get a second chance?”
“No,” I say with an icy look.
“Why not?” he screams.
“My father can’t get a second chance because my mother killed him. You’re right about her probably being narcissistic or psychopathic; but you left out one thing.”
“What’s that?” my aunt and the shrink ask together.
“My mother was a witch.”
More groans from all three of them. I’m unmoved.
“Look, Dr. Sweeney, could you at least remove the straitjacket?” the man asks. “Let’s give him some dignity. He isn’t normally violent. I’m sure we’ll be safe.”
With a sigh, the shrink says, “All right. I have orderlies just outside, who’ll come in at the drop of a hat the very second he begins acting up.”
“I’m sure he’ll be OK,” my aunt says. “He only got combative when we took those two silly things off of him, that necklace and sachet.”
“My only means of protection from Mama’s magic,” I growl as the shrink is taking off the straitjacket.
“Ridiculous,” my aunt says.
My arms are free at last. I’m still calm.
“See?” I tell the shrink. “I’m in control.”
“Please, Roger,” the man says with teary eyes. “Stop pushing me away. Let me be your father.”
“His ‘proof’ is faked,” I grunt through clenched teeth.
“Oh, you’re a fine one to judge the falsity of anything,” she says. “Will you ever acknowledge the falsity of your own delusions and hallucinations? You can’t see what’s wrong with what your eyes see and your ears hear, yet you’re so sure his photos and documentation are faked? He’s a nice man. OK, he left you and your mom, but he wants to make amends. Why can’t you just forgive him?”
My head is bent down, looking at my shoes again. I’m fighting back sobs. Tears are forming in my eyes.
“Your own mother told you he left you and her,” my aunt says. “Where’d you get this weird idea that she killed your father with witchcraft?”
“She lied to me,” I’m sobbing. “That witch was a liar!“
“Your very thoughts are lying to you,” my aunt says. “As soon as you come to accept that, you’ll begin to heal.”
“I abandoned you, Roger,” that man says. “I left you with a sick, disordered woman. I should never have done that. I was weak, irresponsible, and cowardly for doing that to you, and for that I am deeply sorry. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”
Now, I am bawling like a baby.
“Roger,…” he begins to say.
“No,” my aunt says, taking his arm. “Let’s leave him. Let him explore his thoughts a while, search his feelings. Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”
The two of them leave the room with the doctor. I’m no longer seeing white flames surrounding me. I really do see a padded cell, all white cushions for walls and the floor.
I’m still bawling my eyes out. Could it be true? Could that man really be my father? Did he abandon me, and leave me to the mercy of that horrible woman? Could he, my father, have been so unloving, so selfish, and so cruel? Could my father really have been so weak, so cowardly, so irresponsible, so contemptible?
My face is drowning in tears. My sobbing must be audible all over this…mental hospital. How embarrassing.
The idea I’ve had in my mind, that my father was a great man, murdered by my treacherous mother…is it just me kidding myself? Am I really so worthless as to be the offspring of such a feckless coward and a scheming bitch? Oh, that’s even worse, much worse!
No! This whole thing is a lie! That man is not my father! Surely, I come from better stock than that! Mama’s ghost tried to trick me there, to provoke my tears, but that was just a temporary weakness in me! This was all part of her plan to deceive me further!
I see that the white flames have returned. Mama is using them to trick me into thinking I’m deceiving myself again.
Still, I’ll go along with her plan. I’ll pretend I’ve accepted that man, even in my private thoughts. Then my conspirators will relax their hold on me, and I can figure out a way to escape this fiery prison.
And then, maybe, I’ll learn some more magic to stop Mama, and to save the world from the fiery hell of war she wants to impose on it.
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