Seven-X (30 page)
Before I could get a word out, Annette intervened, “He can call me Annette. That’s what he calls me. I know who I am and what I did now. You showed me.”
“I’m sorry. I know I hurt you,” I told her.
“Hurt. You shattered me,” she said sitting upright. “You wanted to see me suffer.”
“I didn’t… I don’t know why I…”
“…Felt the need to destroy me,” she said finishing my sentence with her interpretation.
“Annie, don’t let your thoughts take control,” Reverend Billings instructed. “What do we do with our thoughts?”
“Take them captive to Christ,” she moaned. Turning back to Billings, she cried out. “Look at him! Look! He doesn’t care what I went through. All he wants is his story.”
“Annie, I’m sorry. I don’t remember saying anything,” I said, sincerely.
“How would you feel Eddie? If you suddenly realized an entire different reality to your life existed. The worst part of you, your worst nightmare was true.”
“I’d be hurt and confused,” I told her, sitting down at the edge of her bed.
“And sick. Sick to death. I felt like my heart was going to explode. Like I deserved death for my sins. I killed my children and for the first time, I saw it with a clear head and had to deal with it. I had to look into my son’s eyes and promise myself that I was a new creation, that old things passed away, and I’d never do that again. I begged God to forgive me. I cried for days for mercy on my soul.”
“God did forgive you Annie. All things are new,” said Billings. “You are a new creation in Christ.
Then why do I hear voices telling me to make him suffer like I did,” Annie groaned. “Why?”
“Temptation, Annie,” interjected Billings. “Remember. Test the spirits. Take control.”
“Look at me, Annie,” I told her, moving closer. “I’ve suffered immensely.
“I’m Annette to you. I see it in your eyes Eddie. I hear it in your voice. You want my story so you can glorify yourself, while the world judges me. What will they do to me, Eddie? Will I ever have peace if you leave here?
That question stopped me cold. Was she trying to keep me here? Could she? What if they don’t want me to take my story with me? What would this story do to Annette Dobson if I published it? What would it do to both Kevin’s, husband and son? What would it do to me?
Looking into Annie’s eyes all I could ask was, “Do you have peace now?”
“Had peace,” she moaned. “I had peace, until you came here. Until my tormentors returned seven fold to weigh my sins against me. Until a man stormed into my room threatening my child, before killing himself in front of us. And now I have to fight for peace with every breath I have. Get down on my knees and pray that I can be strong enough to hold off my attackers. I feel eight demons pressing against my head, against my heart, trying to get in an open door. I hear each of their voices reminding me in different ways of my past, my failure, each and every sin! And they are begging me to revenge your offense and harm my son.”
With every word, she said, she moved closer, and I could see something burning in her eyes, in her soul, but it soon dissipated, as a light reflected through her eyes.
“But I refuse to listen to those lies anymore,” she told me as we met eye to eye. “I forgive you Eddie. I can live with myself now. I forgive you. Go and do whatever you feel is right. But may God be merciful with your choice.”
“Thank you Annie,” I said, getting up. “You are Annie now.”
After that, I had no idea what to say. There was an extended moment of silence where we all observed each other as a gust of cold air blew through the room.
Then Reverend Billings spoke, sensing something was taking place in invisible realms. “Annie. Eddie. Anything you want to express before we leave?”
“I’m good,” I responded, trying to take it all in.
“I’ll pray for you Eddie,” Dobson told me. “These demons won’t be staying with me anymore.”
“Would you like to pray together before we leave Eddie?” asked Reverend Billings. “Or are you ready to see Dr. Haworth?”
“Let’s roll,” I told him before turning back to her saying, “Annie, I promise no one will come here for you. Unless you want me to let Kevin know you’re okay, I’ll do…”
“Eddie!” Billings interrupted, glaring at me with a strict stare that said watch it. “It’s time to go!”
As I walked out, I’ll never forget the look of regret and sadness that lined the face of Annette Dobson. I guess I stunned her again, reminding her of the love she left behind, that may never be mended. As the door was about to close on my chapter with Annette Dobson, she spoke, smiling seductively.
“You know what Ose just told me Eddie? They’re coming for you. Good luck with that!”
JOURNAL ENTRY:
THURSDAY DECEMBER 23, 2010 – 4:48 PM
Why’d she have to say that?
Of all things to leave me with, I’m not sure I want the demons of Annette Dobson following me. There is tension in the air. My nerves are raw with emotion. I feel rattled, like a snake coiled up ready to strike. That’s probably because I may need to defend myself, and the venom within me, is all I have left to strike down my enemy.
I’m trying to focus on writing, as I wait outside Haworth’s office. Haworth and Billings have been chatting it up for awhile, keeping me on edge. To complicate matters, my old friend Curtis is standing guard at the door, making sure I stay put. He was released from Ward D yesterday, and has retained his guard duties, while Timothy Tyler is about to undertake his final descent into Ward E.
According to Curtis, Reverend Billings made his third and final attempt at an exorcism with Tyler, but it was unsuccessful. They now feel there is no chance left to deliver him from his evil.
Curtis got delivered and says he’s going to abide by the rules, so I don’t have to worry about him killing me.
“I ain’t suffering for a dipshit like you,” were his choice words.
I’m supposed to believe that, like I believe Dobson is sending her demons to me for a meet and greet.
At this point, I’m too close to home to instigate any more problems. Even if I have to fake type and say nothing, I’m going to focus on this computer and forget that Curtis is eyeing me down.
I’ll just wait for Billings and concentrate my thoughts and energy on getting out of this hellhole. The door finally opened and Billings came out with my signed discharge. I’m all Dr. Haworth’s now.
My final assessment before freedom.
VIDEO LOG, JOURNAL ENTRY:
THURSDAY DECEMBER 23, 2010 – 5:13 PM
Haworth has me waiting in the conference room. He excused himself and left me with some fucked up photos of exorcisms performed at the institution.
The before and after pictures of these people is pretty astounding.
I don’t know what he’s trying to make me think. But he wants to play with my mind. I know this because the last picture I looked at is of me from a few days back. I’m in the infirmary, lying on the table. I look like pure hell. Like an animal, unshaven, eyes dilated, black, my hair matted and my mouth is bleeding.
Haworth returned with a DVD in hand and sat across from me, giving me permission to start recording this assessment.
“This is Eddie Hansen, Thursday December 23, 5:13 PM. I’m with Dr. Alan Haworth at the Uphir Asylum and I have permission to videotape this conversion as part of my unconditional discharge from this institution.”
“Health Center, Mr. Hansen. This is a Behavioral Health Center and you are correct about your release. Shall we begin?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“First, I’d like you to tell me your observation of Annette Dobson today. How did she appear to you on your visit?”
“She seems like a different person,” I said, watching Haworth jot down a response to my answer.
“Able to function in society?” he asked, still writing.
“I guess.”
“Would you say she’s rehabilitated?”
“That’s not my area of expertise. I’ll leave that to you. I’m just a reporter.”
“Well you’ve seen these pictures,” Haworth stated, sliding them back in front of me. “You’ve watched tapes, spoken to her. I’m sure you have an opinion. Do you feel that she should still be punished for her crimes?”
“I don’t have that power,” I told him, feeling the deception behind the question.
“If you did, what would you do?” Haworth asked again, prodding further.
“Why are you trying to trap me into pronouncing judgment on her?”
“You want to release your story, correct?” said Haworth as he got up and walked over to the video monitor. “And in some sense, isn’t that judgment?”
“An unbiased account. Based on facts,” I said emphatically.
“What are the facts?”
“Everything on my recordings. We’ll let people make up their own mind? She had an exorcism, she feels better. Is that what you want me to report?” I said, feeling the room begin to close in around me.
“Can you report the truth about what you’ve seen and what you are about to see?
“Yes,” I replied.
Grabbing another picture from the pile, he slid it to me asking, “What about Timothy Tyler’s condition? What do you feel about that?”
“Based on my limited encounters, I’d say he’s deranged and confused.”
“In what manner?” Haworth asked in a chilling, calm tone.
“He has no ability to distinguish reality from fantasy,” I said.
“Would you detain him here based on that assumption?”
“What are you getting at?
“Do you think he speaks from reality or fantasy?
“Fantasy.”
“Why, do you think that, Mr. Hansen?”
“I just do. There’s no consistency to his claims.”
“What claims?” Haworth asked, in an almost demanding tone.
“Nothing,” I responded. “He just rambles on about nothing. I don’t even remember half the shit he says.”
Haworth then picked up the DVD and put it into the deck. He turned on the monitor, telling me. “If you need help recalling anything, we have it recorded. Are you missing anything you’d like to remember?”
“I’m good,” I said, sensing him making his power move.
“Then may I ask about your ability, Eddie?” Haworth asked. “Do you feel you can distinguish reality from fantasy?”
“Of course?”
“Who are you?”
“Eddie Hansen.”
“Your birth date.”
“November 7
th
, 1973.”
“Where were you born?”
“San Diego, California”
“Today’s date.”
“The 23
rd.
It’s December 23
rd
“
“Of which year?”
“2010. Why are you doing this?”
“What if it wasn’t December 23
rd
? Would that alter your perception of reality?”
“No. No. Everybody gets days confused. You get busy, lose track of time. It’s normal.”
“To be confused,” Haworth stated, pushing the whole file in front of me.
“I don’t understand what you are getting at!”
“To lose track of time, not being able to distinguish reality from fantasy, unable to remember one’s actions, violent attacks on others. Does this seem like normal behavior to you?”
“No.”
“But that’s your behavior?”
“No. It’s not. I’m fine. You can’t keep me here.”
Moving back to the monitor, he said, “I’m about to show one of our tapes Mr. Hansen. Pay careful attention and tell me what you recall.”
Haworth hit play and the video began, showing security cameras from the institution.
To my shock, this video was of me sleeping in Ward C, in the room I shared with Rudy. I was twitching and groaning, as if I was having a nightmare. I looked like that picture I just saw, disheveled and sick.
Rudy walked up to my bed naked and stood over me. I remembered the tormented look on his face, but from this vantage point, I could see myself sleeping and Rudy hovering over me, growling.
Suddenly I was jarred awake, coiled my body back, and struck him with my feet, as I remembered. Then I charged at Rudy as he lay on the ground and began punching him in the face, bashing his head off the floor.
It was an incredibly violent moment I witnessed, but from a different perspective. It gave me chills to see his unconscious body lying on the ground as I continued to assault him with unmitigated rage.
I then watched myself drag Rudy’s body into the bathroom and begin to clean up all the blood. I wrapped him in a gown and carried him out the door over my shoulder.
A camera in the basement stairwell, showed me dragging his limp body across the floor.
Finally, the camera in the laundry room showed me hoisting Rudy’s motionless body into the vent area, before pushing him out the window.
I looked back at Dr. Haworth, speechless.