The Secrets You Hide: A Mind-Blowing Thriller (The Psychosis Series) (12 page)

I heard a click and the bulb came to life along with four identical bulbs which were fixed to different corners of the room.

“…in our minds...we are infinite...in all directions.”

I brought my right hand up to my eyes just to protect them from the sudden burst of light. But as my eyes adjusted, I first looked down at the floor.

I felt a sudden jerk as I realized where I was standing. I looked up at the walls of the room one by one. Shining new mirrors covered every surface around us including the ceiling and the floor. Even the door that we had walked through had a mirror fixed to it on the inside, completing what was a room made purely of mirrors. I stared at the floor once again, stunned by its infinite depth and strangely intrigued by my own reflections looking at and away from me alternatingly as I looked down at them.

“We are infinite in all directions...just like our reflections in this room,” Jack continued. “We are limited only by how far our eyes can see.”

I turned my head up to look him in the eyes. He returned the gesture. Pairs of reflections of both of us were engaged in a similar gesture on every mirror of that room.

“I hope that you will see me for all I am doctor...here...I hope we will see each other to the maximum possible depth of our personalities.”

He got out of his overcoat and hung in on the armrest of the chair which was on the farther side of the room, away from the door.

Then he sat down on that chair, momentarily looking up at the bulb suspended in the centre of the room. I took a few steps around the room, just to orient myself and then walked to the other chair opposite Jack.

“Time is running out, doctor,” he said.

“I agree,” I said, before sitting down.

“Jack, before I start, I need to make sure that the rules here are very clear. Can we do that, Jack?”

He nodded. I nodded back in acknowledgement.

“Jack, I just want to make sure that both of us listen to each other in full. I want to make sure you listen carefully to every word I speak, not interrupting and not reacting till I am done. And I will return you the favor. Is that fair to expect?”

“That’s fair, doctor.”

“Then we should start. Should I go first?”

“Yes, you should.”

I bent forward in my chair trying to focus his attention on myself and everything I was about to say. I chose to be as direct as possible while trying to make sure that he did not over-react. “Jack, I wanted to tell you that...you are sick...you are unwell, Jack. A lot of things you are doing here...a lot of things you have been doing...they have been out of your control, haven’t they? You know that some of the actions you have taken are wrong and yet you cannot stop. You are feeling compelled to do all of this...to act this way. You are obsessed with seeing this story through, aren’t you Jack?”

For a second all expression washed out of his face. Then he squinted his eyes ever so slightly. I continued.

“This disease…it progresses slowly Jack, almost unnoticeable at first because it feels natural...like it is a part of you...a part of who you are. It forces you to believe that you need to do certain things, follow specific rituals, and take certain actions. It creates obsessions in your mind, Jack. It creates thoughts and feelings and ideas which keep repeating in an unending loop till you do something specific to make it all stop. Actions like telling a story or organizing things in a specific manner or telling people to use a pen in a particular way. These obsessions…they may seem harmless at first, Jack, but they keep getting stronger and stronger till they start controlling you.

“There is a name for this disease, Jack. It’s called Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder or OCD. Have you heard of it, Jack? Do you understand what it is?”

Still, no response. I waited in doubt, unsure if I was even getting through. Jack turned to his left to look at the mirrored wall. I followed his gaze. I found his reflection in the mirror staring at me and an alternating series of infinite reflections behind it doing the same. I knew that he was experiencing the exact opposite from where he was sitting–infinite reflections of me were looking back at and away from him. It felt strange, as if somehow, he was hiding behind the mirror, successfully shielding himself from everything I was saying. I looked back at his face, refusing to engage in his trickery.

He finally looked back at me, ready with a response.

“You blame me of being blinded by my obsessions. But…but isn’t that true for you too? Aren’t you obsessed with a few things yourself, doctor?

“You have built your entire life trying to hide from the truth of your past. You have done everything you can to keep your family isolated from the darkness within you…to keep them away from your worst. Isn’t that obsession?

“You called me a man of many obsessions, doctor. That’s specific because I believe it describes me well. But do you know why it is also vague?”

I said nothing. His eyes were locked with mine.

“It is vague because it describes everybody I know. Even you.”

“Think of the things that people are obsessed with, doctor. Making money, finding love, being successful, living forever, exploring the world, keeping secrets…freedom, democracy, power, religion, food, alcohol…it’s a…it’s a never ending list.

“Isn’t everybody obsessed with trying to control other people's lives? Don't we all try to do it? Parents to their children? Lovers to each other? We bind ourselves in social customs, rules, taboos, laws and we try to ignore how this world is going haywire. We bend the rules when no one is watching and then we go out in the open and act like we are conformists bending to the whims of others. Aren't we all obsessed with fitting in?”

I blinked. He stood up.

“I am tempted to ask, doctor. Does that make me much different from you? Does that make me any different from all the people outside this room?”

I processed everything had had said, trying to rebut him with a structured response.

“You are right Jack. Everybody is obsessed…but there is a subtle difference between everybody and you, isn't there?

“Most people can control their obsessions. They can switch it on and off when they want to…when they need to. They can see when it pushes them to the brink of doing something harsh and hurtful. And they can make it go away…they can make it stop. They can control their obsessions, Jack. But can you?”

He said nothing, still continuing to look at me.

“In your case, Jack, the obsessions control you…don’t they?

Silence.

“Step away from this, Jack. Step away from this…this denial. Detach yourself from this flood of emotions, Jack. Look at your reality. Look at the secrets your mind has been hiding all this time. Look at the truth which has been before your eyes, waiting to be identified.”

Our bodies were motionless and our eyes unblinking.

He sat back down. “Doctor, it feels like we have reached a point in our argument where we will just have to agree to disagree. I wonder if this conversation is going to take us anywhere.”

“Jack, we need to talk this through. We cannot just leave it at this.”

Another long pause. I suddenly felt self-conscious and drew my hands and legs towards my body. I sat back in my chair assuming the same posture as Jack.

“Do you understand how obsessions originate, doctor?” he asked.

I shook my head. “They just do, Jack. They reflect the fears and emotions that influence us deeply. Sometimes the ones we are not consciously aware of.”

He looked away into a corner of the room.

“I think obsessions have their origin in…incomplete knowledge, doctor. That feeling of knowing something well…just not well enough. That uncertainty about how things are going to evolve and change. All that…combined with our survival instinct. Survival is humanity’s most fundamental obsession if you think about it, isn’t it?”

He looked at me. I did not budge.

“It is that uncertainty which gets us hooked to ideas and things and…people. Sometimes we get obsessed with learning something new because it intrigues us…the not knowing…but once we start to break it down into its constituent parts, we see how unsophisticated it is…how beneath all that magic and all that intrigue…what you have is a bunch of rudimentary parts. And suddenly, we lose interest…we aren’t obsessed anymore.”

He turned to the mirrored walls to his left.

“When we walked into this room, doctor, I told you how it is impossible to really know anyone. We might be limited by our bodies…but in our minds we are infinite…constantly changing.”

He looked up at the ceiling and I followed. I saw a series of alternating reflections of him looking at me and away from me. I looked down at the floor and found an exact replica of what I had seen in the mirror above.

“That only means one thing. Any romance…any love affair is based on a simple state of the human mind…a simple state which is simultaneously dangerous and enjoyable…a state of mind which you might call an obsession.”

“Love,” he paused for a few long moments, “Love is an obsession.”

I kept calm, watching him slip away into the maze that he was creating for himself.

“Think about it, doctor,” he said. “What happens when you are in love with someone?

“You crave their company. You hear their voice in your ears, you see their image in your eyes even when they are nowhere close by. You do your best to know them inside out…even when you know that you can’t know them in full. You might know them very well…but it will never be enough. The truth is…you do not want to know them completely. You want them to keep secrets. You want them to keep you guessing about what they are thinking…about what is going on in their mind…about what they want. Because that keeps your obsession alive. It keeps you hooked. That feeling of not knowing…that incomplete knowledge.”

I shook my head, finally deciding to interrupt him. “How does any of this matter, Jack? How does it help?”

“It matters, doctor” he snapped back. “Because once you understand how obsessions originate you start to respect the fact that none of us is immune to it. In fact, obsessions are essential to keep us alive…to keep our minds occupied, focused.”

I watched him and felt all hope of bringing him around fade away. He was blinded by the disease. He was blinded by the need to rationalize and believe that everything he was doing was normal. I knew then…that no further logical argument was going to work. I would have to go deeper, get under his skin. I would have to make emotional arguments to shock him out of the shell that he had created for himself. And if that did not work…it would all come down to a physical struggle and I hoped to be able to stop him from hurting anyone–including, potentially, himself.

“Jack…I promised you at the start of this conversation that...that I would not pretend or hide anything from you. And I am sorry, Jack, but now I have to tell you the truth…how much ever it might hurt.”

He looked confused, clearly unaware of what I was talking about. “What more do you have to say, doctor? What truth are you talking about?”

“It’s about your wife, Jack. It’s about Catherine.”

I saw, in his face, what looked like a glimmer of happiness. It felt like the mention of Catherine’s name somehow filled him with the hope that everything could go back to normal. But it couldn’t–he knew it and I knew it. We were way past normal. Now, it was all about controlling the damage.

“I want to ask you some questions, Jack. Just yes or no questions. Nothing complicated. I want you to answer honestly, Jack. No more pretence. No more lying.”

“I will try,” he said, “I will try.”

“Jack, do you understand that what you are doing is wrong? Do you know that threatening lives for the purpose of…finishing a story is wrong…inhuman?”

He said nothing. “I will take that as a yes, Jack. Until I hear you disagree.”

He kept quiet in silent agreement.

“This disease I was mentioning…OCD…you must have started experiencing symptoms long back…One of the things you mentioned during our past conversations was your preference for order…your preference for seeing things arranged in a certain way. Since when did that preference start to feel different, Jack? Since when did it start to feel like…like anything else was just not acceptable…Since when did it become something preventing you from focusing on more critical tasks?”

No answer.

“I think it has been very long…more than a year since that has been the case, isn’t it, Jack? It began much before Catherine died. Is that right?”

I nodded. I could see the answer in his face.

“And in the clinic, you pointed out that you wanted me to use my pen in a certain manner. Have you always pointed that out to people?”

No response.

“Did it start around the same time?”

I noticed the batting of his eyelids and a hint of hesitation. Another silent yes.

“It’s easy for these things to go unnoticed, Jack. They can easily go unnoticed till they become more apparent….interfering in your daily life.”

He looked down at the floor, his face blank. I waited, wondering, for the last time, if I wanted to break the most damaging truth to him. I decided that I had given it enough and more thought already. It was time for him to know.