Psychosomatics
by Dean Carroll
It was a warm day
in the town of Hickstead, and Kevin McCloud cycled home from his job
at the local factory. It was Friday and he had the whole weekend to
look forward to.
Arriving home he
kissed his mum who was busy watching the news, and ran upstairs
stripped off and had a shower, the days grime running off his body.
At nineteen Kevin
lived for the weekend, the dance culture was in his blood. He always
liked to dabble, to keep him going. A bit of whizz or an E was his
idea of a good time and he would then go to his mates house for a
smoke to bring him down, and help him sleep.
Coming out of the
shower, he dressed in his best Armani shirt and jeans and generously
sprayed himself with Lynx before going downstairs, where his mum was
cooking tea in the kitchen.
"What's for
scran?" asked Kevin as he pulled a bottle of Budweiser out of the
fridge and prising the cap off with his teeth.
Kevin's mum
looked at him disconcertedly "Don't blame me when your teeth need
filling" she said shaking her head, while putting a dish of cottage
pie in the oven.
Kevin grinned while
quaffing his lager. "I always fancied a set of crowns like Goldie"
he said flippantly while going into the living room, where his dad
was quietly reading the evening paper.
Kevin slumped down
on the sofa watching the telly thinking of the night in front of him.
Kevin's dad looked at him casually before returning to his paper.
"So you're out
on the town tonight" murmured his father while staring at the news.
"Yeah!" said
Kevin upbeat "It should be a good night."
"Well stay off
the wacky baccy and the pills, just stick to the beer son" he said.
Kevin nodded his
head, unwilling to let him know of what he got up to.
Having married
late, Greg and Jane McCloud had only one sibling and they doted on
their boy. Kevin was bullied at school and spent a large part of his
school days truanting, afraid to attend. When he was old enough to
leave he went straight into the local clothes factory where he had a
packing job.
At half past six
the phone rang, dashing from the sofa Kevin picked up the receiver.
His mate Carl was on the other line.
"How's it going
Kev?" Carl asked sounding upbeat, a posse of giggling friends
around the phone. Kevin closed the living room door.
"Sounds like the
parties just started on your end." said Kevin.
"Yeah I just
bought some speed, top notch, Pink Champagne. I'm totally out of my
face" said Carl.
"Well make sure
you leave me some" said Kevin "I want to be off my box tonight."
"How much do you
want?"
Kevin counted his
money from his pocket.
"An ounce will do
me" said Kevin 'whispered Kevin.
Carl told him to
meet him at his local at seven O'clock. Looking at his watch it was
nearly half past six. With his food steaming on the kitchen table, he
wolfed it down and ten minutes later he kissed his mum and was out of
the house.
It was a ten minute
walk to the Dog and Fox, an old run down pub on the estate. Inside he
found all the old regulars on their seats snuggled up to their pints,
one regular was busy putting all his wages in the fruit machine.
In the corner he
found Carl and a couple of mates playing pool, their faces pasty
looking and their eyes open like saucers, their jaws grinding
together, associated with taking amphetamine. Kevin went to the bar
and ordered a pint.
Holding a pint of
Stella, Kevin was introduced to Carl's mates Ben and Tony who shook
hands briskly with Kevin. They were both in Carl's class at college
where they were studying Joinery.
While Ben and Tony
played on the pool table, Kevin followed Carl into the toilets.
With the lavatory
empty Carl gave Kevin two small wraps which Kevin paid for, before
entering one of the cubicles. While Carl re-entered the pub, Kevin
dropped the toilet lid and sat on it backwards so he was facing the
cistern. He then uncoiled one of the wraps and sprinkled the speed on
the water tank. The pink crystals gleamed like diamonds. His
anticipation increasing he separated the amphetamine into two lines
before taking a twenty pound note from his pocket.
Rolling the note
into a cylinder, he inserted it into a nostril and snorted a line.
Instantly he felt
the insides of his nose itch and felt an acrid taste at the back of
his mouth as the amphetamine melted down his throat. He repeated it
with the other line and felt instantly wired, his facial muscles
throbbing with the effects. He even felt randy.
When Kevin
re-entered the pub, Carl and his mates had finished their drinks and
were ready to leave. Taking a large quaff of his lager, Kevin left
the rest of the pint on the bar, and left.
The four of them
ordered a taxi to take them into town. They were going to a club
called Karaties in the town centre. Originally a martial arts gym,
the hall was taken over and converted into a nightclub, and proved
especially popular with students.
While they waited
in the queue the four of them chain smoked, the speed and
anticipation of the night keeping them on edge. Kevin could smell
skunkweed in the queue and was becoming high on the fumes.
Kevin and Carl
regularly went to Karaties because Carl was on speaking terms with
the head doorman who let anyone bring stuff in, providing they slip
him a tenner for the favour.
"Hi Ray!" said
Carl to the doorman casually as the four of them slipped him each a
ten pound note and were allowed through. Once inside they had to fork
out another twenty quid admission fee and a fiver for the cloakroom
on top of that.
Once inside, the
four of them made their way to the bar, where a team of harassed club
staff, constantly dealt with the demands by the guests, trying
desperately to hear their drink orders over the pounding techno
music.
After a twenty
minute wait the four of them got served and were swigging cans of Red
Bull the caffeine giving the whizz an edge, they then made their way
to the dance floor that was covered in a layer of dry ice, that the
strobes and lighting barely penetrated. Kevin felt like he was in
another world, the floor full of people having a good time, the scent
of hormones seemed to fill the air, the E in everyone's bodies
seemed to fill his senses.
After an hour's
hard dancing Kevin approached Carl and said he was taking his second
hit, giving him the thumbs up, Kevin made his way to the toilets,
through a sea of gurning and grinning faces.
In the toilets the
sinks were crowded with revellers filling their bottles with water,
to avoid paying the astronomical prices at the bar. Finding a cubicle
that was empty he occupied it and took out his wrap. Settling on the
toilet bowl he poured the crystal amphetamine on the water tank and
with his bank card he made two lines and snorted the larger of the
two.
In an instant,
together with drinking the red bull and the speed he had used before
that, he felt his mind flip, he felt like he was being watched.
Feeling panicky he
stared at the cubicle walls. Tiny cameras were filming what he was
doing through little holes. Desperate to get away he hid his face and
ran out of the toilet thinking MI5 were watching him. In desperation
he ran through the mass of dancers and out of the club.
Outside was no
better, he could see Asian taxi drivers lined up along a kerb.
Thinking they were Taliban agents he snuck into a back alley to avoid
them.
Down the alley he
saw an old bloke searching through a bin outside a restaurant.
Creeping past him to avoid any confrontation the beggar saw him and
accosted Kevin for change.
"Ave ya got a
quid ta spare" said the beggar drunkenly catching Kevin by the
shirt. Kevin nervously shook his head and tried to get away, feeling
nauseated with the smell of the man's breath and the smell of decay
in his clothes.
"I've got nowt"
pleaded Kevin, desperate to flee. The man turned on Kevin going
through Kevin's pockets, Kevin pushed the man who went flying into
some rubbish. He took his opportunity and ran for his life.
"You're going
to hell, wait and see" shouted the drunken beggar as Kevin ran off,
desperate to get away.
Kevin dishevelled
and terrified, passed a series of bars where the drinkers merrily
enjoyed themselves, a clear contrast on Kevin's plight.
Passing a doorway
he saw a piece of paper on the floor containing dates and letters.
Examining it carefully he found letters corresponding to dates.
To a clear thinking
individual it was just a simple rota, but to Kevin the piece of paper
was damning evidence. He realised that the letters were connected to
slow acting poisons that were being secretly placed in his food. No
wonder he was so terrified. There was a conspiracy taking place
involving his parents, in a plot to kill him, and someone had left
the note there to warn him. He kept the note in his pocket, and ran
for help.
Kevin ran through a
warren of streets and alleyways to find the nearest police station.
Voices appeared in his head some taunting, some assisting, his brain
had turned into a radio receiver.
Running into the
town centre he saw a group of Police Officers arresting a drunk.
Approaching them, some of the voices told him to flee, but he needed
to tell someone.
Desperate he went
up to one of the officers and shown him the sheet of paper. "This
is what my so called loving mother is sticking in my food" he said
aggressively.
The police officer
looked at him puzzled and told Kevin to go home, Kevin wanted to
convince him.
"My mother is
trying to kill me you thick headed pig" he shouted. The police
officer took note of Kevin and sternly warned him, two other officers
approached Kevin.
Noticing his
bloodshot eyes and dishevelled clothes, the officer asked Kevin if he
was carrying any drugs, Kevin felt ready to snap.
"Look at it, you
thick bastard." He shouted showing the officer the paper. The
policemen had heard enough and handcuffed Kevin for a breach of the
peace.
Reading him his
rites, the officer dragged Kevin into the van.
Kevin was left in
darkness, cold and terrified. All he could hear was the sound of the
drunk kicking at the door inside the van and the jabbering voices in
his head. He could hear his mother's voice begging for forgiveness
but he told her to get out of his mind. Desperately he punched at his
head, wanting to displace the voices, but they cynically laughed at
his plight.
The Black Maria
eventually stopped and a group of officers lined the back of the van.
The drunk was taken out kicking and screaming, shouting obscenities
at the cops. Kevin was taken out terrified and delusional, unsure of
where he was.
Escorted into the
charge room Kevin was left in a chair while they dealt with the
drunk, who spat in the face of the sergeant. Wrestling the assailant
to the floor, he was taken away by four officers two carrying his
legs to the cells, the sergeant clearly incensed called Kevin to the
desk.
"What's your
name?" barked the sergeant, wiping the spittle from his face.
Kevin clearly gave
his name and handed him the paper. Examining it, Kevin gave details
of what it represented. The sergeant frowned at Kevin.
"Do you take
drugs Kevin?" he asked calmly.
"I just took a
bit of speed a few hours ago." Kevin admitted.
"Do you take it a
lot?" said the sergeant getting to the heart of the problem.
"I take it now
and again but I've been fine, it's the poisons in my body that's
doing the damage" explained Kevin.
The sergeant smiled
flatly and told one of the custody officers to take Kevin to a cell.
Kevin was deprived of his trainers and belt before he was locked in,
with just a toilet and a mat for company.
He sat there for an
hour, the voices talking to him, until an elderly man carrying a
briefcase entered the cell. The man looked down at the dishevelled
appearance of Kevin before offering his hand.
"I'm Doctor
Barber" smiled the man, sitting alongside Kevin.
He sized up the
man. Dressed in an old tweed suit he looked unofficial enough, not to
be a secret agent. Barber took down his details, and asked him what
was going on in his head. After taking down a list of details, the
doctor left, and Kevin was given something to drink and eat.
He suspected
poisons were placed in his food, so he refrained from eating it.
Instead he endured the hunger pangs and a strong need for a
cigarette.
A police officer
opened his cell half an hour later, shaking his head at the discarded
food. While he cleared it away, Kevin asked him for the time.
"You've been
here a while sonny, haven't you!" said the copper looking at his
watch. "It's nearly half one in the morning," the copper
answered, locking the door.
Kevin was mystified
how the time had passed. Going into the club with Carl and his mates
seemed an eternity ago, and now he was in his cell with his
telepathic friends for company. He could hear Carl's voice in his
head telling him to refuse any treatment because they would attempt
to poison him with cyanide pills; and to avoid the food because they
put contaminants in it to control the patients, Kevin heeded Carl's
advice and vowed to remain strong.
An hour later a
dour looking woman dressed in an ankle length skirt and bomber jacket
entered the cell with two police officers, either side of her.
"Kevin we're
taking you to Hickstead Psychiatric hospital under section two of the
Mental Health act" said the social worker rather officiously. The
two burly officers handcuffed Kevin and took him out of the police
station to a waiting van.
Climbing inside
Kevin wondered what he was going to hospital for. His voices told him
to keep quiet. Kevin knew he was in safe hands with his voices.
At the hospital
Kevin was escorted into the psychiatric department, a manic smile on
his face. At the door to the ward, a middle aged afro-caribbean man
operated the security door to allow access.
Inside Kevin
surveyed the surroundings. There were bare tiles on the floor and
punch marks spattered the wall. There was also a nauseating odour of
sweaty feet and unwashed bodies, and a strong smell of industrial
bleach. While Kevin surveyed the ward, the handcuffs were taken off
him and he was led him into an office with Doctor Barber accompanying
him. Inside Kevin froze steadfast.
Inside sat Kevin's
parents.
His mother clearly
flummoxed at what had happened to her son went to embrace him, Kevin
stepped back.
"Keep away from
me, the secret's out now. The police know you've been poisoning
my food" Kevin shouted.
Jane was taken
aback her eyes raw with tears. "What do you mean pois...?."
"It's all on
the list mother" Kevin interrupted her "Dates and everything, all
the secret letterings for the chemicals" it's all there."
barked Kevin
Jane McCloud turned
to her husband "Have a word with him Greg, he's frightening me"
she sobbed. Greg told his son to calm down.
"Calm down! calm
down!" he ranted "She's been trying to kill me dad, she's
colluding with the C.I.A, putting chemicals in my meals, now the
secrets out, I want her away from me" he spat.
Jane sank into
Greg's arms terrified their happy go lucky son had turned psychotic
within a space of hours. Unable to take no more she sobbed in her
husband's embrace and was escorted out of the room.
Doctor Barber
remained in the room with three orderlies who looked with concern at
Kevin, who grinded his teeth, standing up shadow boxing, his mind
full of hateful aggression.
"Perhaps if you
take some medication, you might calm down a bit" suggested Barber
smiling thinly at Kevin.
Kevin looked at
Barber with hate "You trying to poison me with shit. I'm taking
no fuckin tablets" shouted Kevin.
. Barber put his hand
up to pacify him.
At this time all
the other patients were awoken by all the commotion, and thronged the
corridor demanding to know what all the noise was, the orderlies
escorted them all back to bed.
"Why won't you
take some medication Kevin" asked Barber.
"Carl told me not
to." Said Kevin clearly irritated.
"Who's Carl?"
asked Barber taking notes
Kevin carried on
punching at thin air "He told me not to take anything I can hear
his voice telling me inside me head" shouted Kevin.
Barber finished
taking notes and sat calmly staring at Kevin "Do these voices
irritate you Kevin?"
"I feel like a
radio receiver" admitted Kevin.
"What do you
mean?" asked Barber.
"I feel like all
my senses are wired up I can see, hear even taste things more boldly.
I feel like I'm a robot receiving information" said Kevin.
"And do you like
this feeling Kevin"
"I feel on edge"
he replied hyped up.
"And do you think
a bit of medication would help?" Doctor Barber asked
"I suppose"
admitted Kevin
Kevin aggression
began to ease. One of the nurses went to the pharmaceutical cabinet
with a medication sheet, hastily drawn up by Barber.
In the meds room,
he saw the nurse open a white rectangular box with the name Zyprexa
on the front. The nurse explained that the Olanzapine would help with
the voices, and his concentration would improve.
Kevin was also
prescribed Temazapan to help him sleep. Tentatively he took the
medication, and was told to go to bed.
Escorted to his
room, tired and exhausted, Kevin threw himself on his bed his brain
feeling fried, the voices starting to quieten down with sleep. He
would wake up in new surroundings, on a long arduous journey to
regaining his mental health.
THE
END
|