Psychosomatics

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

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