Why won’t you let me out? // Journal of Patient C.14, Entry #1

It was pulling her hair and she scratched her head, but she didn’t look. She didn’t believe me when I told her. I’m sorry, I really am. She just would have needed to look and it would have gone away. I didn’t want to hurt her, okay?

I need to get out. It can get in here. It always comes in when I look away. I need to look or it will come close. It can’t get close.


Doc, PLEASE LEAVE THE LIGHT ON. Why do you always turn it off? I know you say this is just for me as therapy and secret, but I know you will read it. I know you will. Please, please, PLEASE leave the lights on, okay?

Can I sleep on the corridor again? Or in a group room at least, not in this. I swear I won’t hurt anyone. I didn’t mean to hurt Jill. I really didn’t but it was pulling her hair and getting to her throat and I screamed at her, I screamed “GET AWAY!” but she just told me to calm down and it was getting at her throat and so I ran to push it off her. I didn’t mean to push her over! I’m sorry she fell. I’m really sorry. Please tell me if she is okay. I want to say sorry to her. I want to explain her that it was going to hurt her and I only wanted to save her. Please, can you tell Jill to come, and if she doesn’t want to com, can you tell her that? Please?

Can I please go out again? I need to be with people. I can’t be alone. It only comes back when no one is looking and I can’t always look. Doc, sometimes I’m tired and then it gets closer. That’s why I scream, to keep myself awake. It’s not pain or to hurt you, I’m sorry. I just know what it can do. It can hurt us and right now it’s on to me, but I can’t give up because if it gets me and I’m gone then it will just turn to somebody else and I can’t let that happen, okay?

And doc, please, can you check on my daughter? Please, I beg you. Tell me how she is. Andy won’t let me see her again and he doesn’t answer to my letters. I just want to see a picture of her and know whether she is okay, okay?

It’s been two years. Please, please, I can’t stand this.

Do you even send my letters? DO YOU? Maybe that’s why Andy doesn’t respond, he never gets them. Or maybe you keep those letters and you read them or you give it the letters. Please don’t give it the letters. It can’t know I love my daughter. Don’t let it see her, okay? Don’t show it the pictures. It doesn’t know that I have a daughter; it can’t know, I always stayed away from her when it was there, even when she was crying, I just turned the music really loud so that it wouldn’t hear her, okay?

I’m not a bad mother. Please, doc, please, please, I’m not a bad mother. I love my daughter. Andy knows that, I really hope he does. I know he meant well when he brought me here, but PLEASE tell him I want to see my daughter. Just a phone call, or a photo, something, please! But make it with other people in the room so it can’t be there, okay? It can’t see her.

I have to write about something else now. It’s on the chair now. I can’t let it watch what I write, it can’t know that, okay? So I’m going to write about therapy now. It’s going well, I think. But the medicine makes me tired and I can’t focus anymore and when I can’t focus then it comes closer.

I can feel the cold, it’s that close. It’s that close, just watching me and waiting for me to close my eyes or look away too long. I might have to call the nurse again so it goes away, okay? But the last time one of them shouted at me for it. She said I should only call her for urgent things, like, when I have an episode. And because she was shouting it didn’t even go away, it just sat back in the corner and it grinned while she was shouting and it laughed. Its mouth looks so huge when it laughs because it doesn’t have teeth. It probably uses its claws to rip things off it wants to eat. And it likes to scratch on the walls with them and it scratches against the end of my bed when the light is out. That’s why I don’t want it off, okay? I told you that. It makes it worse. PLEASE DON’T TURN THE LIGHT OUT, PLEASE! I promise I will try to sleep when it goes away, but please please keep it on, okay?

And can you ask Andy and tell him I asked for a new bed? One made from wood because it doesn’t like wood. I’m sure he would pay for it. He knows I’m not just imagining all this; I know he says he can’t see it, but he too felt it, like when we were in the bed with our daughter between us and it was standing at the end of the bed and he said it suddenly felt cold. I told him that that’s because it is there and he didn’t want to believe me and so we had another fight. But he knows it. He knows it. We’ve been together for so long; he knows I would never lie to him. He will pay the bed, I’m sure of it. If you don’t allow me to leave, maybe he can at least ask for disability allowance for me and he can use that for the bed. I think he has power over my bank account, or maybe my mother, but I hope it’s Andy.

I didn’t look. I didn’t look. I DIDN’T LOOK!

It’s sitting on my legs now. I can feel the cold even through the blanket. It’s trying to turn the laptop. It feels so heavy, it’s hurting my legs. And it’s slowly stretching its hand to the laptop. It always does things slowly when I look, I think it thinks I won’t see it.

I have to shout for the nurse now. I’m sorry, okay? Please don’t shout at me. But it’s trying to read this.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.