Disclaimer: Yaddah yaddah yaddah. Look, do you want Justin's shower scene or not!
Psychiatrists notes - Bree Van Der Kamp
I can sincerely say I have not had an experience like that in all my years as a psychiatrist, and it will undoubtedly only serve to back up my theories on Mrs Van Der Kamp. Shocking and dangerous though it was, it was one of the highlights of my career, and it is with a feeling of elation that I even write about it. Although I perhaps overstep myself. I'll recount the tale, for any who read these notes.
Before my session with Bree, I set up a video camera, along with the usual tape recording of the interview. I'm unsure why, if she had found out there would have been lawsuits about invasion of privacy etc, but I somehow knew that my plan to get through Bree's shell would work. Don't ask me how, maybe this is just assigning emotions in retrospect. But I think I did.
She arrived, and I begun the interview normally, asking about her daily life, and her children. Effectively what we talk about anyway...
Andrew and Danielle? You know what children are like, Dr Goldsmith. Some days I just despair about what my son decides to wear. What I wouldn't give for a return to the days when I could dress him in a nice suit. And comb those tangles out of that hair! But he just doesn't want to. Boys will be boys, I suppose. And what about your children?
I don't have any children, Mrs Van Der Kamp. We've discussed this before.
Oh yes. Of course.
Do you remember our other sessions, Bree?
Why, of course I do, Doctor! I'm just a little tense today. You know how children are.
No. I don't.
It went the same way as all our other interviews have gone, although this time I tried to play along generally, avoiding the triggers I mentioned last time. I lulled her into a false sense of security, I believe, which made it much easier for me to put the next part of my plan into action. I'm still unsure about the levels of consciousness Bree has, and whether, to some degree, part of her realised what I was trying to do, and allowed it, maybe even helped me. In the end, of course, both of us were thwarted by what I have named 'Id'. But everything in good time. I began to test my theory...
Bree, I want to talk about Rex. Your husband. Do you remember your husband?
Yes, I remember my husband. I did see him only this morning, Doctor. Have I told you what my husband does, Doctor? He's a doctor too! Not the same kind as you, he's a proper doctor. You must move in the same circles. Have you ever heard of him?
Bree, do you know where your husband is?
Yes, at work. Dear me, doctor, if all we're going to do is make small talk I really don't think that you should be charging quite what you are at the moment.
Your husband is dead. He has been for almost two months.
Bree? Can you hear me? Your husband is dead.
An impartial observer may say my treatment of Bree was cruel, harsh, perhaps even in the extreme. And looking back, I'd be tempted to agree with them. Never before in my sessions with Bree had I forced her to face the truth about her husbands demise. I know, from re-reading my notes, that I had said it was at first because she was too fragile, but then I simply discounted it. I now realise that I didn't want to hurt her. A perfectly acceptable trait in a human being, one might say, but I suspect now I was being too kind. I had to take a hard-nosed approach, as it appeared to be the only way that I was going to get through to Bree. What happened next proved just how far I got through...
Doctor. Help me.
Bree?
I don't want to face it, I can't face it, don't make me face it, but I have to. If I don't face it, I can't stop what I see-
Bree? Bree?
-It's like a mask, you're like a mask, but I'm protecting you, you need me, I don't need you, I need my life back-
Sandy, call 911.
-stop it! Get out of me! You'll wake him, what are you doing, don't Bree, let me back, I'll protect us both, I'll hide us-
Bree, listen to me. What are you stuck in? I want to talk to Bree. Where is she?
-doctor, help me, I don't have long-
Is it really you Bree? This isn't the mask?
-It's me, it's me, I need help, but not from you, there's someone, you can help him-
What?
Ridiculously, at this point, I almost thought she was seeing another psychiatrist.
-Help him, he can get me out-
Why can I not help you?
-I can trust him not to use this against me, I can talk to him and no-one else, not even you, doctor, because-
Does this man-
-boy-
-boy exist, Bree? Is he real?
-he's real, I know he's real I've seen him, I've talked to him, help him, however you can, but don't try yourself, or I'll never escape the shame, I can trust him, I have a hold over him, I know things, it's coming back doctor, no, no, he's coming, it warned me, it did, I did, I told you, and now he's awake, and he's coming-
The rest of the tape consists of a scream, before it cut out. The sofa did land on it, I suppose. I was lucky to retrieve the tape intact up to that point. However, the video recorder concealed in the bookcase caught the rest, and I was shocked by some of the footage that it managed to film.
Bree flings the doctor off with ease, and leaps to her feet. She turns to the camera momentarily, and shows that her face has changed. Rather than being the polite mask of the personality called 'It', or being the scared, manic one we've come to associate with 'Bree' herself, this one is more terrifying. It seems to be expressionless, but at the same time it is screaming loudly, keeningly, and the eyes are wide.
She picks up the end of the couch and throws it over the table. There is a crunch as it collapses, and the doctor looks horrified as he sees his beloved tape recorder has been crushed, before he blacks out. Bree flings herself at him, but as she does a man and a woman burst in. The woman covers her mouth with her hands as she beholds Bree, but the man reacts quicker. Grabbing Bree around the waist, he spins her around, away from the doctor, and pins her against the wall. She reaches out and claws down his face, leaving four vertical scratches, but he holds on. Suddenly, she goes limp, and the man is able to lay her down. The man tells the woman to go and call an ambulance, and she leaves. The man starts to tend to the doctor.
It was lucky that my next appointment had been with James 'Rocky' McAnvin, to try and solve his violent tendancies. I personally saw it as a very good field test, as he was able to contain any desire to punch the living daylights out of Mrs Van Der Kamp, whilst still being able to take the punishment, his talent for which he was given the name 'Rocky'. He's now doing very well.
However, he is not our concern here. Bree was taken to A&E, along with me, and she woke up later with no recollection of the events. I suspect that next time I see her she will have blanked out even her awakening in hospital, instead choosing to believe she spent the afternoon making her beds. I'm going to allow 'It' time to recover, and to recompose myself as well. I took a nasty bump to the head when 'Id' threw me across the room. From my experience, I've defined at least two alternate personalities. One seems to refer to itself as 'It', and I've decided to call it that too. The other one was only named as 'him', or 'he' as the other two characters, and 'he' didn't give himself a name when he was dominant. I've decided to call him 'Id' as stated above, the embodiment of the baser urges of human nature. I think it's fitting.
As for this 'boy' Bree spoke of, it would appear at first that he doesn't exist. I have a feeling, however, somehow, that I'll be hearing something more of him. Somehow, he's a very important piece of this jigsaw.
Damn! I lied about Justin featuring, didn't I? Alright, I promise excessive Justin in the next one, okay? Seriously this time. This thing just surprised me by coming out of effectively nothing. I hadn't been planning to write this until about chapter seven! Gasp, ahead of myself a bit! Anyway, sorry about the lack of entertainment in this one. I had to be serious for once.
I'm going out tomorrow. With a BOY! EEEEEEEEEE!