Chapter 2: Mark Calaway
"So, tell me your name again?" I tried my hardest not to sound too harsh and monotoned as I shifted slightly in my chair, my elbows rested on the wide, mahagony desk in front of me. The young woman sitting directly across from me seemed to mimick my movement, shifting in her chair as well as she watched me with her piercing, blue eyes. She was nothing like the other female patients I had dealt with. The ones with the twitching eyes or the strange urges to shred my curtains like rabid animals, something about her made me uncomfortable still. It was the way she carried herself. Like absolutely nothing was wrong with her. Like her mind was the safest place a man could look into and not be scarred. Like she had absolutely nothing to hide from the rest of the world. But the reality was...she did. She sat with her long, hairless legs crossed one over the other and her perfect hands were laid over her knees. Her back was almost completely straight and she held her chin up high like a princess. In fact, that was what I wanted to call her. A princess. Especially with the way her long, blonde hair fell past her shoulders in Shirley Temple spiral curls that were a bit below her age group. That was where everything that would've been normal about her turned into everything unimaginably abnormal. She wore a short royal blue dress with a little white apron tied around the skirt, high white socks, and school girl shoes with heels tall enough to stab a man through the skull. She resembled a much older Alice from a fetish convention. I assumed that was her Wonderland.
"It's Michelle." She told me in the sweetest voice I had ever heard. Sadly, sweet voices didn't effect me like they used to. Especially if I was hearing it from a patient.
I gave her a once over. She looked nothing like a 'Michelle' to me, but the name was still cute. I couldn't even crack a smile at her because if I had, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from laughing at her interesting taste in fashion. Can I just call you Dollface? "You can just call me-"
"Dr. Calaway." She completed my sentence once again in her sweetest voice which in turn, made me swallow the threat that almost came out of me.
I frowned slightly, but not enough to make her think she'd done something wrong. I mean, sure I was a bit freaked out that she knew my name like that. My name plate wasn't even on my desk that day and she'd never been here before. Ok, maybe she'll be like my other patients much later. "I was going to say you can just call me Mark." I shrugged a little, softening my gaze on her.
"It's alright." Michelle leaned forward slightly. "I like how Dr. Calaway sounds when I say it. Do you like how Dr. Calaway sounds, Dr. Calaway?"
I blinked once. "Uh, sure, I guess. But seriously, you can just call me Mark-"
She suddenly slammed her fists down on the arms of her chair, her once sweet face contorting into an expression of pure rage as she screamed at me, "But I wanna call you Dr. Calaway! That's your name isn't it!"
I sat back in my chair, a little caught off gaurd by her sudden burst of anger. "Okay, Michelle." I said quietly, hoping to calm her down with my voice. "You can call me Dr. Calaway if you want. Just...stay calm with me alright? I'm not a big fan of loud noises."
"Okay, Dr. Calaway." She was smiling at me again. Her pearly white teeth drawing my attention to her bright red lips and her blue eyes that sparkled like diamonds at me. I sighed inwardly, adjusting my belt as if somehow that would have made my balls grow back after that scare.
"Alright, Michelle, tell me what was going on when you first noticed that you were...a unique human being." I knew I had to put it in light terms for her because I didn't want her to have a fit of rage and then my life would come to an end in this office.
Michelle rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath as if she would be telling me her entire life story. "I've always had an obsession with dolls." She began.
No shit, Shirley.
"My mother bought me lots of dolls for my birthday and every Christmas, she would give me the prettiest porcelain dolls I'd ever seen. At first it was a secret. I didn't want anyone juding me at school or making fun of me because of my obsession with dolls. Especially in high school. Anyone normal would be too old for them, but I didn't think I was. I loved them too much to get too old for them. But that was before the fire happened."
I frowned, curious now. "Fire?"
"Yes." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My house burned down right before graduation. It took both my parents. My father I didn't care much about, but my mother...I didn't know what to do with myself after I realized she was gone."
"Why didn't you care about your father?"
"He was drunk every night. Came home abusing both me and my mom. Sometimes, when I was a little girl, he would tie us both up in the living room and have his way with us. He would do things to us I'd rather not talk about."
"You don't have to if you don't want to."
"My mother meant the world to me. She comforted me whenever my dad tried to beat me for making bad grades. And she always told me I was her perfect, little angel. The only reason why I survived that fire is because I wasn't there until it completely destroyed our house. I was on my way back from school actually. And when I saw it I...lost my mind. The only thing the fire department could salvage was...this." My eyes almost went wide as, seemingly out of nowhere, she lifted up a doll in her right hand. It looked just like her. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A royal blue dress with black school shoes. The only difference was that the doll had a large crack going down one side of her head, splitting through her left eye. Patches of her hair were missing and parts of her silk dress were burned away. I blinked several times at the doll, trying to figure out where it had come from.
"My grandparents took me into their home and I had nothing left but this doll. I named her Maddy. That's short for Madeline. I wanted to be like her because...well...she's perfect." I noticed that her bottom lip began to tremble and her face was growing a bit red. She stroked the doll's patchy, mangled hair as she sniffled softly. "She's perfect, Dr. Calaway. Don't you see? I wanna be perfect like her for Mother!" Tears began to fall at that moment and I had to take a deep breath to calm my own emotions. I never felt sorrow when my patients did, I just felt angry because I hated emotions. Especially with women. They drove me insane. Literally.
"So is that why you dress like this?"
"Yes. I want to be my Mother's perfect little angel so she can smile at me every time she sees me from that knarly place in the sky." She smiled weakly through her tears and I almost smiled back because for a second, she looked absolutely adorable. Like an innocent little porcelain doll that'd been broken beyond repair. She hugged the doll to her chest and propped her feet up in the chair like an abandoned child. A child in an adult's body. She began to sob right after she smiled at me and sadly, I felt nothing for her. But at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to help her. I wanted to adopt her, as strange as that may sound.
It was beyond-strange people like her that I chose to adopt. Never the 'normal crazy ones.' People who seemed completely out of the category of 'ordinary'. In my eyes, she most definitely belonged in the Madhouse. "Michelle?" I spoke calmly, sitting forward onto my desk. "Michelle, look at me and stop crying. Right now." I sounded like a controlling father no matter how hard I tried not to. She looked up at me with broken eyes, not a single hint of anger in those blue orbs that would set me off inside. "Michelle, can I tell you something? You don't belong in this office right now, you know that?"
She sniffled, frowning at me as if I had told her the toothfairy was real. "W-what do you mean, Dr. Calaway?" She asked in a childish voice.
I stood up from my chair, hearing a few bones pop in my back. Damn, was I getting old? I kept my eyes on her as I walked around to the front of the desk and sat down in front of her, folding my arms across my chest. She looked up at me like a kicked puppy, her eyes large and so full of pain. All of it had come so quickly and so suddenly. "I do a little more than my description foretells." I began to explain. "Y'see, long ago I was given a sign that, uh," I looked off for a second a shrugged. "I guess made me somewhat of a good Samaritan. I decided people like you deserved more than just an appointment in my office. People like you are alone in the world. I know how that feels. Believe it or not, Michelle, I'm just like you."
"What?" She whispered. "You're nothing like me. There's nobody like me!" She raised her voice again. "I'm a fucking lost cause! You can never be like me!"
"Listen, Michelle." I spoke louder to overpower her and she was obivously a bit startled by the depth and huskiness of my voice. "I don't collect dolls or anything like that, but I'm unique just like you. You're not crazy. You're just unique, ya hear?" She frowned at me again. "That's why I've decided to take you in. I call it the Madhouse. A safe haven for people like you and me."
"Safe...? Safe from who?"
"The world, Michelle? They want people like us locked away in some asylum on an unknown island where the sun never shines, but I'm not gonna let that happen to you. Trust me. I know what goes on in those types of places and you wouldn't be able to survive that shit." I shuddered visibly, making her giggle ever so softly at me. "Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. You're makeup looks like shit now, Dollface." She laughed at that and I was happy she had. "When you get back I'll tell you more about the house."
Michelle put her feet back on the floor and stood, smiling at me as if I was her gaurdian angel. I noticed that her right eye twitched a little bit. Great. She opened her arms wide and wrapped them around me, nearly throwing herself into me like a daughter finding her lost father. I grunted a little. She was strong like an ox for a wannabe Cinderella Barbie. "Oh, Dr. Calaway." Oh, my fucking God. Did she just swoon? Lady, I'm not your fucking Prince Charming. "I'd love to live in your Madhouse. Just as long as I get to bring my dolls."
"Darlin', you can bring as many dolls as you want." I almost chuckled. "And by the way, you can stop touchin' me now."
She jumped back immediately, giving me a shy smile before turning to leave. "Thank you, Dr. Calaway." She giggled softly, sashaying her way toward the door.
I watched her with a smile...until she opened the door and left. And the second the door shut behind her- "Well, isn't she just the prettiest little Barbie doll?"
Fuck. I recognized that inhuman voice and all the other voices that spoke along with it like listening to seven different people talk at the same time. My skin instantly scrambled and for a moment I was locked into place, stunned silent by the horrifying voice that'd come from behind me. My blood ran cold, colder than it already was and the room had grown cold as well. Like a goddamn ice box. I wanted to turn around. Wanted to look whoever had spoken in the face, but I couldn't. I couldn't move a muscle. I never could. And it knew that. It knew I was afraid, but I was too stubborn to show it. "What in the seven hells are you doing here, you son of a bitch." I growled impatiently and I could feel it chuckling behind me. That booming deep voice shaking the very foundation of my desk. "Stop fucking laughing. I'm dead ass serious."
"Is that so? Well why won't you let me see your pretty eyes, Mark? You hardly ever do." Regardless of my demand, it was still laughing. It was probably taunting me like it usually did. "I want to see them, Mark."
"Oh yeah? Well, what if I don't want you to see them. You have your own to fucking look at."
"Oh, stop being such a child, Mark." It dragged out my name like It felt some sort of arousal from it. Its words sounded like they were coming from the mouth of a snake. My body shuddered in response to Its demonic drawl.
"Look, can you just get the fuck out? I'm tired of seeing you. I'm tired of dealing with you. I want you out of my life, goddamnit." My words were thick with anger and I was certain It heard how angry I was getting. Then again, I didn't intimidate It like I intimidated others.
"Listen to yourself, Mark. Do you realize exactly who you're talking to?"
"You're not real."
"Oh, yes I am, Mark." It startled chuckling again and this time I heard the chair roll backwards, followed by heavy footsteps on the thin, red carpet. "I am real in every part of your reality. What, do you think you are dreaming right now? Do you think you are trapped in some kind of nightmare right now, Mark?"
"You don't know how badly I wish I was." I muttered, clenching my teeth together in anger, my hands balling into fists.
"Oh, you're so damn funny, Mark." It laughed darkly, sending chills up my spine. "But may I remind you of something?"
"Go ahead. You're not afraid to tell me anything. And you really do have some sick shit to say to me." The second I said those words, I regretted even opening my mouth. Because, at that moment, It was standing directly in front of me and I felt my heart cave in inside my chest and I thought my throat was going to crack from suddenly drying up. It looked liked me. Stood as tall as me. Had a massive frame like me. Hell, some would say it was me. But it wasn't. At least...I didn't want it to be. It was a lot paler and probably had a bit more muscle on the arms, but it wasn't me. It's hair was jetblack instead of a light red and its beard hung down to its chest in the shape of a blade point. It's facial features were just about the same as mine, only a few years younger. But it wasn't me...
"There is no getting rid of me, Mark. I've been with you ever since that night you sold your soul. Just face it. You say you're sick of seeing me, but when you look in the mirror, I'm the only thing you see. You say you want me out of your life, but your life is my life. The only way to get rid of me is to take your life, Mark. I. AM. YOU. MARK!"
"DAMNIT, NO YOU'RE NOT!" I shouted back, but while I was saying one thing, my mind could not deny that I was looking at a mirror image of myself. An image that only my eyes could see. And as terrifying as it was, I once stood in the form of this demonic being. A Lord of Darkness as they used to call me. The most notorious, cold-hearted, evil son of a bitch known to man who thrived on spilling blood, taking lives, having my way with anyone I pleased. And it was funny how my heart chose not to feel remorse toward that past life until I had grown older and realized what I used to be. I used to be one of Hell's own creations. In fact, somewhere deep inside, I still was. The only difference from now and then was that I tried so hard to hide that evil, bloodthirsty part of me behind this mask of sanity and so-called 'innocence'. While I knew I was nothing close to that. I was a demon. Just like I was destined to be. "I hate you." I growled between clenched teeth, my entire body trembling in anger.
"Yes, I know." It smirked at me and between those strange, evil lips glistened dozens of razor sharp teeth. "You've hated yourself for years, Mark. But no matter how hard you fight it, you're never going to change. You're just going to put on more and more costumes of this normal human being, aren't you, Mark?"
"Get away from me!" I lashed out at him, but found myself stumbling forward through nothing but air and the next thing I knew, I was crashing over the patients chair. My hands reached and clawed for anything to stop my fall, but to no avail. I tumbled onto my back, my face winced slightly in the pain throbbing up and down my spine and standing over me with that devilish smirk was...me. That dark, bloodthirsty side of me that I just couldn't get rid of. I glared daggers into those glowing, blood red eyes until I thought a hole would form right in the center of my face. "You son of a bitch." I rumbled, not knowing what else to say.
"That's no way to speak of your mother, Mark." It continued to laugh at me.
I instantly jumped to my feet and grabbed the chair by the arms, prepared to hurl it toward the hulking creature, but before I could, I heard the door clicking behind me.
"Dr. Calaway?" I heard Michelle's voice as she slowly opened the door and I looked over my shoulder at her. Her eyeliner no longer rolled down her cheeks in black streaks and her blush had faded a great deal. She looked concerned, though. Her thin brows pointed toward the bridge of her nose as she stared at me. "I heard a noise."
"What noise?" I asked her as I gently set the chair back down.
"I don't know, but it was loud and it kinda scared me." She looked around nervously and smiled weakly at me after swallowing. "Do you mind walking me to my apartment? It's not too far from here."
"Sure. Why not? Just let me lock things up around here and I'll be right with you, alright?"
She nodded her response and disappeared out of the doorway and just as she left my sight, I turned my head back around to see if that Thing was still there. It wasn't. There was no trace that It had even been there. I released a deep sigh, no longer feeling cold to my bones like I did when It was there. I knew It would be back, no doubt. Unfortunately. And hopefully Michelle wouldn't be around to witness me talk to...myself.
"Dr. Calaway?" She called me from down the hall and I could hear a hint of impatience in her voice.
I'm comin' you damn impatient bitch, I wanted to say as I picked up my notepad and pen from my desk and left the office. I dug into my pants pocket for my keys, shut the door, locked it, tucked the key back into its rightful place. Michelle was waiting for me by the glass front door of the building, staring up at the sky while she stood completely still. When I followed her gaze, I realized that the sky was becoming an eerie, dark gray. "Come on." I pushed open the door for her and gently ushered her through. "Let's not get caught in a storm, sound good?"
She nodded as we walked down the steps leading to the sidewalk and immediately the sounds of the city streets met us both. I nodded to a security official who waited outside the door, signaling for him to lock up the building. Michelle had been my last patient for the day, thank heavens. There was only so much insanity I could take in one day before I found myself going insane like my patients. I was just glad Michelle didn't see my little episode...or she would've changed her entire outlook on me. Besides...who would trust the Devil as their psychiatrist?