Chapter LXVIII: Introducing Schitzo
May 25, 2542 (UNSC Calendar)/
Sérénité Psychiatric Institute, Udinia, Paris IV, Paris System
"I don't need this," I stated. "Commander."
"Ok, listen up, you do whatever the fuck I tell you to do and you do it diligently," Albaf snapped at me. I hadn't been in contact with her for a long while and now I had to deal with her in addition to a faulty brain. Yee-pee.
"Ok, I can understand, how I might need help, but is it really necessary to bring me inside a madhouse?"
"Mental institution sergeant, and yes," she replied as the doors opened.
Staff Sergeant. "Why not a simple shrink? This is demeaning."
"This guy is the best of the best, we need your expertise on the ship and don't have much time to spare. He'll be able to help you better than anyone in the shortest time possible," Albaf explained me. I am pretty sure that by the best of the best Albaf meant that he could be persuaded to put me down as mentally healthy if ONI pressed down a little bit.
"Why not take me to a UNSC sanctioned shrink?" I asked her.
"Because we don't just want you back on the field, we want you healed," she said. I had not reply to that one. "Although for the love of God I have no idea why my superiors have the hots for you." Albaf walked towards a receptionist and after exchanging a few words she pointed at an elevator. "Eighteenth floor, room 1806, should be easy enough to find it." Having said that, she turned around and left.
My first impression when the hog pulled over in front of the institution my first impression was not a good one. The place looked like something out of a horror film. It was built out of red bricks that looked to be a million years old, the façade was cracking, there was a huge iron gate with the name of the place on top that opened automatically and nearly everything in here looked like I actually was inside Insane in the Brain or some other scary movie.
The inside of the institution looked a lot more professional, with mild security in addition to marble floors and a very stylish reception. The receptionist was a pretty blonde woman (no surprise there) with an earpiece and a professional outfit sitting behind a wooden reception desk. The elevators looked to be quite new, even with the old-fashioned wooden inlays and retro buttons. I clicked on the eighteenth floor and watched as the doors slowly closed in front of me.
I was glad that I was the only person in the elevator. Those things are awkward enough as it is without someone asking you why you are in a psychiatric institution. I simply turned around and enjoyed the view of the city from the quickly raising elevator. Well, whatever the smog didn't block, there was a brown cloud covering almost all the city all the way down to the shortest buildings. I'm still not entirely sure why people stuck around in this place. When the elevator reached the eighteenth floor it opened with a ping that made my shake my head. I stepped out and looked to both sides of the long hallway. It looked like room 1806 was to the right, so that's where I headed.
I took two deep breaths once I was in front of the door and knocked.
"Come in," I was prompted.
I entered two a small reception with yet another striking blonde sitting behind a large wooden desk with several phones and a computer on top. She looked at me and then to her computer.
"Staff Sergeant Castillo?" she asked me.
"Yes."
"Dr. Crowe will see you now."
I looked at her quizzically, wondering why she seemed to be so uninterested in me. I could be suffering from any kind of dangerous mental disease and she barely even glanced up at me from her computer.
Maybe she has a gun under the table.
That certainly made me walk the last two steps towards Dr. Crowe's office a little bit faster. I looked over my shoulder and actually relaxed a little when I saw that she was instead playing a game on her computer. How very unprofessional of her. I turned back to the front and contemplated the door for a second wondering what would be the outcome of this session.
"Go ahead, he doesn't bite," the receptionist said.
I forced a chuckle and moved my hand towards the door console. I clicked the open button, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. The office looked just like I imagined it would. Welcoming and filled with nice leather chairs. There was a large bookcase in one wall that was only half-filled with books and pictures or small sculptures. The other wall was entirely a window that displayed the not-so-magnificent view of downtown Udinia. There was also another large wooden desk full of papers and interesting objects that you would expect to see in a desk. There were also a couple of diplomas hung in the wall behind it. Directly in front of me were two large, leathery chairs that looked comfortable enough to sleep in. I imagined that this was what a grandfather's office would've looked like.
Despite the warm and welcoming image, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I could feel myself start sweating. The doctor and I weren't the only people in the room. There were two people other than me inside the office, an oldish, balding man with thick-rimmed glasses dressed in slacks and tie and the man that I had seen in my room.
"Good morning," the shrink said as soon as I walked in. "Please sit down," he gestured to one of the chairs.
I shook the man's hand and leaned back towards the chair I had been indicated to sit down in while trying my best to avoid looking fixedly at the corner where the man was leaning backwards. I failed miserably. My hallucination simply smiled a little and waved before crossing his arms and taking a relaxed stance.
"So, sergeant, I hear that you had hallucinations."
"Hallucination," I corrected.
"I see." He reached to his desk and actually produced a notepad and a pen. I was surprised to see him do that, I thought that that kind of thing only happened in the movies, or that it was some sort of joke. "Could you describe this hallucination to me?" he asked. "That is, if you don't mind of course."
"No, I don't mind," I lied. Dr. Crowe simply sat back in his own chair and listened to my story while making a few notes and stopping me for clarifications occasionally. He seemed particularly interested on the reason for which I decided to wreck an entire hotel room just to find the source of the voice.
"I guess I just didn't want to believe what was really happening," I said when I was asked about it.
"I see," Crowe said once more as he jotted down some notes. I still didn't know whether the notepad made me feel safer or more worried.
I resumed my story and the doctor seemed particularly surprised that I had actually seen a person and not just heard things. He wrote down what seemed like an entire composition on his notepad before urging me to go on again. I finished my story telling him about the knife and my girlfriend coming through the door.
"Very well, for me to clear you for active service, I need to know two things," he started. "Have you ever seen this… man before?"
"No, I had never seen him, at least not consciously, before the hallucination."
"Very well," Crowe nodded. "Why do you think he was there?"
"What?"
"His purpose, why did your mind create that?"
"Because it's sick?" I offered.
I got a steady, stern look and had to admit defeat. "I don't know, honestly, the man was only being annoying and overall very creepy."
"Ok…" he murmured as he jotted down some other notes. "And, have you seen this man-"
"Schitzo, I like that name," the hallucination in the corner said, prompting me to give it a nervous glance and suppress a shudder.
"-on any other occasion other than in the hotel room?"
"How about we give him a name?" I asked.
"Very well, what do you propose?"
"Schitzo," I said. "Fitting." I tried to smile to show that I was joking. I don't think it worked. Dr. Crowe simply raised one of his bushy eyebrows and jotted some more things in his notes before asking me if I had seen him anywhere else other than the hotel. I glanced to the corner nervously, where Schitzo simply nodded at me to answer, as if he was daring me to tell the truth.
"No," I said firmly. "Just the one time."
"Now there, you shouldn't tell lies Francisco."
This time I actually shuddered at the hallucination's comment and tried my best to avoid looking Dr. Crowe in the eyes, instead deciding to focus on the bruises and scars on my knuckles and back of both my hands. There were some interesting stories behind those scars, mostly involving bar brawling and a couple of beatings to the unlucky grunt or jackal, but a the moment, that was the last thing on my mind. I flexed my hands before getting the courage to look back up.
"Any reason why you might've had this hallucination?" he asked me.
"I don't really know."
"Any hard hits to the head recently?"
"That's pretty much in the job description," I shrugged. "Besides, the scans didn't show any sign of brain damage."
"Guilt?" he asked simply.
"Wouldn't Schitzo show as a person I got killed?"
"You have a good point, cases like this usually manifest that way, also, most soldiers that suffer them can't function at all. You, you are strange that way. Not entirely unheard of, but still extremely rare."
I shrugged to myself and took in the information. It usually was something of a compliment to be one-of-a-kind or unique, not so much when you suffer from a mental illness with little to no concrete information on it. I wish that it 'd just been simple, plain, old-fashioned PTSD. That would've simplified things a lot more than getting a hallucination that seemed to be stalking me.
"Still, you must have some guilt over surviving this long," Crowe insisted. "What little I was allowed to see of your dossier was pretty impressive." It was certainly not a compliment.
"Look, I've made some bad choices, gotten some people hurt, perhaps even killed, but I have no guilt over that. I did what I had to do to survive and to save more. The men that have died under my command would certainly do it again if faced with the same choice, they were all brave men and women and knew the odds when they joined, so no, not any guilt."
"Interesting."
Seriously? Could you get any more cliché?
"Very well," he continued. "I assume that you know that you're not here to get cured. I just need to give you a diagnosis and medication and instructions for your ship doctor. That way you can keep yourself in check and if anything bad were to happen your doctor could handle the situation relatively well."
"Ok," I said.
"I still don't know the exact diagnosis, probably won't by the end of the session, but hallucination is obvious, so I'll just give you antipsychotics. One a day."
"Sounds easy enough."
"Now, I need to ask more questions so that I can get a better idea of what you have…"
From that point on the conversation took a decidedly ugly turn. Dr. Crowe asked me if my family had any history of mental illness, and then went deep into my relationship with my parents and uncle before snapping to my love life and then abruptly changing subject to combat experiences. I got asked about my friends, or more appropriately, friend. I answered all the questions the best I could, this was, after all, my mental health we were dealing with.
Finally, after over two hours of rapid-fire interrogation and spilling every last one of my secrets, hopes, and fears to Dr. Crowe, I was finally beginning to start tiring. Schitzo had not moved or said anything since the last time and instead looked from me to Dr. Crowe whenever each one of us was speaking. The psychiatrist stood up and offered me his hand.
"I still don't know what you have," he apologized, "but you have to understand that it's a medical condition. Be very careful about it."
"Of course."
"Here," he tossed me a bottle of medicine. "On the house, any further hallucinations must be reported to your ship's doctor."
"Yes," I said.
"Good luck."
Schitzo took that as his queue to move and walked behind me as I left the room. He said nothing and I actually had to stop myself from holding the door for him, but he simply appeared on the other side of the room once I turned around. I felt like I was in a bad horror movie. I glanced quickly at the receptionist and decided to ignore her when I saw that she was still playing on her computer. I shrugged to myself, gave Schitzo a glare and walked towards the hallway.
"Come back soon," she said absent-mindedly.
I stopped on my tracks and turned around slowly. One thing was being unprofessional and then there was being stupid. "Come back soon?" I asked. "You for real?"
She looked annoyed by my reply before she noticed how big she had just screwed up. "Oh, crap, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that I was distracted and that-"
"Yeah, whatever," I said, turning around and leaving the small room.
"Bitch," Schitzo added. I only glared at him and snapped my eyes away from his as soon as they met.
"One pill a day," I murmured to myself. "Sounds easy enough."
I walked towards the elevator and pulled out the medicine from my pocket. I shook the bottle a couple of times, the rattling sound the pills made when they hit each other was strangely reassuring. I read the instructions and ingredients slowly and carefully. I almost did a double take when I saw the side effects of the medicine.
"Pancreatitis, increased likelihood of heart attack, narcoleptic malignant syndrome, and death." I murmured while I waited for the elevator. "Nice going there jackass," I told Schitzo. "Oh, and look at this, sexual impotence. For being a part of me you really are a big asshole."
My imaginary friend didn't say anything, but he actually shrugged a little and smiled. The elevator opened and he extended his hand as if to actually let me pass first. I had no other choice but to comply, making me feel like I was in some sort of medical show. I shook my head and closed my eyes hard, when I opened them, there was still another person in the elevator with me. I gave up and opened the bottle of medicine. I looked carefully at one of the pills. It looked like any other pill would've looked. Schitzo gave me a look that was just daring me to take the medication. I threw it in the air and caught it in my mouth as it went back down. I swallowed it without water and closed my eyes for a couple of seconds.
Schitzo was still there.
The door made a ring when the elevator reached the ground floor, prompting me to look towards them, when I glanced back, the elevator was completely empty save for me. I smiled and walked out of the elevator and out of the mental hospital.
"How'd it go?" Marina asked me. She was keeping her distance, that much was evident. I didn't blame her, but it still felt bad.
"Well enough, no final diagnosis, but he gave me this bottle of happy pills," I showed her the orange bottle.
"Frank…"
"I'm fine," I insisted. "It was a one time thing, now I am medicated and under expert care."
"Expert care?" she asked.
"Yeah, amateur shrink," I said while pointing at her. "And abusive orderly," I added while I gestured at Pavel, who was carrying a tray filled with chow and walking towards our table.
"Heyo," he said as he sat down. "You gonna go psycho on me?"
"The magic pills say I won't," I said.
"Good, I want to eat in peace."
"So," I said. "How's that thing going?"
Pavel got the biggest smile on his face as he put his spoon down. He pushed out his chest and even got some sort of happy aura around him before he prepared to answer. Then he blushed a little and looked at Marina quickly, but she didn't know what we were talking about, so he could answer me without tipping her off.
"Eight."
"Eight?" I asked. That was a lot.
"Eight," Pavel confirmed.
"Whoa. Broke my record."
"What record?" Marina asked.
"Most girls slept with in less than a month," I said, my face displaying no emotion.
"No seriously," she laughed. "What record?"
"It's a guy thing," I said.
"Yeah, you probably wouldn't understand."
"Guys?" she pleaded. "Please tell me."
"Well, I've gotta hit the gym," I said.
"Yeah, and I have to go… over… that way," Pavel said.
We both left our seats at the same time and left a very annoyed Marina sitting alone on the table. There are few things worse than being alone in a table, but when it was your boyfriend standing you up, she was bound to be more angry than annoyed. I quickly realized what my mistake was and turned around and sat back down next to her, placing my arm around her shoulder.
"Don't worry, I'll wait for you to finish your… goo," I said, eyeing her food.
Pavel made a whip noise and kept walking. If I had had an apple within reach at the moment I would've given him a nasty bruise on the back of the head, but luck wasn't with me that day.
Marina dropped the topic and instead we had one of those long conversations about nothing in particular that switch from topic to topic and achieve nothing other than pass time and get some laughs. It seemed to draw her mind away from me throwing a knife at the door where she came through a second later. Maybe she was worried that my subconscious wanted to kill her, but how could I? She is the only good thing in my life other than microwave lasagna.
"Well, I'm done," she said.
"That much is evident."
"Ass," she teased.
I shrugged happily at her.
"You know," she said, my roomies are busy till eight," she proposed.
"Really, why are you telling me this?" I asked.
She opened her mouth and seemed surprised that I didn't get what she meant before she smiled at me and put her hand on my leg. "Oh Frank, you're so naïve."
"Whoa, public place, public place."
"What, you nervous?" she asked, putting a sexy tone in her voice. It worked pretty well, but still not sexy as that lieutenant. If only I had archived a sample of her voice. Never mind, that is creepy as hell. "Are you?" she asked again.
"Let's just go to your room," I told her while I poked her ribs, extracting a giggle that she failed to suppress in time.
"Don't even,…"
"Or what?" I asked, making guns with my fingers.
"Frank-" Whatever she was going to say was cut short by me poking her in the ribs again, forcing her to laugh and giggle all over again. She vaulted from her chair and speedwalked away from me, she was heading back to her room, so I had to follow her. Unfortunately, I wasn't so self-conscious and actually ran towards her, catching her and tickling her all over until she begged me to stop.
"What? I'm not doing anything," I protested. "I'm barely even touching you." I put my hands near her ribs but didn't actually make contact with them. Her self-control was so messed up by this point that she started laughing very loudly, prompting me to look around to see if anyone would see and take us for weirdos. No one was there, so I opened her room's door and half-shoved her in.
I was only just done taking off my boots when Marina had her pants off, that gave me a good look of her long and shapely legs, distracting me for a little bit before I managed to undo my belt. As I looked up to see how my beautiful partner was doing I felt like I was hit by a sledgehammer.
At the edge of the room there was a dark silhouette, scary and familiar. He stepped forward so that the light hit his face, revealing the person and destroying every hope that I wasn't loosing my mind. The hallucination smiled at me smugly while ignoring Marina completely, yet even her realized that something was wrong. She stopped undressing herself and gave me a weird look.
"What?" Marina and Schitzo both asked at the same time.
"Did you really think that a single pill would get rid of me?"
Hey guys, I've decided to give you a Christmas Eve update because you're that important to me. And I love you. Yes.
Ok, back to the post-chapter author's foreword/note/comment. I know that this chapter is probably awkwardly written and not very realistic when it comes to the visit to the psychologist. I did that pretty much how I imagined it would go and borrowing heavily from movies and television, so forgive me if the visit to Dr. Crowe (I wonder why that name sounds familiar...) was less realistic than possible.
Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Politically correct statement for the season: Happy Holidays!
-casquis