Man Hating Psycho

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Man Hating Psycho Page 7

by Iphgenia Baal


  I sent a message.

  I don’t know you.

  I sent another.

  Stop harassing me.

  Bad move on my part. The messages start arriving in droves.

  I don’t mind

  But it would’ve been nice if u let me know

  Disrespectful to not

  U looked butters btw

  I just wanted u to know that

  ‘Butters’ stirred something. The use of archaic slang made me wonder again if I maybe did know this person. They were definitely around my age and clearly from London and…

  With ur fucking shit flower

  On ur fucking shit head

  On ur fucking shit infested body

  I was lost again. I hadn’t, as far as I could recollect, worn any shit flower or any other kind of flower on my shit head.

  I texted back again.

  LOL. Bit strong!

  But Who was on one.

  I was shocked at how baff u are

  So baff

  I tried one last intervention.

  Yo. I don’t know you. Stop messaging me.

  I don’t know if Who saw my messages or not but the rate he was sending them at made me think that even if he did see them, he wasn't taking them in.

  I’m going to find u n trow U off a balcony

  Fate of every posh cunt hahaha

  I’d feel bad doing this to anyone else but u deserve it

  I love fighting with what iv got

  My mind and my body

  U fight with nothing

  Becos u r nothing

  I opened message settings and turned off ‘read’ notifications then returned to the thread, which was growing by the second.

  I should call ur mother n tell her

  Tell her what a stank ass ho her dgahuter is

  Mind u she’s probably just as bad

  On a crack ting

  Dirty girl

  I bet ur pum be st8nking

  Why you blocking my messages?

  A call, then back to messaging.

  Why do i still even see u on my feed?

  Why do i still even here of u

  Dead bit

  Dead out

  Shit head

  Now i know why OJ did it

  Diiiiiiickhead

  We’re so fucking dun

  U fucking deadout person

  Dead

  Out

  Baff

  I screen grabbed a few sections of the thread. I don’t know why I did it. Being a person who has herself expressed many a panic attack via text message I can’t say I was worried. I wasn’t afraid these messages would materialise into a physical threat to my person. What I felt more was something closer to a sense of power or control over Who (a couple of screen grabs of this sort of shit was enough to get someone arrested) combined with a dash of sadistic amusement at the thought of someone in their flat going totally crazy.

  I never thought I hated anyone til I saw ur dirty crack looking shit stained face

  All the best ones hate u know that

  And the rest

  They arent real

  Probably cos u fucked them all is why

  Everyone i know came in that stank hole

  Now they disgusted with theyself

  U owt to be shot and killed

  I should hunt you down

  Cos me I got nothing but time

  Hate fuck you

  Pillowbiterzzzz anonymous pahahahaha

  Ur gonna have ur lips wrapped round this cock before the days out either way

  Mark my words

  Watch them eyes bug out ur skull

  And ur gonna like it

  A call.

  Whatever

  Ignore me den

  Mek no difference

  I just can’t stand liars and emotional bullies

  And that’s what you are

  And don’t worry

  Already called a lawyer

  Criminal lawyer

  Brief pause.

  Last chance

  Call.

  Ok den

  See you in court

  A speech bubble appeared going dot, dot, dot then disappeared, reappeared again, and disappeared again. The screen locked.

  Next morning, there’s a voicemail.

  I called my answering machine to listen.

  — Welcome to Vodafone voicemail, the answerphone said. — You have one new message and three saved messages. To listen to your messages…

  I cut the answering machine off by pressing ‘one’.

  The voicemail was long and peculiar. Some rustling, a door or cupboard being shut, distant voices. It was a pocket call but something about it made me think it was made on purpose. Running water. Something scraping the receiver. The phone being carried from an inside space to an outside space. Distant traffic.

  — That was your last new message, the answerphone said. — Saved messages.

  I hung up.

  My WhatsApp icon alerted me to twelve new messages. Why had Who switched from text to WhatsApp?

  On the case for cunt and cunty

  Jojake

  Kofuck

  Transpasay

  Blasting clearways

  I’m fucked

  Sorry

  Im so sorry

  I really am

  I’m sorry

  Love u

  I’m messed up

  As soon as I opened the WhatsApp messages, Who called. The clairvoyance of insanity, or had he been online watching and waiting for the blue ticks?

  I should’ve ignored the call, or at the very least waited until I was more awake, but I was too hungover to get up and too hungover to sleep and was up for the entertainment.

  — Hello, I said, when the call was answered.

  — Hello, said the voice I kinda recognised.

  Neither of us said anything. In the background I could hear a slow, steady beep, like a measured heartbeat.

  — Thanks for calling me back, the voice said. — Sorry about last night.

  — Are you gonna tell me who I’m speaking to? I said. — Or are you gonna make me guess?

  — It’s me, the voice said, sounding offended.

  — Me who? I said.

  The voice doesn’t say anything.

  — Why are you calling me? I said.

  — You called me, the voice said, still offended.

  — Yes but you called me, I said. — You’ve been calling me and sending me crazy texts all night!

  The voice doesn’t say anything.

  —Hello-o? I said. — Are you hearing me?

  — I tried to kill myself last night, the voice said.

  My turn to go silent.

  —I said, the voice said, sounding hard-done-by, — I tried to kill myself last night.

  — Oh, I said. — Sorry. But, you know, I still don’t know who I’m speaking to.

  — No, the voice said.

  —No? I said.

  — No. I tried to kill myself and the only person I wanted was you… I’m okay, in case you were wondering.

  — Ok, I said. — Well, I’m glad you’re okay and I’m sorry for, you know, whatever, but this is not who you think it is. I’m not whoever you need to be speaking to.

  — Please don’t get angry, the voice said, going up an octave.

  — I’m not angry, I said. — But I’m gonna go.

  — You don’t understand, the voice said. — I heard voices… Actual voices. You. My mum. And I don’t know, I just had to get out, get out. Please don’t hang up. Don’t hang up. Don’t hang up. Please. Just listen. Understand. I went to the Joiners, where we had our first date. Do you remember? I know you do.

  The sound of something hitting the phone or the phone being hit against something.

  — Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, the voice said. — The footie was on. Liverpool lost and the Fulham boys were gloating and I told them, just leave it, you know babe? You know me. I just wanna sit here and drink my pint… I don
’t want trouble.

  The voice was babbling.

  — Sorry, I said. — I’m hanging up now. Ok. Goodbye, goodbye.

  — Please don’t interrupt, the voice said. — It’s really important you understand.

  — Sorry, I said. — But I just don’t get why are you telling me this? I think you need to talk to someone, you know, professional.

  — Just lissen, the voice said. — Please. Fletcher persuaded me to go halves on a ticket.

  I rolled over in bed and the reception dipped making the voice drop in and out.

  — Taxi back to Fulham… Everyone at the same time… On my own… Everyone at the same time… Decided to do it… So calm… Bathroom… On my own… Decided to do it… Bathroom… So calm.

  I held the phone up for better signal.

  — I was so calm, the voice said. — That’s how I knew it was right. The right thing to do. I went into the bathroom and turned on the tap and I was gonna do it right there. That’s when I called you, you know. To say sorry, to let you know it wasn’t your fault. I had my razor and I was gonna do it but then Sean, I could hear Sean getting ready for work. Sean, Sean… it wasn’t fair doing it where Sean would find me, where he’d come home from work, and find me, dead, and covered in blood.

  Static on the line detracts from the melodrama. I didn’t know any Sean.

  — So I went out to the alley behind the house, you know the one where we… There, I thought, at least someone else would find me. The cut was deep, brer, deep. The blood bubbled out, like spurting. There was loads of blood. I did it right, I did it properly. The way you're s’posed to. I don’t fuck about, you know? Up, not across, the way you’re s’posed to. Then I just lay there watching the blood come out for ages. I must’ve lain there, I don’t know, for, like, forty-five minutes…

  The voice stopped. It felt like he’s was waiting for me to say something.

  — I severed three tendons, the voice ventured, as if it might help.

  — I’m not sure, I say, — What you want me to say. I don’t really get why you’re telling me this.

  — I didn’t do it, the voice shouted. — You have to understand. I decided to live. I decided I wanted to live. And this woman, this woman, this old girl, this old woman, man, if it wasn’t for her. She called the ambulance. She got blood on her nice coat. I told her I’d buy her a new one but I don’t even know who she is like. Like her name. They took me to hospital. I’m here now. I severed three tendons…

  The voice stops. I don’t fill the silence.

  — Please, the voice said. — You’ve got to understand. They asked me, they asked me who I should call, and, I don’t know, Fletcher, Fletcher seemed like the best person.

  — Look, I said. — I’m really sorry but can you just put yourself in my shoes for one second?

  Sulky silence.

  — What d’you mean? the voice said.

  — I don’t know you! I said. — How many times? You’re telling me all this stuff and I don’t think you even know who I am.

  — Please don’t get angry. Please don’t go, the voice said.

  — Ok, I said. — If you know me, what’s my name?

  — He found the letter, the voice said.

  — What fucking letter? I said.

  — The letter to you, the voice said. — He came round to mine before he came to the hospital, to get clothes. I needed clothes because they’d had to cut up my t-shirt and my jeans were covered in blood and I didn’t have shoes or a jacket or anything… Don’t get angry. Please. Please don’t get angry. Please. Please. Please. Please. I wrote it ages ago. He went through my things. It wasn’t like it was out. It’s really important that you understand. He went through my things. I was never gonna send it or anything. I swear.

  A different voice. The mysterious Fletcher?

  — Who are you talking to? it said. — Are you talking to her? I told you stay the…

  The receiver is covered and the shouting which ensues is intermittently beeped out by the sound of buttons being pressed.

  — How many *beeeeep* do I *beep* *beep* *beeeeeeep* when you only wanna *beep* for the *beep* *beep* *beeeeep*.

  NOTHING OLD, NOTHING NEW, NOTHING BORROWED, NOTHING BLUE

  — Look at your kitchen, look at your kitchen, ohmygod look at your kitchen. It’s delightful… only wait ’til you hear what my husband said, how it’s all very well if all you’ve got to do is look after kids, I mean, he doesn’t have to get up in the night, he doesn’t have to get up in the morning, so I get it in early. Going from being a full-time event manager with a social life, a very fulfilling life, to being a full-time mum is a big shift. I spend a lot of time mourning my old life. I mean, I’m very happy, I wouldn’t change a thing, but it’s hard, it’s difficult, it’s lonely. Even though I’m doing the most important job in the world, I feel like a sack of shit. but it’s fine. I’ve been doing some volunteering. Not doing a huge amount. Cold calling. Funny, ’cos that’s why I had a baby in the first place, to get away from that shit.

  Oh, and then the festival was this weekend. Did I tell you about that? For me, it was work, I mean, I was going to enjoy myself, not get too fucked, and I could always go back to feed the baby. So Friday night is fine, but then Saturday night Lloyd dis-a-ppears. He calls two hours later, like, ‘I’m in Luton bleurgh’. So I was like, ‘What you doing in Luton?’ and he was like, ‘Dunno’. He said he was at the airport but I could hear people laughing in the background so I just said, ‘Remember that in two and a half hours you’ve got to take the baby.’ An hour later he called again. This time he was in Gatwick. ‘What you doing in Gatwick?’ I said, and he was like, ‘Dunno’. So, six-thirty comes and the door opens. He’s soaked in booze. Stinking. Ten minutes later, he’s asleep. So I do breakfast and sort out the baby and at seven-thirty I go up to wake him, and I’m like, ‘Honey, I, I think you should get up’, and it’s just so bad, I’m already that type of person. I thought the transition was going to be slower, but I’m settled I guess. Anyway, guess who i met at the festival?? Probably one of the most famous people in the world.

  But I mean it’s the fucking principle. I have to go to the festival with my baby because he’s been on a booze binge round London’s airports. I just felt like such a gooner. Really bad. Really really really bad. I told him, your responsibility, your child, you’ve known about this for three fucking months. I was so angry… But then he has been really good since then. It’s just a shame that it manifests itself like this. But, yeah, since then he’s been really good, really interactive. With the baby, I mean. I really like him. He’s a good dad. And you know, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just don’t get to see my friends so much. Yeah. I’m okay. It’s just good to see you.

  But you know what I really want is friends who are mums. I’ve got a few people I see at the moment, but there isn’t anyone that’s like ohmygodwecanbebestfriends, I haven’t met that person yet.

  Course we do loads of baby shit together. But we do need to do some real shit. Like last night, after we made up… It was really nice. God, it’s so embarrassing… In front of Ritchie. That’s our terrier. Sometimes, I swear, we’re really naughty.

  I mean, I’m very lucky. I’ve got a lovely kitchen. Things are lovely. I’m proud. I’m going to join the Rotary Club. Hope to find like-minded people. They do mountain biking and climbing and a bit of rambling as well, and we’re going to go to the grey water sports club up the road, take up canoeing, so hopefully that will open things up. And my mum, she comes everyday. Do you have a car?

  My mum’s really helpful but very opinionated, so I told her, ‘You care for you’.

  Let me check, I’ve got some photos. Look at thaaaat. My favourite pic, and it’s crazy, she literally has golden hair.

  And this one’s from the lawyers’ weekend. Trident. My mum was so angry but I was like, ‘Hello-o, your daughter’s joining the Rotary Club, what do you expect?’

  Then, after the festival my bosses came to dinner and they’re li
ke, ‘This is fucking great innit?’ and we were like, ‘Yeah, welcome to our happy world in Maidenhead. How’s it working out for you? Your ʻholidayʼ in London?’ Wait until you’re married, wait until you have kids. It changes your relationship so much. Lloyd won’t even put a plate in the dishwasher. Says he doesn’t have the time, but he has time to lie in bed for an hour every morning. So I told him, ‘I’m not asking you to do the dishes, I’m simply asking you to take your plate over to the machine, open it and bend over —’

  PRO LIFE

  There were four of us to start with. M___ , V______ , A_____ and me. A friendship cemented in the back row of Miss Wilder’s maths class via notes passed back and forth.

  M___: Miss Wilder sux big balls!!

  Quiz?

  A_____: Yes

  Me: Ego

  V______: Go on then!!!

  M___: Ok. Don’t think about the answers too much. Just write 1st thing that comes to mind ok??? 1. If you could fuck any famous person alive or dead who would it be?

  A_____: River <3 dead or alive

  Me: LIAM DUR!

  V______: Courtney Love

  M___: 2. If you could be a famous person who would it be?

  A_____: Bob Marley

  Me: Patsy Kensit hahaha no not really. Maybe Marlene Dietrich ?

  V______: Poly Styrene. Wot is this anyway???

  M___: You’ll see… Ok last question. If you could KILL another person who would it be?

  A_____: Killing in the Name of dah dah dah! Can’t wait for next weeeeeek

  Guy from Ocean Colour Scene

  Me: Myself

  V______: Miss Wilder

  M___: Got to be famous!!!

  V______: Ok then… maybe Gary Lineker

  M___: So… The first person is how you see yourself, the second person is how people see you and the last person is who you really are :)

  A_____: Haha V______ is Miss Wilder

  V______: Fuck You

  Me: I’m myself :)

  When not incarcerated in lessons we spent our time shoplifting from Topshop, Boots, C&A; trying to identify persons who were likely to respond positively to our asking for 20p ‘to use the payphone’ (a ruse that lost its effectiveness with age and was finally permanently discontinued by the rise of mobile phones); snogging people (sometimes each other); trying to sort fake IDs; bunnin’ zoots; playing Crash Bandicoot on PlayStation.

 

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