by Ben Thomas
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. The face staring back at me was the face of any normal thirty-three year-old man. If you saw me in the street, you wouldn’t know the storm that was in my mind. I turned on the tap and splashed my face with water and lathered up some facewash to wash away the disappointment of the night. I rinsed my face, the simplest of jobs but the thoughts kept coming, waves perhaps gentle but insistent, eroding my composure. Every time the waves came I foolishly hoped I could turn them back by repeating the process of washing my face and this time by building a bigger dam around my mind.
“Blessed blessings bless me,” I chanted out loud.
Death is here. Demons are here. Death is here.
The higher I built the dam, the stronger the waves came battering against my feeble defences. I washed my face again and again and again.
The Devil is here.
The soap burned into my skin, relieved only by the water I splashed onto my face, but the water couldn’t douse the inferno in my head. I couldn’t stop it. I tried and tried but I couldn’t. I had to get it right. The forbidden words couldn’t be there.
Stop this, Toby. Stop this, you idiot. Be normal.
I felt anger and frustration gathering a force inside of me, preparing a rearguard action to repel him.
You will die, Jess will die, Mum will die, Dad will die.
“Stop!” I roared at my reflection, “STOP!”
You can’t stop. You will be damned. Evil will possess you.
He kept coming back at me louder and angrier. I kept on going and going. Then I stopped. There might not have been a limit to my insanity but there was a limit to the amount of face wash contained in the bottle. It had expired with the forbidden words still boisterous in my mind.
Cancel them out, cancel them out. Stop the evil.
He was raging at me. I flung open the door to the bathroom cabinet. There was no new facewash, why would there be? The bottle I had emptied had been new yesterday. I grabbed the shower gel from the bath and continued to scrub and rinse and chant, scrub and rinse and chant. My breathing intensified, my pulse was barging against my temples, begging to be freed from the madness. I had to keep going, I couldn’t get it right. I exhausted the shower gel.
Even when I marched into the kitchen to retrieve the washing-up liquid to continue, I knew the behaviour was ridiculous but I had to do it, I couldn’t risk not doing it. And even as I saw my face turn redder and even when the blood started to weep from my cheekbones I couldn’t stop because I believed I was protecting myself and those I loved. This washing was keeping us safe. How? I don’t know how, it just was. Mum could die, Jess could die, and I wasn’t prepared to risk not doing it, because then the danger would have been my fault. Inevitably the washing-up liquid ran out and so my hands desperately went to the next thing I could find.
“Arrgghhh!” I screamed as the mouthwash turned into shards of glass slicing into my face. My rage attempted to take control as I hurled the mouthwash bottle hard against the bathroom wall. Green liquid splashed over walls and floor. I stood there motionless, breathing intensely. My rational self made the next move.
Enough is enough, Toby. You need to stop this. Now!
But what if something happens to Jess? What if the evil infects Mum? Do you want Dad to die? It will be your fault.
“No, No, NO, NO!” I roared.
Death will come to them. Demons will come to them.
“NOOOOO!”
Jess will have a car crash. She’s dying. She’s burning. The Devil has her. Don’t think it. It will happen. You have caused it.
The vivid image of my sister crushed inside her car with blood pouring from her lifeless head was painted before me. I had caused it.
“STOP IT!”
You’ve thought it. It will happen.
“GET OUT!”
You have caused it.
I felt his grip tighten against my windpipe and then I realised it was my own hands around my throat. It wasn’t the words attacking me now, it was the image of Jess being dragged broken from the wreckage of the car, blood pouring from her, her screams, her pain. It was fire melting the skin from my dad’s body, his screams, his pain. The images kept coming, more and more real. Julie drowning, Mum being stabbed, crying out in agony, weeping blood.
You have thought it. It will happen. You have made it real.
“BE NORMAL,” I raged. My fist started beating against my stomach, chest and head. I hated him. I wanted to beat him into submission like he was doing to me.
“Out, out, OUT!” I kept striking my head. Harder and harder. “I,” whack, “CAN’T,” whack, “DO,” whack, “IT,” whack, “ANYMORE.”
I fell to my knees, curled up in a ball. Tears streaming from my eyes. Wheezing breaths. Defeated. Broken. My breathing slowed and the flood of tears turned to a trickle, gently soothing my burning face and bringing relief. I lay there surrendered on the bathroom floor, exhausted, and felt the fear, anxiety and anger ebb away, as my master temporarily stood aside.
6
I woke up perhaps a couple of hours later, made my way to my bed and managed to get back to sleep. The damage had been done. The forbidden words and horrifying thoughts had already happened. It couldn’t get any worse. I awoke again at about 11, with the compulsory hangover, augmented by the stinging from my face. I stumbled into the bathroom and groaned as I saw my reflection in the mirror. It was red raw, like a severe case of sunburn. I went back into my bedroom, picked up last night’s trousers and retrieved the phone I’d told Bobby I didn’t have. He didn’t need to tell me to feel bad about lying. I probably deserved the punishment that would be coming my way. There were three texts awaiting me. One from my sister, one from mum and one from Julie. Mum’s text was to remind me that I was due for dinner this afternoon and Jess’s was to remind me not to be late because of some announcement she was making. I hovered my finger over Julie’s text, nervous as to what she had to say. I contemplated deleting it. The nervousness would usually prompt him to tell me to be on full alert but the day had already been damaged beyond repair. I was expecting the worst. I opened it.
HEY TOBY. HOPE YOU ARE OKAY. CALL ME? JULIE
I didn’t know how I felt reading it. Was that a good text? A neutral text? I knew I should ring her ring her back or text her at least but I was well and truly tainted today. It could only cause further harm if I contacted her. It was safer to leave things as they were.
*
The house was like any other 1970s semi-detached three-bed house in the suburbs of Manchester, but as I approached the familiar red door it greeted me as an old friend and whispered that I was safe here. My family home was a bit of a paradox. On the one hand, this was the place where I first met him, but since moving out, the times when I revisited were the closest I got to feeling normal.
“Come here son.” The towering figure of my dad greeted me with his obligatory embrace. Dad was in his late fifties now and like mum retired, and he was always smiling. Even though his hair was already white, he looked ten years younger. He was well into his exercise and had a powerful physique and though he went on about his supposed washboard stomach I was grateful not to have been provided evidence of it in recent times. “Bloody hell, what’s happened to you? You haven’t been overusing those sunbeds again, have you?”
My face was still burning, though the sores were not quite as obvious as I had feared. My sandpapered face contrasted with Dad’s. I can’t believe my dad actually looks younger than me.
“Funny, Dad. It does look a bit bad though doesn’t it?” I touched my face. “It might be an allergic reaction to this new face wash I’ve been using.” Part truth, part lie. I neglected to tell him that my new face wash was washing-up liquid and mouthwash. “So any ideas what the big announcement is?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Not a clue. You can guess what your mot
her thinks.” Dad raised his eyebrows.
“What, pregnant? Nah, she’s only been with him a couple of months, she’s far too sensible for that…isn’t she?”
“You know what your mother’s like. She worries, she assumes the worst. You know what though, I think I could quite like being a granddad. I know, I know, people will keep saying I look far too young to be a grandparent but if this is the news Jess has in store for us then I would be delighted. Come on, come and see your mum, she’s in the kitchen.”
My sister pregnant, it couldn’t be, could it? I’d never actually met her boyfriend before, like I said they had only been together a short while and Jess was sensible. At the same time, she was the type of person I couldn’t help but admire. She knew what she wanted and went and got it. Takes after Dad in that respect. Maybe being a mum was what she wanted. She’d be a great mum, but how could she want that responsibility at her age? What if her boyfriend left her, what if she got post-natal depression? Come on, stop it, Toby. I was beginning to catastrophise on Jess’s behalf. Jess was made of far sterner stuff than me, she could handle anything.
“Oh Toby, what have you done to yourself?” Mum nearly dropped the tray of roast potatoes she had been holding as she witnessed my new, hopefully temporary look.
“Nice to see you too, Mum.”
“Been on the sunbed, hasn’t he?” chuckled Dad.
“Toby you haven’t, have you? How many times have I warned you about the dangers of those things? There was an article about it in the paper just yesterday. I should have kept it for you. What were you thinking?”
“Relax, Mum, I’m not as vain as Dad. I don’t use sunbeds. I think I’ve just had some reaction to my new face wash.”
Mum moved over to get a closer look at my face. I instinctively turned away, a sense of shame rising in me, but Mum took hold of my face and turned it to her. “You know you’ve got sensitive skin. You have to be careful what you use.” To be fair though, there’s a good chance most people’s skin wouldn’t react well to washing-up liquid. There was no need to point this out to Mum though. “Come here my little man.” I tried to protest at her still calling me that but she invited me into her embrace. I loved my mum, she was the most caring and loving person you could meet. When you looked at her it wasn’t her bobbed dark hair or her glasses it was the kindness which shone through like rays warming the coldest of people. She was a worrier though, but not to the extent I was - or at least not to my knowledge. I was surprised that she hadn’t cut out the article about the sunbeds. She was always giving Jess and I newspaper cuttings as warning of the dangers in the world, whether it be the latest food that could cause cancer or reports of break-ins on our street. It wasn’t all doom and gloom though. For some bizarre reason she also liked to supply us with celebrity news as if we needed to know which celebrities were dating each other. I have from time to time considered whether my condition ran in my family. Is crazyitis hereditary? Jess didn’t appear to have it and Dad definitely didn’t. In fact, Dad’s confidence and happy go lucky character was the ideal antidote to Mum’s caution. They balanced each other out.
“So Jess is pregnant is she, Mum?” I teased, but not for the first time what I thought of as funny did not match the other person’s definition.
“See, I told you Mike.” Mum raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh, what’s she done, the silly girl?” I could see a feeling familiar to me descend upon Mum, weighing her down like a coat of lead.
“Relax, Mum. I was only joking.”
“Come on now, Toby. You know your mother doesn’t do jokes.”
“So she’s not then?”
“No, Mum, she’s not. Well I don’t know; she’s not said anything to me about it.” My attempts at reassuring Mum were having as much success as my attempts to joke with her.
“So she might be. What’s she going to do?” Mum worried about Jess even more than she did about me. She had always felt extra protective of her since the difficulties at her birth. “Right we need to tell her to move back in. She can have her old room. Mike, you can redecorate Toby’s old room and make it into a nursery. Toby you can help.”
“Whoa there, hang on a minute, I didn’t agree to give up my room.”
“Toby you don’t need it. You don’t live here anymore.”
“Yeah but it’s still my room.”
“Oh Toby, don’t be selfish. We have to think about your sister.”
“Sue, Sue, Sue.” Dad calmly interjected. “Sue, darling, we don’t know anything till she tells us. And whatever it is, we, and more importantly she, can handle it. Come here, you big softy.” Dad put his arms around Mum. She tried to shrug him off as she was still agitated and you could tell in her mind she was still planning on Jess’s behalf but she soon melted into his arms. I stood back in admiration of their love for each other. I’m sure Dad’s carefree attitude wound Mum up at times and surely Mum’s fretting bothered Dad, but they worked well together. They listened to each other and respected each other and accepted and loved each other for who they were. My admiration was alloyed with envy; I don’t know if you should feel envious of your parents, but I wondered if I would ever find what they had found in each other. It would be one heck of a tolerant and accepting person who would put up with a mentalist weirdo like me.
Mum and Dad’s original reassuring embrace had somehow morphed into a something bordering on a passionate kiss, or at least enough of a border encroachment to make a son very uncomfortable witnessing it. “Erm guys, I was feeling hungry but you’re starting to put me off my dinner.”
“Hey, I can’t help it with your mum being so flipping sexy.”
The doorbell rang. Literally saved by the bell. “I’ll get it.”
7
As we sat down to dinner it gave me a better chance to study Jess’s new boyfriend. Jez, yes that’s right Jess and Jez, but there could be no confusing these two. Jess had shoulder length blonde hair. She was tall and athletic like Dad and good looking, in a girl next door kind of way, I suppose. Jez was dark and shaggy haired, extremely slim, with big rimmed glasses and pimples which were trying to be discreet and fade away. Jess had always been so outgoing, definitely an extrovert whereas Jez looked so diffident and…square. Oh, and he had gone the extra mile and was wearing a shirt and tie underneath his burgundy knitted tank top. So, Jess’s big announcement was that she was going out with a geek. Dad and I gave each other a childish knowing look when, “Jeremy, but call me Jez” had introduced himself. I was sitting next to Dad and we were opposite Jess and Jez with Mum at the head of the table.
“So nice of you to make an effort and dress up so smartly, Jez,” Mum’s first impression was clearly favourable.
Pride was etched into Jess’s face. “Jez always dresses smartly; his tie is a bit of a trademark.”
“I bet it is, I think you should try that look, Toby, and you might get yourself a girlfriend as beautiful as Jez has.” Dad was an expert at taking the mickey in such a way that his target could never be completely sure that they were having the mick taken out of them. Jess had a fair idea though and she shot Dad an icy glare that she had learnt over the years from Mum.
“And thank you for the flowers, you must tell Mike where you got them from, I don’t think he knows how to buy flowers.” Mum shot Dad her own original and best version of the glare that he had just received from Jess.
“Anyway, I have to ask what the heck is going on with your face, Toby?” It was an easy way to deflect the focus onto me. Jess liked how I didn’t like attention.
“Sunbed,” chorused Mum and Dad.
“You two are hilarious. I think you could be the first husband and wife comedy act to win Britain’s Got Talent.” I said rolling my eyes.
“Well what’s caused it? You do look like you’ve been lying under a grill.” Jess kept pressing.
“Does it matter, Jess,” I snapped. “It’s just some alle
rgic reaction or something.”
“Erm, if you don’t mind me saying, it erm, looks a little like it’s been caused by abrasions or burning. You should get some cream from the pharmacist. It will help your skin recover quicker and will take away some of the burning or, erm, stinging feeling.”
Already feeling irritated, it was my turn to utilise the family glare now and I made Jez feel welcome by directing it at him. “I’m fine thanks, Jez. It will clear up in a couple of days. It always does, and I don’t mean any disrespect, but if I wanted medical advice I would go to a doctor.”
You’ve offended him now. You are cruel and evil. He knows it.
“You’re such a dick Toby, and for your information Jez is a trainee doctor. He’s nearly fully qualified and anyway you don’t need to be a doctor to see that that’s not an allergic reaction. But hey, maybe you do need to see a doctor to see what’s up with you. And no, I’m not talking about your face.”
I knew better than to pick a fight with Jess, but knowing better and doing better were two different things. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” Jess turned her face away from me.
“No, go on.”
“Well…” She glanced at Jez. Why did she glance at Jez? “You’ve got issues.”
“Issues?” I could feel myself flushing heat to actually match the present state of my face. “The only issue I have is my annoying little sister.” I was embarrassed by the lack of depth and the childishness of my response. I needed this conversation to be closed down. I shot a nervous look at Dad.
“Okay, that’s enough you two. You sound like a couple of children. Not the way we behave in this house, especially not in front of guests.” Dad used the tone he used to use when we were kids and had really misbehaved.