Thief of Mind

by Ben Thomas

  “Yeah, well, I just don’t feel like drinking. Was feeling a bit queasy before.”

  “Yep, hangovers will do that to you.”

  “Whatever. Besides it’s part of my health regime to prepare to conquer Kilimanjaro. Jez keeps going on… ‘do you realise how much of a challenge this is going to be, Jessica?’”

  “Ha, that’s a pretty good impression.” I placed my napkin on my lap and then summoned the courage to ask, “so, erm, how is Jez?”

  “Great, thanks.” Jess stared at me impassively.

  She knows you want death to come to him.

  “He told me he called round to see you.”

  He told her you’re evil.

  “Right…what did he say?”

  “Nothing much really, he said that he likes you…” I felt a nudge of relief and satisfaction, “but he says he doesn’t think you like him. Why would he think that, Toby?”

  She knows you want him to die

  I shuffled in my chair and started twisting the table cloth round my fingers as I tried to neutralise the attack whilst trying to formulate a response.

  “I, I do like him. He’s a good guy. Why did he say I don’t like him?”

  “He didn’t. For some reason he said you’re a ‘top man’ but maybe you don’t feel the same way about him.”

  “That’s rubbish…and anyway, you shouldn’t have revealed the secret knock.”

  “Oooh, the ‘secret knock’! Come on, Toby. Get over yourself. So, go on. Why don’t you like my boyfriend?”

  “He’s just being paranoid.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What’s ‘hmm’ supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Forget about it. Look, Jez is himself a ‘top man’ with a massive heart and you two have so much in common. I just want you both to get on. Just give him a chance, Toby. You’ll like him, I promise.”

  “I do like him, Jess. Honestly I do. It’s just…”

  “Here are your drinks,” a waitress interrupted, calling a halt to the awkwardness, “and may I take your orders?”

  I ordered my usual lasagne before Jess decided that she had become a fussy eater and started interrogating the waitress on the ingredients of pretty much every dish on the menu. Whilst she deliberated I cast my mind back to last night. I realised something: I had felt happy. Happy being with my friends again, happy dancing, happy spending time with Bobby. Sure, there have been transient moments of happiness over the last ten or so years since leaving school, but this ‘current’ feeling of happiness had been sustained for a longer period. I smiled to myself. Bobby was right, smiling did make you feel good.

  “What are you smiling at? I’m allowed to be choosy about what I eat. Like I said, I’m on a health drive.”

  “No, it’s not that,” I said still smiling.

  “Go on…”

  “Do you remember Bobby Stacey?”

  “Blobby Bobby?”

  “Bit rude, Jess…anyway, I went out last night with him and a load of my old mates.”

  “What? I thought, A, you don’t go out and B, you don’t have mates.”

  “Don’t be such a dick, Jess. I do have mates. It’s just I hadn’t seen them for a while. Anyway, it was a big charity night organised by Kev’s business.”

  “Kev? Wow.” Jess’s jaw had dropped, a bit dramatically if you ask me. “You haven’t mentioned him for years. Who else was there?”

  “You remember Darren, Pete, Louise, Dave, Al Hall, Ryan and Helen Reynolds?”

  “Helen Reynolds? Eurgh. Is she still up her own arse?”

  “She’s alright, Jess. You don’t even know her.”

  “Yeah, but I know who she is. I see her out and about sometimes, loving herself. And she writes a column in a mag…well bitchy.”

  “Anyway… it was a top, top night. Even though they hadn’t seen me in ages they were all so cool.” It was true. I was lucky, really, that they remembered me as I was, rather than what I had become. They still saw me as one of them, someone who had something worthwhile to say and contribute, someone who had self-confidence and could achieve. They didn’t pick up on the fact that I was someone who had achieved nothing of any note, a person who had gradually had his mind stripped of all confidence, courage, charisma and control. Someone who had surrendered his mind to a malevolent presence that now dictated his life.

  “Wasn’t Al in the Olympics?”

  “Yeah, apparently so. But they’ve all done so many awesome things: been to the Olympics, ran their own business, amazing acts of charity, parents, ran their own private equity fund worth millions of pounds…maintained friendships…” I paused and looked down at the table.

  “Hey, face ache, what’s up?”

  “It’s just, well, you know, I haven’t come close to accomplishing any of those things.” I hadn’t even had sex. All I was good at was sitting on the couch drinking cups of tea. I was a thirty-three-year-old jobless virgin whose closest companion was a monster that I hated but had allowed to live unchallenged in my head. “If my friends knew what I was like now they wouldn’t be bothered with me.” No, they would say, ‘Do you remember Toby? Well, apparently he’s a loony now. Just sits in his house checking taps and locks and muttering to himself. An absolute weirdo.’

  “Stop being such a mismog. You’ve achieved loads.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, let me see: head boy, star rugby player, cricketer, mum and dad’s favourite.”

  “I think we both know you’re their favourite, and thanks for making it clear that none of my achievements have occurred since I left my teenage years.”

  “That’s not true…you’ve got a house and a job.”

  “Wow. I am so special.”

  “Okay, if you’re determined to feel that way, then why is that? You’ve got so much going for you. You’re so talented. Why have you gone from hero to zero whilst your mates have done so much?”

  “I don’t know, it’s just the way it is. It’s easier for others than it is for me.” My friends didn’t have this invisible handicap. They weren’t plagued by an unseen daily horror. They didn’t have him constantly pecking their heads asking: ‘What if, what if, what if?’ What if I was in Hell? What if I caused my family to go to Hell? What if I cause harm to someone? What if I leave the gas on and cause the whole of my street to explode? What if I left my computer on when I was at work and someone has sent malicious email out seeming irrefutably to be from me? What if I had left the taps on in the hotel I had stayed at and was responsible for the ensuing flood? What if I caused Kev’s mum to die of cancer? What if I thought the bad words when I got on the train and I caused its derailment, killing all the passengers? What if I hadn’t showered properly and people thought I stank as well as being mad? A stinky mad man. I wanted to explain this to Jess, but I couldn’t; she just wouldn’t understand.

  Our food arrived and with it an unsurprising change in direction of the conversation back to Jess. As we ate, and as I seemingly listened to Jess, I felt irritation grow in me. I was happy for my friends but none of them could understand what it’s like for me. I’d like to know how they would have coped if he had chosen to live in their minds. They might not be so successful then. If he had possessed one of them instead of me, then I would have been free to live my life. I would have been able to regale them with stories of all the travel I’d done, all the rugby matches I’d won, how I’d won the Nobel Peace Prize, and look at my beautiful wife and perfect children. Then I could judge them with pity and contempt because they were too weak to control their minds. I would judge them for making excuses, for being a victim, for feeling sorry for themselves, for having no backbone, for not getting on with life. I would have judged them because…

  You want your friends to die

  His attack came just as I forked a big helping of lasagne into my mouth. I couldn’t swallow it n
ow, not with the evil thought present. I took my napkin and under the guise of blowing my nose I spat the contaminated mouthful into the napkin and balled it up on my side plate. I took a surreptitious look at Jess. Good, she hadn’t noticed. I picked up my fork and tried again.

  Death will come to them

  I froze just as the fork reached my lips and pulled it away slightly.

  Bless.

  I moved the fork back towards my lips.

  Death will come.

  I pulled the fork away from my mouth.

  Blessed blessings bless me.

  I opened my mouth and tried to force myself to eat.

  Death.

  Bless me, bless them.

  “Ahem! What are you doing? You look like you’re performing a sex act with the lasagne. It can’t taste that good.”

  “Shut up, Jess,” I snapped. I felt myself go bright red and looked around to see if anyone had heard.

  They have heard.

  “Whoa. Chill, bro.”

  “You’re not funny, Jess. What if someone heard?” I looked round again, then quietly said, “I don’t want people thinking I do weird stuff with food.”

  “You are joking, right?”

  “I just didn’t think it was funny.”

  “It looked funny what you were doing.”

  “It was just a bit hot, okay? Stop going on about it.”

  “I’m not going on about it, you are…anyway, Mr Psycho.”

  She knows you’re mad

  “I’m not a psycho,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “No, no you’re not, Toby. I get it. Let’s just move on…that is, unless you want some quiet time with your lasagne?” I didn’t want to – I tried keeping my face stern so Jess knew she’d overstepped the mark – but I found myself suddenly laughing along with her. We both knew I was being a dick. “Well I like it much better when you’re laughing.”

  “I’m sorry, Jess. I was being overly sensitive. Go on, what were you saying before I started getting intimate with my meal?”

  “I was saying that I actually bumped into Kev a couple of days ago.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, on Bridge Street.”

  “Did you speak to him? Did he remember you?”

  “Course he remembered me. Our paths tend to cross every so often, and when they do we have a chat. I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “What did he have to say for himself?”

  “Small talk, really. Telling me about his business… asking how I was getting on…I told him about Kilimanjaro. He told me about this charity do you mentioned. He didn’t let on that you were going, though.”

  “No, that’s because he didn’t know. Bobby stage managed the evening in order for it to be a big emotional surprise for everyone. He thinks he’s Cilla Black.”

  “Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter, she’s before your time. Thing is, it turns out Kev wasn’t that pleased to see me.”

  “Why?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Well he seemed quite interested in you. Was asking how you’re getting on. I’ve never understood why you don’t see that lot anymore.”

  “We just drifted apart. And as you can tell, Kev is too big time for me anyway.”

  “Is he bollocks. You need to regain some self-belief. Just stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with life. It’s been obvious for ages that you’re not happy with yourself, so you need to go and do something about it.” Jess said it so matter of factly.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Course it is. You can do whatever you like. Look at me. Who would have thought I’d be climbing a mountain? This girl ain’t ever going to let anyone or anything stop her from achieving what she wants to achieve. All you need is to work out what you want to do, ask yourself why you want to do it, find out how to do it, then do it. Easy peasy.”

  I leant back in my chair and appraised my sister. “I wish I was more like you, Jess.”

  “I don’t blame you, I am pretty special. But you are too. I mean, you do have my genes. You’ve just got to give it a go.”

  *

  Having managed to finish my lasagne like a normal human and having paid for the meal, Jess dropped me back home where I was finally able to have my cup of tea. I thought about Jess’s audition for the role of a self-help guru. She was right, I haven’t moved on in life. While she and my friends have embraced life, I’ve been treading water in an ocean of doom, my mind imprisoned by a monster who only very occasionally grants visiting rights to hope. Sometimes I do manage a jail break. I make a run for it and have a brief sense of freedom, like at times last night, but I always return. He doesn’t even need to chase me. I can’t live without him. I need him. He keeps me safe. He protects others from the harm I could cause. I have been institutionalised, tamed. Broken. And yet…I do still hope. Hope that one day I will be cured. Hope that one day he will release me. Surely I have served my time?

  Fleeting moments of happiness give me a taste of what life could be like. I am happy for the success and contentment my friends have, and there is no reason why I couldn’t do what they have done if I could be free. I want to be free. Can I be free? The slivers of freedom he allows me are a cruel game he plays to torment me further, because he believes I won’t rebel. What he may not realise is that just as my anxiety feeds his appetite, those tastes of freedom feed my desire for a normal life. A lot of people harbour ambitions for an extraordinary life. I’d be happy to lead an ordinary life. Surely I can. Surely I can beat him.

  I could feel a union of hope and anger building in me. This is my life; it is my mind. He has no rights. I must be able to do it. These things don’t affect the others, so why should they affect me? My sister doesn’t worry about locking doors. Bobby’s not scared to say the bad words. Julie doesn’t re-check the letters she writes at work. It’s all lies. I know it deep down, I know it. Yes, you are clever. Yes, you are persuasive. Yes, you are a master of deception. But you are just a liar and a bully. I know what you are, and I know that bullies need standing up to. Enough is enough.

  So now hear this. Today I, Toby Brammall, am making a stand. From now on, I am going to fight you harder. You are not welcome in my life. You are not in charge of my mind. Your tricks won’t work with me. I am over you. You are not welcome any more. I am stronger than you. I will beat you and I am taking back my life.

  I had decided.

  Right! Okay…to beat him, I had to be smarter than him. I cast my mind back to the times when he had taken leaves of absence, or at least had been quiet. Being drunk on nights out had often worked, but that wasn’t a strategy for everyday use. Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol. Maybe it was the atmosphere and the company. I recognised that my anxiety levels spiked in anticipation of doing things such as going out meeting people, doing an important piece of work, watching a vital England rugby match, leaving the house unoccupied for a period of time. That was why I had to do all the relevant safety rituals, to help prevent harm. The specific fear subsided though when I found something new to worry about, or when I got distracted by a task or activity. Like an itch you forgot about when you got absorbed in something else.

  For instance, I was stressing about the gas being off before I went to the reunion, but once I got to the hotel with Bobby, it hadn’t really crossed my mind again till now. A few days earlier, I was worried that people at work thought I had the runs, but again it hadn’t crossed my mind in the last few days. Looking back on them, I could see both examples were ridiculous things to worry about. I had the capacity to note what was rational and what was irrational, and easing one worry by replacing it with another worry was a vicious circle; not a strategy to live by. So more distractions were needed.

  I needed to force myself to get out in the world and meet people and do things. Being at home ha
d always felt like a refuge, as I could control the environment better, but in reality I was vulnerable because I was alone with him and I couldn’t escape his attention.

  I knew I had an override function where I could stop the compulsions or take action when the bad word said I couldn’t. But the override only worked infrequently, and only when other people were around and I had no option but to take action or else cause myself ultimate embarrassment. For example, going in and out of a room more than a couple of times whilst with a group of colleagues would be perceived as odd, so I forced myself not to do it, then spent the next few hours wondering what type of harm would greet me as a consequence of my violation of his rules. So I could at times overrule him, but only when others were around.

  So that was the key. I needed to be around people more, for more distraction and to force me to activate the override mechanism. Being made redundant didn’t really help on the ‘being around people’ front, but I could take Bobby up on his idea of ‘Bobitivities,’ whatever they were.

  I got out my phone and texted Bobby to ask when the Bobitivities started. Next I messaged Mum to arrange to go round for dinner. Then, since I had some momentum and without thinking it through, I decided to text Helen:

  GREAT SEEING YOU AGAIN. YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO MEET UP. LET ME KNOW WHEN IS GOOD FOR YOU. TOBY.

  I could sense him murmuring away, whispering that I had thought the bad word before and after. Well, maybe I had, but I had sent the text now and there wasn’t much he or I could do about it. So distraction was going to be one of my weapons to overthrow his rule. And now that I was going to overthrow him, he would need to live by my rules.

  I could see that at times he talked sense. It is fair enough to check the locks, the gas and taps; I think this is normal and most people would do it. What isn’t normal is taking an hour to complete the checks. So I agreed that from now on I was only going to check anything three times. That would be sufficient to ensure everything was in order. I wasn’t ready to take any risks with the bad words, so as added protection I made myself a card with different texts I had found which contained the good word. I also downloaded songs I knew had the good word in them. So every morning when I woke up I could play the music first thing and read my cards so my first exposure each day would be to the good word. If out and about I heard, read, or thought the bad word then the new rule was that reading or hearing the good word three times would definitely cancel out the bad word and the contamination would be gone.