Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26953391-20150902222802

I had a rough childhood. Growing up, I was a quiet, fearful child, often flinching away from the shifting of shadows. I was home-schooled as well, so I very rarely had social interaction with anyone outside of my adoptive parents. Despite my predicament, which I imagine would grow grating as the years went on, my mother and father were surprisingly supportive, even into puberty.

It was around that time that my nervousness and anxiety worsened to such a degree that my parents finally decided to bring up the issues to my doctor. After a prolonged visit, and meeting with a variety of strange adults who asked me weird questions, I was diagnosed with mild to severe paranoid schizophrenia. Evidently, this was the cause for my increasing cowardice in the face of nothing, and indeed I had often had a feeling that people conspired against me.

From that point, we began a long process of treatment. Taking medication, meeting with doctors, and quite a bit of moral support from home, all of this working to better my mental health. Although I was presented the option to ingratiate myself into society by going to public high school, I declined, preferring the comfort of home, and the warm hospitality of my parents.

My most vivid memories of this time come towards the end. Almost an adult, and much better off than when we had begun, things were looking great. Around this time, the doctor that I visited every week retired. I was saddened by this, but he assured me that he would check up on me to keep an eye on my progress and make sure to get me the best professionals to replace him.

And so I was introduced to my therapist, Dr. Gellding. A middle aged man, of significant height and ancient fashion sense, with hair dangerously close to developing a bald spot. When I sat across from him, he gave me a smile that seemed as though it had been practiced. Despite that, he gave an introduction that felt genuine, so I figured he would be a nice enough man. Session after session, he would ask me about my fears, my wants, my ambitions, and so on. He had a tendency towards cheesy metaphors, but nonetheless he did help me along the final stretch towards normalcy.

Then, one day, he failed to show up to the session. At first I was annoyed with his harsh abandonment, but anger turned to worry when I learned that nobody had been able to contact him either. He lived alone, and he had little family to speak of, so there weren't many leads to where he could have disappeared to. For four days, the community searched for any trace of Gellding, creating an anxious atmosphere in the town. Then, five days after the initial disappearance, Dr. Gellding just nonchalantly showed up for work. When questioned, he would only say that he had been on vacation, despite never mentioning it to anyone.

Strangely, he scheduled a session with me, and insisted that he could work despite the bizarre circumstances. At the time, I was just glad that he had returned safely, and agreed to meet him. When the time came and I arrived, the very moment I entered his office I felt as though something was off. Attributing it to a resurgence of my paranoia due to the stress of the last week, I sat in my seat, and waited for Dr. Gellding to spin his chair around to look at me.

After a minute or so, he did as much. Looking at me, he had none of that familiar warmth, none of the fatherly happiness and protectiveness in his expression. It was difficult to see his eyes, as the sun glared into his glasses with great aplomb throughout. Dr. Gellding remained silent, and merely nodded, signalling that I should begin talking.

Hesitating momentarily, I went on to describe the stress of the time during his disappearance, while touching on the preparations we were making for me to move into a house of my own. Throughout my spiel, I would glance up occasionally to see how he was reacting. I don't recall him ever changing his expression. At the end, he nodded solemnly and wrote on a small piece of paper. He quietly handed it to me and signalled that the session was over by turning away from me.

I sat awkwardly for a few moments, confused by his stoic silence and sudden change in demeanor. I tried not to think about it too hard, worried that I would let myself succumb to my delusions again. When I was about to open the door to leave, I heard him say something.

"Malcolm.", slightly startled, I froze at the sound of my name. Turning, I found that Gellding had brought his gaze upon me, and I could clearly see his eyes. Deep purple bags hung under them, and his gaze seemed entirely empty. He opened his mouth to speak again.

"Nobody is watching you.", a pause.

"Nobody is coming for you.", a pause.

"Nobody is going to kill you.", a pause, this time only ending when I gave a quiet thanks and walked out.

As I closed the door, I caught one last glimpse of Dr. Gellding. He looked as though he were on the verge of crying. Creeped out by the whole affair and growing more anxious, I began to walk to the front desk with the paper he handed me. After half a minute of anxious speed-walking, I came up to the receptionist and handed her the paper, looking accusingly around at nothing in particular as I waited.

"Congratulations! It's always good to see that we can really help people. Good luck out there, young man.", the receptionist said happily, a white smile spreading across her face. I was confused, but finally began to piece together the whole experience when she handed me the paper. Bringing my gaze down upon it, I read that, apparently, I was no longer in need of therapy and could survive on just medication from now on. I smiled bittersweetly at the idea that Dr. Gellding had grown fond enough of me to become saddened by my departure, and left the building triumphantly.

Thereafter, we geared up for my move. After a couple months, we finally found a good place that wasn't monstrously expensive, and I excitedly began the rest of my life. Living alone proved to not be as difficult as I had first worried. I was still rather close to my parents house, and there were no neighbors for me to become suspicious of. Overall, my first two months alone went smoothly.

It was the third month that something changed. Ever since we had began treatment, I had been on a number of drugs that, alongside making me more calm and less jumpy, made it so that I had a calming, dreamless sleep. Unfortunately, around this time I started having recurring nightmares. Worst of all, a particularly nasty set was returning from my childhood of a shadowy man following me. After a week of trying to ignore it, the nightmares finally reached a crescendo when I dreamt that the shadowy figure had finally caught me, and proceeded to brutalize me.

That night, I woke up in a cold sweat. Slowly rising from my resting position, I looked at the nightstand and discovered that it was almost three o'clock. All of my old fears began to crop up, and I started to weave the idea of a grand conspiracy that had it out for me. I thought about how my old doctor had passed away last year, and how I never heard anything about Dr. Gellding after that last strange day. Worst of all, I started to think about how rarely my parents called or texted me, and began conjuring all sorts of awful deaths they could have suffered since our last interaction.

I got up hurriedly, creeping over to the kitchen to grab my phone. Navigating with the help of the moonlight, I discovered my cell phone resting on the counter next to the fridge. I nearly dove over to it, and grabbed it with my shaky hands, and typed out message to my mother. As I lowered the phone, I started to breath deeply, a technique that I recalled from my adolescence. I was shaken out of my fearful stupor by the sound of my phone vibrating. I lifted the phone and peered at the screen.

"Nobody is coming for you, Malcolm." the text read in the darkness. I smiled, nostalgia flooding my mind as I thought of the warm home I spent most of my life in. Then, I felt a strange sense of deja vu as I recalled that Dr. Gellding said those exact words to me. I tumbled with a number of ideas that explained that, for some reason not thinking it could be a coincidence.

Suddenly, I heard a sharp knocking upon my door, echoing into the kitchen through the living room. Briefly forgotten paranoia resurfaced, and I could feel a growing anxiety tearing at my heart. Despite myself, I began to walk over to the entrance, working up the courage to open the door. I had to show myself there was nothing to worry about, calm myself so I could get through this episode. I began to wordlessly recite Gellding's final words to me, "Nobody is watching you. Nobody is coming for you. Nobody is going to kill you."

Finally, I was within reach. With a renewed sense of vigor, I casually opened it. Looking out into the night, I saw a figure standing a few feet away from me. The person had their back to me, but for some reason I couldn't focus my vision on what they were wearing. As I took in the sight, I could feel my heart thump quicker and quicker. Weakly, I threw out an accusatory question.

"Who are you?", I heard myself squeak in the direction of the mysterious personage. Horror in my heart, the man turned to me without moving, and spoke without a mouth.

"Me?", came a response, resounding in every crevice of my mind, yet unheard in actuality. Arms enough for twenty men sprung out from the formless creature, grabbing at my throat and tightening quickly. As my vision grew hazier and my consciousness fuzzier, I comprehended one last silent utterance before blackness consumed my mind.

"Nobody." 