Questionable Insanity

Chapter 2: An Evasive Past

I reach for the highly prestigious lounge chair. Engraved from top to bottom, are all manners of shapes, some resembling arms reaching for the feet as I sit myself down and arms that wrap around the head of chair ready to clutch my throat. I respond to Dr. Alistair in calm, but cautious tone.
"I've began to wander more frequently in my mind."
Dr. Alistair's face drops to one of clear disappointment. His disappointment is further reinforced through the clear tutting sound he made that echoes throughout the room more than it should, it's as if the weight of it was unbelievably heavy.
"That is worrying," Dr. Alistair responds in a calm tone. "It is a shame that you are not making progress anymore like you used to be. Perhaps we should visit the past to see if we can uncover the barrier preventing your rehabilitation from progressing." As I hear this I begin to prepare myself as I know what is about to transpire.
Dr. Alistair continues to speak.
"Shall I lead this journey into the past or would you prefer to guide this session? After all it is your past."I begin entering my mind as I let go of my presence in the doctors office.
I awake in my mind as I begin to walk through the empty abyss waiting, waiting for the memories to slowly form so that I can once again experience my long past life. The abyss slowly twists itself into the scene of a ship approaching a city at a slow pace. This is the memory of my arrival at London. It was a warm summer day in 1927, I was a mere teenager with little to no grasp on what I wanted from life and I had decided to move away from Italy in hopes for more successful life in London. The large ship was packed from top to bottom with people from all walks of life. It really gave me a better perspective on how big the world truly was.
As we got off that large ship we marched through the streets of large buildings and shops in hopes for work and housing.
I managed to swindle my way into a simple librarian's assistant job thanks to my blatant interest in books, looking back on it the pay wasn't all that good but the free housing and free access to the books were good enough for me back then, so I continued for a while. I was quite a reclusive person back then as I was always lost in the stories of my books.However, I knew even then the peace was fragile, all things are no matter how strong you think they may be. Well, I was right. The Second World War had began just a few years after my arrival and since I was healthy and young, I was enlisted as to help with the war effort. I was bundled up with a group of misfits who lived around the library, a few of them I had already spoke to.
We were heading to the front lines in France as we made our through the large fields of the country which I had read so much about.
I watched as my misfit band bonded together but... I also watched trucks go past. Trucks with men wounded so severely, a mercy killing could be justified in this day and age. The reason men don't talk about war is most likely because no words can explain the phenomenon of watching people you speak to everyday suddenly take a bullet to their skull and watch as their face mid conversation burst into a bloody pool. At those moments, everything involving that person is gone. That person's future is gone. Many of us died on the front lines. The trenches are made out to be a good defensive position, but what good is a hole in a ground when the enemy pushes through the horrors of our weaponry we dispensed upon them? Our trenches were nothing more than mere mazes for the enemy to hunt us down.
I was covered head to toe in blood and mud carrying a member of my squad towards the far side of the trenches as to sneak away from the conflict. By some miracle, or sick joke, we managed to survive, but what we thought was the end of it, we soon realised was not.
I was there for it. Dunkirk, that is. It was something not even a storybook could capture as the horror of having to cave in another man's skull as you fled to small boats on the coast just to survive another day, is indescribable. I ended up escaping, but the other member of my squad died as he was still injured from the front lines, and well... you can't outrun a bayonet when you can barely feel your legs.Honestly, most of this is blurry to me. It's like my mind blocked out most of it as to prevent me from snapping like the others.
When I returned to London on that fishing boat, we were not treated like heroes. There was no parade, only men marching as if death's gate had just opened. Our faces looked devoid of all emotion, all that remained was the blank canvas which should have feelings on it.
If was at that moment that pure white engulfed the world. That moment, I felt almost as if my body had achieved a new sense of freedom, and with that, it ended, and nearly everyone on those docks were dead. There was barely a handful of us still alive, and before I knew it, I was walking away, subconsciously. I think of this as the start of my problem.
At first, I thought it was ptsd, which people had been talking about, but slowly, I noticed it was more common for me to phase out to that sanctuary which is my mind, and then awake to myself in a place unfamiliar to me.
As I start to remember further I immediately remember the house fire and stop sharing my past with Dr. Alistair. Dr. Alistair notices this, as it has happened before in the past and he says in a slightly happier tone:
"It's good to see you make progress, as you did used to struggle with Dunkirk in the past, so this progress is most delightful. However," Dr. Alistair's tone changes to a more calm, and professional one."It seems you're still struggling with the house fire incident. I know we can talk about what happened on the docks since I was there, but the house fire is a different story. I wasn't there for that and it is clearly the part in your past that is blocking your progress with your rehabilitation."
Even though I dislike it, I must admit Dr. Alistair is correct.
"I know you try hard to help me, but it's still quite prominent in my mind, so I think we should touch on this at a later date. If that's okay with, you Alistair," I respond curtly.
Dr. Alistair pauses, then responds. "I understand your predicament, Mr. Bolinski. I believe rest will be important for now, so be sure to rest a lot until our next appointment. I'll have Angela contact you when we should next meet."
As I stand to leave I deliver a sincere "thanks" and reach for the doorknob.
At that moment. Dr Alistair asks:
"Bolinski, do you think the event at the docks was our punishment for our actions in the war? Was it our fault?"
He asked this in a tone which could be seen as calm, but I can sense the fear in it.
"It was a world wide event, Alistair, it wasn't just the docks. God wouldn't have punished the world for our actions in the war," I answer calmly.
After this is said, I leave the office and facility and begin to light a smoke before I hear a voice from a nearby alleyway.
"What good is blending in when no one is around? If anything you stick out," says an ominously teasing voice.