Time and Time Again

Chapter 2

'How long has it been,' Dr. Taylor said softly, 'since you last saw –,' he paused momentarily, 'the ghosts?' Simon sat opposite his psychologist stoically, staring at him but seeming unwilling to respond. Dr. Taylor glanced down at a sheet of paper he'd pulled from a folder, 'it says here it was when you were in Primary School. How long ago was that?'

'Ten – eleven years maybe', Simon said with no emotion in his voice.

'And there's been nothing in that time?'

'No.' Simon's stare didn't waver.

Dr. Taylor looked up from the notes left by Simon's previous psychologist, unnerved by the intensity in Simon's eyes. 'I'm just trying to acquaint myself with your case better. I've got all the notes here but it would be better to hear it from you; how it is now.' He smiled, hoping Simon would either reciprocate or at least soften his stare a little.

'There's been nothing since I moved house – school,' Simon cleared his throat and swallowed loudly before continuing, 'I can't be alone. I barely sleep – I have to keep the light on – and the radio. Noises in other rooms make me nervous. If I see something in the corner of my eye, just out of view, I feel that – panic.' Simon paused and took a few shallow breaths.

'It's ok. Just take your time.' The doctor smiled once more but he noted that none of his facial expressions had any effect on Simon's demeanour.

Simon recovered control enough to continue, 'I made new friends at the school I moved to and around where I live.'

'What about when you left school? Qualifications?'

'I got some CGSEs; Science, maths – not enough to go to 6th form or college.'

'So what did you do?'

'My dad got me a job with the council. Parks. Planting flowers in local villages, cutting grass – ', Simon's gaze moved up to the window behind the doctor for a moment; he allowed a thought to occur before he closed it down and continued, 'I'm just waiting for it to happen again. I know it wasn't just an episode. They're still there – you just can't see them.' Simon fell silent, his gaze moved to his hands which were squeezed together on his lap, his knuckles turning white.

'What do you do for fun then?', Dr. Taylor said brightly.

Simon looked up, slightly taken aback by the shift in tone. He cleared his throat and took a moment before answering, 'I have my guitar. I play whenever I'm feeling on edge – like I could have a panic attack. Takes me away from all that.'

'Are you any good?'

'That doesn't matter.'

'Why not? Don't you want to join a band or play in a bar or something?'

'And what happens when I start seeing them again?' Simon became visibly agitated.

'You're not on medication and you're not seeing anything. You haven't since you moved away from your old life. I think we can safely attribute what happened to you to an association with where you used to live. A trauma. Maybe something that happened that you blocked out – something you can't even remember happening?' Dr. Taylor paused for some kind of reaction but soon continued when one didn't come, 'You're going to be ok, you know?'

'That's what my parents tell me all the time. They can't tell me why I don't feel like I'll ever feel normal. They can't tell me why I feel like I've got no future – like everything that was supposed to happen to me, everything good, just isn't happening because I'm too scared to go anywhere alone.'

Dr. Taylor dropped the positive manner and lowered his voice, 'look, do you want me to refer you to a Psychiatrist? They could prescribe you something to deal with the anxiety and it could even give you the confidence and drive and ambition to go out and do something that would give you purpose in your life. It seems to me that you have no confidence in applying yourself to anything in case whatever the past trauma that caused your breakdown comes back.'