Talk to Me [The Mentalist]

9

Lisbon had visited me once more, but again she was called away to work. Her job was demanding. I had experienced it when I was working that month with them.

Red John. I had tried to call his victims. Lisbon never believed I could really talk to souls. I was quite sorry for her, because I had heard her mum, and even what I thought was her dad. Her mum was just a spirit full of love for her daughter, whilst her father was a huge pile of regret and self-pity.

I figured he must have been an alcoholic or addicted to some other drug, but it was so blurred I couldn't be sure. Her mum again had died no natural death. Murder victims or victims of a car crash were always full of love, sorry for leaving there families behind this soon. It held a remarkable difference to naturally passed away people. And again a huge difference to suicidal.
I would have told Lisbon if she had believed me, but this way I could stick to my decision of abandoning souls.

Since Lisbon had visited I felt more relaxed, but I never got rid of the voices. Damn it, I hated hospitals. Way too many trapped guys! I never got just five minutes of rest and silence.

Well, that was a lie though. I got rest from them. Every time I thought too much about Charlotte and Angela. Like every time I closed my eyes.

God damn shit, I just wanted peace. But, I would never get that anyways. Why should I though? I killed my family. More or less, by insulting this heap of crap. He needed to pay for this. I needed to kill him. No doubt about this matter.

But I needed to find out about his identity. I would find out. I didn't know how I would manage to do so, but I would find a way.

And there was another matter to take care of first. It hurt my pride more than one could ever imagine. But it was necessary, nou doubt about that either.

After I signed the papers to be released from hospital, I walked down the aisle to the entrance. Just outside the door waited a man in a white jacket. "Are you Mr. Patrick Jane?" I nodded my head slightly. "I am."

He waved his hand for me to follow him to his car. "You'll need some clothes. We will go to your house to fetch them." I stopped mid-walking. He wanted me to go back there. No! No way would I set foot in there again! "You are not alone. We're here to help you. Come on, you will manage. We'll take all the time it needs."

Hesitantly I followed him again. When we arrived at the car I saw another person. She was a blonde woman and wore a similar jacket to the man. She greeted me with a smile. "Hi, my name is Sophie Miller. I'll be your therapist." - "Okay. I suppose we'll get along." I spoke slowly. I couldn't make out everything about her on instant, but she seemed to be nice and knowledgeable about my kind of issue.

Sophie sat in the back with me. "It is a good decision to do the therapy, Mr. Jane. You don't need to be ashamed. It's okay to ask for help." I suppose she spoke true, but I still didn't like it.

Somehow I felt sorry for not telling Lisbon, because she genuinely seemed to care.

She knew me for just one month. In a few weeks she wouldn't remember me anyways. Why should she though? I was just another relative of two murder victims. And someone to steal money from people. Of course I didn't always lie, but if some lies were more convincing... What harm would be done if clients were happy? Because then I was happy about the money I earned. But it didn't matter anymore. I would never work in that business again.

Also being a psychic was just one part of the business. There was also hot and cold reading. Take some observation skills and cleverness mixed with some unscrupulousness and here you go: A mentalist and psychic medium.

Supposedly I had destroyed many marriages and relationships. Well, originally I had just confirmed to them what they already knew, for example that they were cheated on.

Lost in thoughts I hadn't realized we already had arrived in Malibu. Sophie and the driver hadn't spoken anymore and I was quite thankful they didn't. Now Sophie turned to face me. "I know this will be hard, but you can do this. We're here to help you. It is just one normal day you're entering your house, okay?"

I tried to nod, but I was too tense. How could this be as just any other normal day? There wasn't anything normal left here. There was a huge fucking smiley face on the wall in my bedroom!

Sophie opened the door and motioned to me to get out. But she didn't walk towards the front door. "Do you have your keys?" I nestled in my pocket and took them out. I wanted to hand her the keys, but she refused. "You keep the keys." I slowly withdrew my hand.

Sophie nodded towards the door and I took one step. The memory of that special night came flooding back. I had left my car on the exact spot were now the psychiatry car was standing. The fear I felt was as real as it was then.

But still something was different. Sophie touched my arm. "It is okay. There is nobody inside. You don't need to fear anything." I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew I needed her help.

Slowly and tensely we made our way to the door and the memories I had tried to shut out came flooding back in an instant. I saw myself pushing open the door – and ran against it when it didn't open.

Sophie took my arm again. "Patrick, you need to unlock it." My vision cleared and I glanced down on the keys in my hands. "The door wasn't locked." She watched me puzzled. But just for one second. I wasn't even sure if I had imagined her puzzled expression. I was too busy with my own mind.

"It is now. This is completely different to your memories." I took the keys to the lock and turned them to hear the familiar click. I pushed open the door and expected to see darkness, but, of course in early midday, it was brightly sunlighted.

I spotted the staircase and cautiously approached it. So far I had managed well. No panic attack for almost 24 hours. That was a new record.

With Sophie just behind me I stepped on the first step and panted. Even though it looked different to that horrible night I felt the same exasperation. My hands trembled as I grabbed the railing.

Sophie murmured soothingly behind me, kept reminding me I wasn't alone. She had something in her making me trust her. I managed to climb half of the stairs without pausing.

But then it was too much again. I could just peek over the top and see the doors in the hallway. Some were left open, others closed. The bedroom door was closed.

Even though the note didn't stick there anymore, I saw it. Even though I was at least ten meters away, I could see the letters clearly. I screamed. It was more than I could bear. I felt Sophie's hand stabilizing my back, but I fell over screaming. Tears ran down my face.

The horror was too vivid in my mind.