The Dark Knight Of The Soul

Chapter One

"I think I'm actually going mad!" I exclaimed, nervously wringing my hands and rocking slightly in the chair. I looked into the doctor's eyes, searching for some validation to my plea. I used to be bright and bubbly. Yet now, every time I looked in the mirror, I felt like I had aged ten years. My eyes looked deep and sullen, and the dark circles were evident. I glimpsed at myself in the reflection on the silver shiny, desk tidy. God I looked exhausted. I suddenly remembered something and gasped as I brought my hand up to my mouth as I recalled another bizarre incident that occurred last week. "It's my memory.....it's really bad....I can't remember simple things. Last week I put dishwasher salts in the washing machine!" my eyebrows rose up and my jaw dropped in disbelief. I could feel the sting of bitter tears pooling up in my eyes. I felt myself take a huge breath in, to try and stop the emotions from spilling out of my eyes and down my cheeks.
Doctor Hamill handed me a box of tissues that were perched on the edge of his desk. He nodded as he listened to my distress, his eyes warm and genuine as he looked on me in my anxious state. "Could you have got a little distracted when you were doing the washing maybe, and it was an accident?" he suggested dismissively. He was a stout man, aged in his fifties with grey, receding hair. He leant his elbows on the desk and pressed his hands together as if he was about to pray, locking his fingers but keeping the two index fingers straight, which made the shape of a steeple. He pressed them against his lips as he listened to my distress.
My hands were trembling as I took a tissue from the box and lightly patted underneath my eyes. "No....it wasn't an accident. Everything I do is wrong... I can't seem to get a grip of myself... I burst into tears at the slightest thing. Last week I was at the self-service checkout at the supermarket, a rare occasion for me. I usually do the shopping online, but I forgot some of the groceries again and the damn thing kept stopping and asking for assistance, I was getting so nervous in the shop and I was getting agitated that I was going to be late home. I just exploded and took my temper out on this piece of machinery, I even kicked it. How mad is that," my voice rambled as I recalled the event, panic rose in my chest and my heart started pumping faster. "Then I burst into tears, probably because I made a right spectacle of myself...then I went home, oh god, I had left one of the kitchen windows open again. I check the doors and windows at least three times before I leave the house.... I think there's a ghost haunting me... My dreams are becoming more frightening, sometimes I don't want to go to sleep, it's always dark in my dreams," I started shaking as I recalled the last dream I had and quickly pushed the horror aside. "I can't concentrate on anything, I used to love baking cookies and cupcakes, I can't measure the ingredients right. My taste has completely gone? I'm useless at everything now....and oh dear lord, If I put too much salt in the dinner! Harrison gets really angry," I paused taking another gulp of air. "He has this liver complaint you see, and too much salt makes him very poorly....I could of killed him?" I cried, the tears were falling freely down my cheeks now, anxiety was palpable in the air and I waved my hand helplessly in the air. I looked up to the ceiling, "oh Jesus, someone up there doesn't like me," I heaved a great sigh. "It's the medication. It's not working," I appealed. "You've got to do something, it's not working."
"What's the liver complaint that he has?" Doctor Hamill enquired, intrigued by this condition.
"Oh I don't know, some rare disorder he has, he told me after we married about how poorly he became as a young child and that he was on life support for two weeks because of this....liver thingy.. rare disease that he has?" I replied, blowing my nose.
Dr Hamill looked puzzled and I was oblivious as to why he had that look on his face. "Are you having any more suicidal thoughts of hurting yourself," he asked gently, and I shook my head, dabbing the tissue under my eyes. I wanted to launch myself forward into the doctor, hoping he would hug me tightly and soothe away my angst. "Do you still feel like someone is watching you?"
"I don't know?" I answered helplessly. I was truly on the edge of my life right now. I had to come to the surgery which was traumatic enough.
"Ok." he intervened, "the medication you currently take is quite a medium dose, lets increase the dosage to 60mg and see if that helps. It will take a couple of weeks to see any effect so you will need to be patient." He replied as he tapped away into the keyboard. "Have you had any response to the referral I made to the community mental health team?"
"Yes, I had a letter last week, saying they wanted to call out to see me. The appointment is next Monday," I replied, still anxious but my rocking was subsiding now.
Dr Hamill nodded as he reached to the computer and signed the prescription, "Hopefully they will be able to help." He smiled, kindly as looked at him helplessly, "I will also add some sleeping tablets to help you get some rest. They are highly addictive, so I only want to prescribe for a week."
I felt a rush of relief, the tension in my face was starting to relax. "Do you think I'm going mad doctor?" I asked quietly, I was frightened the Doctor was going to confirm my worst fear. That I was going insane! Dr Hamill shook his head, his eyes softened as he looked at me. "No. I believe some of the nightmares you've been having are related to post-traumatic stress disorder and the community health team are excellent with this type of condition. You have had quite a few traumatic events lately, so please don't be too hard on yourself. The community team will be able to help." Dr Hamill smiled warmly and made a brief note on the computer. He signed the second prescription and handed it to me.
I took a deep breath and placed the green paper in my bag, dabbing my eyes again before rising from the seat, "thank you Doctor," I replied gratefully, my eyes blazing with despair. I rummaged in my bag and located the car keys and grasped them tightly in my hand, then flicked the bag over my shoulder and walked out of the consultation room. As I quietly closed the door behind, I kept my head low, staring at the floor and increased my pace of walk. My heart thumped so loudly with each step as I left the building. I was practically running to the car that was parked across the road. Fumbling with my car keys, I pressed the unlock button and quickly stepped into the car, my heart pounding as I climbed into the driver's seat and quickly locked the doors.
Breathe Jenny, Breathe.
The traumatic event in the car six months ago replayed over in my mind and I never felt safe until I was in my car and driving. Even getting out my car provoked a panic attack.

Once home, I paced through each room and checked nothing had moved. I checked the windows were closed and hurried into the kitchen, I anxiously checked the time on the kitchen clock again. It was quarter past three, I needed to get the dinner on soon, ready for when Harrison would be home from work. It was Wednesday, he went out to play squash on a Wednesday. I went into the utility room and felt a hand clutch at my chest, the top window in the small utility room was open. I replayed my steps to when I left the house, I remembered checking the back door, I'm sure I looked up to the window. I'm certain I did check it was closed. I felt a sick heavy feeling in my stomach, knotting up. I ran upstairs to check nobody was in the house. I rechecked all the windows again, panic flooded my veins and my head started to feel thick and heavy. Upstairs all looked ok, I trembled as I took each step downstairs, hyper vigilant I was looking and listening for the slightest sound or movement. I could hear the kitchen clock ticking as I walked in and saw the picture that sat on the kitchen window sill. It was the two of us on the beach on our wedding day in the Seychelles. I loved to look at this picture every day. It greeted me in the morning, when I was preparing breakfast and it always reminded me of the good times we shared, every time I looked at it, I reminded myself of how wonderful life had been. Harrison was so attentive to me then, treated me like a princess. We had only been dating for six months before we got married. It was a whirlwind romance and I just knew he was the one, the love of my life. He wanted everything that I wanted, he believed in the same things that I did, we shared the same values. He was too good to be true, I found my true love and I hoped nothing was going to stop our destiny together.

He was so powerful and confident, I felt so protected by him. His charisma was enchanting to any woman. We met at a friend's party in the summer. I remember the night so well. He wore a crisp white short sleeved shirt and chino shorts. He had great legs too, brown from a recent holiday abroad. I remember we sat talking for hours about where we had travelled and where we both wanted to go. He had been to so many places and experienced so many cultures, I was almost envious of him. My friends were going onto another party and I was so engrossed with talking to Harrison, I waved them off and said I would catch up with them the following day. I was mesmerized with him that night, he listened to me so attentively that we lost track of time.  After the night we met he pursued me relentlessly, he text and called me several times a day with sweet messages. He called me every night to ask how my day was, he sent flowers to my work and bought me jewelry and gifts. I felt so lucky to have found my soul mate. We were inseparable within weeks. The passion and intensity were totally mind blowing, I was totally consumed by him. It was the complete opposite to what we have now, I know relationships go through their bad times, but lately, we had been plagued with despair and grief one after another. Last year Harrison had a cancer scare, which turned out benign, then he was attacked by some thugs in a bar, he suffered a broken nose and leg. He's had a bad back ever since, he keeps attending the hospital for regular MRI scans and check up with the specialist. Then my dog died, earlier this year. I was mugged when driving my car, which had kept me off work since the incident and my car was stolen. The insurance was invalid, as Harrison forgot to send off the renewal policy.  My savings left by my grandmother in her will, dwindled down, now there's nothing left. Life has been one major drama after another, how the hell does peace ever get a chance?
I started to clean the toilet and bathrooms, cleaning kept my hands busy and I'd convinced myself that I would be able to detect if someone was here more easily.
I finished cleaning the bathroom and washed my hands, I could feel the puffiness around my fingers where they were swollen, from where I had to squeeze my engagement and wedding ring off. They were too tight and I'd needed to get them stretched, the jewelers must have finished them by now. I made a mental note to call by tomorrow to pick them up before Harrison noticed they were missing.
Oh god, I have to go out again?