Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz Series

Origins of A Dark Mind

"Do you hear noises or voices that no one else can hear?" Only sometimes, and only when he needs to tell me something. Telling a psychiatric nurse that I talk to an alternate version of myself from the future about my life in his past which is my present is a sure fire way to get me a longer stay so I keep that bit of information from escaping my lips "No, I only hear your voice" I don't have hallucinations anyway...not really. Just flashbacks, and terrible nightmares and stress and anxiety, and...well a lot of other things that I keep to myself so I don't look like a nut. Maybe without the fear of being psychologically manipulated and with an open mind I might get something out of this experience.

"How many nights a week do you sleep fewer than eight hours?"

"Recently, I've been sleeping about three or four hours a night"

"Are you having trouble going to sleep or staying asleep?"

"Both"

"How many nights a week on average do you and your wife sex?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How sexually active are you and your wife?" Lately, not a whole lot. To be honest I can't actually find the inspiration to erm...perform. I'm not about to admit that to a total stranger though "Uh-we-we make love three or four times a week. Sometimes more" sometimes more then that in one day. I can't imagine my libido on cocaine, Mick swears by the stuff as an aphrodisiac/performance enhancer. I think I'd probably have a heart attack. The nurse clicks her pen clearing her throat "Okay-moving on. I think we can house you as a low risk patient, your medical insurance is top notch and you've already paid the deposit. In the morning you'll have group therapy, then the afternoon you'll have a one on one session with Dr. Freely, he's used to dealing with people in your situation. Celebrities" right I'm a celebrity.

Dinner consists of bland meatloaf and a green salad I pick at it already missing the nice home cooked meals Stevie prepares. She's a wonderful woman, the perfect mate. A caring mother, a good friend. She looks after me, and I'm lost without her. She saved my ass once again, so for that alone I promise myself I won't squander my time here. The truth is I've been unraveling for a while. Learning about Stevie's affair with Petty was the starting point, Sara, this tour, Jeff going into the army, starting a solo career, it's all slowly started to chip away at my subconscious. I've held in so much anger and anxiety I was on a collision course with a breakdown. What happened at Petty's just accelerated things.

I'm allowed to make one phone call before bed and I don't hesitate, it rings once, before Stevie picks up breathless "Lindsey?" hearing her voice brings a smile to my face "Hey sweetheart" the warm endearment rolls off my tongue easily "Are you alright?" moving the sleeve of my shirt up I turn away from the rest of the people in the break room. I'm still desperately trying to maintain the illusion that I'm at home and me and Stevie are talking to each other face to face "I'm in a psych ward, which to be fair is where I probably belong" my pants slip down my waist and I pull them up one handed, no belt and no shoe strings. Just in case I decide to end it all. I'm a lot of things but suicidal isn't one of them, I guess someone who is could take my shoe strings from me so it makes sense to take stuff like that from everyone.

"I love you sweetheart"

"I love you too, just focus on getting better. I already talked to our lawyer he has a meeting with the chief of detectives at the LAPD in the morning. Jeff said he doesn't think there's enough evidence to continue an investigation"

"He doesn't think I'm guilty?"

"No, he doesn't think there's a reason to keep looking into things. Lets leave it at that"