Mr Hook's Big Black Box

Marco Schmidt: Midnight Confession

"Not really," Monty said, as we got to the spare room on the first floor, "I'm just crazy." I didn't know what to say to that. Maybe I could think it was a joke, Monty poking fun at the norms of society, but then I saw her face. Monty was still smiling, she always did, but the joy didn't reach her eyes this time.

Monty sat on the edge of the bed, and I sat beside her. I wanted to reach out and put an arm around her, to say we would protect her no matter what. But it felt like there was an invisible wall there, something I couldn't overcome.

"Monty," I finally said, "You saved us today, when I wasn't thinking quickly enough. We love you for who you are. I mean, you have some pretty wild ideas at times but that's a good part of your charm. Nobody's going to say you're crazy."

"You would though," she spoke softly, not allowing any emotion to creep into her voice. When we were so used to her being bubbly, excited, exuberant regardless of the situation, it was kind of disturbing just to not hear outright joy there. "If you could see into my mind, you'd say I was crazy. And you'd be right. I am. I experience symptoms defined in the DSM-IV, I am crazy. I can even self-diagnose, I can look at the psychiatry texts and analyse how I got to this point, but that doesn't change it. I am not of sound mind, and even though I trust you guys so much, I'd trust you with my life, I'm still scared to tell you in case you don't want me around anymore."

It was weird to hear her speaking slowly and carefully, picking her words. Anyone else, it would have made me think they were being extra careful, but it was so out of character I didn't even know what to assume. Had she been hiding this sadness under the cheerful veneer all along? Was this something we should have seen and helped her to deal with long before, so that she wouldn't be feeling down?

"I promise," I said, "If you feel like you can tell me, I'll listen. I don't think there's anything you could say that would make us care for you less, but even if it's something really disturbing, I think I could remind myself that it's not affected us up to now, and you're the same person who did so much to help us. Even if it was really terrible, some totally disgusting secret you've been hiding, something small enough to stay hidden so long can't be big enough to outweigh all the good experiences we've shared. You don't have to say anything, but don't feel like you can't."

She nodded slowly. We sat in silence for a while, and maybe a little of her usual confidence started to return.

"I know," she whispered, out of nowhere. I gave a quiet grunt in response. I didn't have the words for a verbal response. It needed to be non-confrontational, something she couldn't take offense to, but I didn't know what to say until I had some idea what the issue was.

"Sorry, that was..." she started, "I was thinking about how much easier it would be if I didn't worry about people judging me, and then she... I don't know how to explain."

"You don't have to."

"I want to tell you. I need to know if you'll run, or if you'll hate me. So maybe if I start from the beginning. When I was younger, there was... a kind of trauma. Not what you might think, but it wasn't healthy. If you break a vase, you can glue the pieces back together, but the cracks are still there. And I've never been quite right. I've let you see the way I like to act, the socially-acceptable weirdness, and I love that you guys will still treat me like a real person. I know how weird it is, I could quote chapter and verse of all the disorders I exemplify, but you are still willing to give me a chance. I can't thank you enough for that. But under it all there's one thing I'm too scared to share, because I don't want you to see me on the other side of the line between eccentric and mad." I didn't say anything. She was finding her way now, and she knew that I'd do my best not to judge.

"I... I hear voices. Sometimes it's hard to tell that it's not real. And I just have to ignore them, because I know I could be declared incompetent if anyone knew this. I can't even admit..."