《The Forgotten》


 Patient: Kevin Taylor - Session 1

    Valley Hill Mental Hospital


    Psychiatrist: Dr. William Branton


    Patient: Kevin Taylor


    Date:04Mar


    Prep Notes


    This morning Elizabeth brought me the information for a new patient, Kevin Taylor. 48 year old white male, good health, no history of mental illness in his family. Married with three children. He has been employed for the past 22 years as a pilot and makes regular transatlantic flights. No previous records of self harm, schizophrenia, paranoia, or hallucinations.


    In reviewing Mr. Taylor¡¯s file he was living a healthy and productive life up until about a month ago. Following a solo flight across the atlantic he started expressing concern for the location of an individual by the name of Jerry. At this time it is assumed that Jerry is a fabrication of Mr. Taylor¡¯s psyche as none of his family, friends, or co-workers know of this individual. While it is not uncommon for people to have friends or acquaintances that may be isolated from others in their life, this issue has escalated to physical altercations started by Mr. Taylor when other people deny knowledge of Jerry. According to Mr. Taylor, Jerry is not an isolated friend but known by many of the people who now deny knowledge of him.


    While Mr. Taylor does show some outward signs of aggression towards others at times, the worst aggression that he shows is too himself. He has had to be physically restrained in order to prevent him from harming himself, specifically his face and eyes. He seems to suffer from agoraphobia and refuses to go outside, preferring to be indoors where there are no windows to the outside. Mr. Taylor also suffers from Optophobia and quite often refuses to open his eyes.


    During our first session today I will try and get his perspective of things. I want to understand why a pilot with more than 20 years of experience is now afraid of the outdoors. My suspicion is that there may have been a recent traumatic event or trauma that may have caused the sudden and high severity of problems.


    Meeting Minutes:


    Note that my assistant Elizabeth brought Mr. Taylor into my office. He is restrained in a straitjacket and in a wheelchair. The wheelchair was to accommodate him due to a blindfold being around his eyes. It seems he truly does not wish to open his eyes.


    Myself: How are you feeling today?


    Mr. Taylor: Frustrated.


    Myself: And why is that?


    Mr. Taylor: I am locked in a crazy bin, why wouldn¡¯t I be frustrated? I want to be with my family but that¡¯s not possible, is it?


    Myself: That only depends on you. If you work with me and the rest of the staff then once you are better you will be free to go home.


    Mr. Taylor: You¡¯re bad at lying Doc. I knew the moment I set foot in here I was never going back home. I¡¯m nothing more that a circus freak nowadays. Do you know what it feels like for you wife to distance herself from you? Do you know how much it hurts for your kids to be embarrassed of you? Even if I did convince you and everyone else in this building that I don''t have a screw loose then I would be free to go home? I don''t have a home anymore.


    Myself: One step at a time Mr. Taylor. Our immediate goal is getting you better. Once we accomplish this then we can focus on the next problem. Let''s talk about that last time things were good and normal for you.


    Mr. Taylor: Sigh. Ok. It was before my last flight. I was at home with my family. We were at the dinner table talking about plans for this summer. We were debating if we should fly to the Caribbean for a week or if we should take an extended trip to Europe. My wife, Anna, loves the beach however the kids would prefer something more exciting. It''s like this every trip, trying to find a happy median for everyone to be happy.


    Myself: And what about you? What did you want?


    Mr. Taylor: I just wanted to be with my family. Be it in a fancy European restaurant or ankle deep in sand on Saint Martin. As long as my family was together I would be happy.


    Myself: And then what happened?


    Mr. Taylor: Then I went to work the next morning.


    Myself: What happened at work?


    Mr. Taylor: I met up with Jerry at the office. We were flying together with a shipment overseas. Standard cargo, nothing special. Early morning flight.


    Myself: So Jerry was your coworker?


    Mr. Taylor: Jerry is my best friend. We have known each other since we were kids and worked together for over ten years. He was even the best man at wedding but now everyone is playing some sick joke acting like they don''t know who he is.


    At this point Mr. Taylor was starting to become agitated and starting to yell. I had to drive the conversation forward without letting him dwell on Jerry.


    Meself: I understand Mr. Taylor and I believe you. Let''s not focus on that and continue. What happened at the office?


    Mr. Taylor: Just the normal prep. We checked the cargo against the inventory manifest, checked the flight paperwork, filled the plane with enough fuel for the trip. Just another day. The weather was supposed to be clear and it was supposed to be an easy flight.


    Myself: Did something go wrong?


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Mr. Taylor: No shit. The weather forecast was clear but two hours into the flight there was a freak storm out of nowhere. I have never seen a storm move that fast and be that violent. We tried to radio in to see where the storm came from but we couldn¡¯t make contact with anyone. All we could do was try and climb through the storm and get above it. At least at the higher altitude the winds wouldn''t be so strong. The instruments were going crazy, like everything was alarming and giving bad readings. Are you familiar with a plane¡¯s navigation equipment?


    Myself: Regrettably I am not.


    At this point Mr. Taylor took a deep breath and paused, taking a minute to speak.


    Mr. Taylor: Imagine driving in our car down the road. You just filled up with gas but now your dashboard lights up that you¡¯re low on fuel. Then your temperature gauge maxes out while your speedometer drops to zero. Yet you¡¯re still doing 60mph and the car isn''t making any strange noises aside from your dash. Now multiply this by another 20 gauges and factor in that you are above an ocean and cannot exactly pull over and call AAA.


    Myself: I see your point. So what did you do?


    Mr. Taylor: I told Jerry to remain calm, but it was more for myself than him. I tried to keep a level head but I was certain we were both about to die. The worst thing was I didn''t even know why. What kind of malfunction was the plane having? Was it due to the storm? Would anyone ever know what happened to us?


    Mr. Taylor was having difficulty continuing so I gave him a minute to compose himself and continue.


    Mr. Taylor: The plane was still responding to my controls so I kept her nose up trying to get over the storm. Finally I was sure we were going to break through the clouds and be in the clear. And then¡­


    Myself: Then what?


    Mr. Taylor: It stopped.


    Myself: What stopped.


    Mr. Taylor: Everything. The storm was gone. The gauges were working perfectly like they were at departure. It was quiet. That scared me more than storm.


    Myself: So you were above the storm then? You had made it out?


    Mr. Taylor: You¡¯re not understanding me. The storm was gone. It vanished. As if it was never there to begin with.


    Myself: So what about Jerry? I¡¯m sure he was as confused as you were by all this.


    Mr. Taylor: Jerry¡­. Jerry was gone too.


    Myself: Gone? Where?


    Mr. Taylor: He was just fuckin gone! As if I know where he went. We were in a metal tube flying over 40,000 feet above an ocean. It''s not like he stepped out to grab a coffee. He was just fuckin gone.


    Myself: Ok, I understand. I am trying to grasp the situation. What did you do next?


    Mr. Taylor: I turned the plane around and went back to our original landing strip. After what had just happened, I just wanted to get on the ground as soon as possible. It took me a while to notice, but it was now dark outside.


    Myself: Dark? It was nighttime?


    Mr. Taylor: Yea, as in stars above my head and not the sun.


    Myself: But you were only in flight for about 2 or 3 hours at this point right?


    Mr. Taylor: Exactly! We should have had more than half a day left but now it was night. When I finally got ahold of someone of the radio they were in a panic, similar to myself. They said that I had departed over 20 hours ago and when I failed to check in at my destination they feared something had happened.


    Myself: So 20 hours had passed and they thought you may have crashed at sea?


    Mr. Taylor: Yea. I don¡¯t get it. They didn''t get it either. A typical flight overseas takes about 12 hours. We only load enough fuel for 16 hours because of its weight. But in the end I had somehow only burned 5 hours worth of fuel in my flight. They all assumed I had simply landed somewhere for most the day before heading back.


    Myself: That is a reasonable assumption on their part. But obviously you landing somewhere didn''t happen, correct?


    Mr. Taylor: Obviously, I was stuck in that damn storm. The worst part was that nobody cared about Jerry. I stripped the plain myself but couldn''t find him anywhere. When I brought him up to the others and explained he was missing they all simply liked at me like I was crazy. They said they didn¡¯t know Jerry and that I had flown out by myself. I went to his locker to get some kind of proof but it was empty. I went to the parking lot for his car but it was gone. I even when through the previous flight logs he and I had done together but somehow his name had been taken off of everything. It was like he simply stopped existing.


    Myself: That must be hard to cope with. A man you have known most of you life simply vanishing like that and leaving no trace. What do you think happened?


    Mr. Taylor: I don''t know Doc, you tell me. It¡¯s one thing for a person to go missing, but this is different. It is like he never existed. It is not possible to get rid of all evidence that someone was here, but there was nothing. Over the next few days I went through family photos, yearbooks from high school, I even went to his house but there was a family living there I didn''t even know. Is this some kind of secret government conspiracy to erase a person or am I just crazy and have had an imaginary friend for the past 45 years of my life that somehow only now have noticed? I don''t know Doc, I don''t know.


    Mr. Taylor¡¯s mood had now dropped to one of depression. He seems to have come to the most likely conclusion that Jerry does not exist, and may have only ever existed in his own mind. I felt this would be a good time to address the problem of him trying to hurt himself.


    Myself: Let''s change the subject. Why do you not want to open your eyes?


    Mr. Taylor suddenly went ridgid. The cloth he had over his eyes was still firmly secured but I could tell that he was tightly clenching his eyes closed.


    Mr. Taylor: You wouldn¡¯t understand.


    Myself: Maybe not, but if you don''t tell me I will certainly never understand. And I cannot help you if you do not help me.


    Mr. Taylor: After the flight, Jerry going missing isn''t the only problem I have encountered.


    Mr Taylor took a deep breath to steady himself.


    Mr. Taylor: At first it was only slight so I didn¡¯t notice it much. It was a minor annoyance. But gradually it became worse.


    Myself: What became worse?


    Mr. Taylor: Something it watching me.


    Myself: What is watching you?


    Mr. Taylor: I don''t know. And I don¡¯t want to know. All I want is for it to go away.


    Myself: Nobody is here except for me and you. And what does this have to do with you opening your eyes?


    Mr. Taylor: It finds me when my eyes are open. And right now it may just be me and you but if I open my eyes, it would find me and be here in seconds.


    Myself: I assure you that there is nothing that will harm you if you open your eyes. Can you demonstrate this for me? Open your eyes so that I can see what it is you are talking about?


    Mr. Taylor: Not going to happen. You wouldn''t be able to see it anyhow. I don''t understand it but it''s not .. umm¡­ physical.


    Myself: If it is not physical, then what is it?


    Mr. Taylor: Like I said, I don''t know. All I know is that if I open my eyes it will be here. I don¡¯t know what it wants, I don''t know why it is interested in me. I just want it to leave me alone. If keeping my eyes closed for the rest of my life is what I have to do so I can hide from it, then so be it. I¡¯m not opening my eyes for you or anyone else Doc.


    Myself: I understand, and there is no way I will ever force you to do something that you yourself do not want to do. I think this is enough for today.


    Post Meeting Notes:


    My first impression of Mr. Taylor is good. He seems logical, willing to listen and cooperate. These will speed up his treatment and recovery substantially. It seems that Jerry may be a figment of his imagination and he has already started to come to terms with this, however it may take some time. I have looked over his flight records and as Mr. Taylor stated, there is no Jerry listed on any of these documents. The company also reported not having any employees on record by the name of Jerry and even Mrs. Taylor reports that no such person has ever been introduced to her.


    As for the storm and the flight that lasted much longer than it should have, Mr. Taylor¡¯s story coincides with the official report from his company. He departed early morning only to return 20 hours later. The amount of fuel spent was only about 5 hours worth indicating that the plane must have landed somewhere for most of the day before returning. The cargo was still intact and there was no indications that anything abnormal happened. The company even had multiple engineers check the plane inside and out multiple times but could find no supporting evidence of the storm that Mr. Taylor reported. Also there were no storms recorded in the flight path at all that day, so as to his account of a storm I am sceptical.


    It is likely that he may have had some sort of a mental breakdown on the flight and landed the plane somewhere, only to later return. He could have made up the storm as an excuse, possibly subconsciously and not even understand that himself.


    All of these are minor points as he can function in the world with a misunderstand of the events of that day. The main problem is he will not open his eyes and constantly tried to attack his own eyes and face. He was serious when he stated he would not be opening his eyes for anyone and seems to truly feel that someone or something is able to find him and possibly harm him if he was to open his eyes.


    Before our next session I will try hypnotherapy to see if we can discover anything more from his flight, such as where he may have landed. Depending on how that goes we may also try and see what he is truly afraid of.

 Patient: Marcus DeWitt - Session 1

    Valley Hill Mental Hospital


    Psychiatrist: Dr. William Branton


    Patient: Marcus DeWitt


    Date:05Mar


    Prep Notes:


    Today Elizabeth and I started to review the case for my second new patient of this month, a young man named Marcus DeWitt. He is a 20 year old black male who is in good health. He is studying in pre-med to become a surgeon and is among the top in his class. He is single with no children and lives by himself. He supports himself by working as a Forensic morgue technician at night which doubles as a job and practical training for his desired profession. No previous records of self harm, schizophrenia, paranoia, or hallucinations.


    Mr. DeWitt''s file shows that he was well on his way to a successful future. His problems began when he first reported hearing sounds that other people cannot hear. He visited several audiologist to have his hearing checked and it came back normal. He had no detectable problems that any doctor could find however Mr. DeWitt insisted he could still hear a drumming sound. The intensity of the sound would fluctuate; at times being a dull distant beat but other times it would be so loud that he would appear to be in physical pain. He even underwent neurological testing that all came back normal.


    A second point of concern is that Mr. DeWitt seems to have created a fictitious individual similar to Mr. Taylor (See 04Mar consultation). Mr. DeWitt claims that he was joined in his pre-med classes by one Sarah Lawford and the two had been taking these classes together for two years. In checking with the University, there was no record of a Sarah Lawford ever attending. In checking with his professors it was the same, none had any knowledge of a Sarah Lawford. Once again, I find myself with a patient that has completely invented an individual. I should look into this deeper to see if there are other similar cases that I can learn from.


    On its own this would not be enough to admit one to Valley Hill. Sadly Mr. DeWitt has also been attempting to harm himself. On multiple occasions he has tried to stab/puncture his eardrums with sharp objects. He fortunately has not managed to cause permanent damage but did have to undergo minor medical care for this. He has also attempted suicide twice; once by trying to overdose on sleeping medicine and the second he was trying to jump from the top of a building onto the street below. The attempted overdose was stopped by a concerned neighbor who could hear Mr. DeWitt screaming from his apartment and called the cops. The drumming sound had gotten so bad according to him that he could not take it anymore. After a few days in the hospital he was released but with a mandatory psychiatric evaluation a few days from then. The day before this evaluation was to take place it would seem the sounds once again drew too loud and he attempted to leap from a building. Once again a cop was able to pull him from the ledge, but this time he was admitted here for a full evaluation under strict supervision.


    I cannot help but think of my wife with this case. She once had a friend who committed suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. Her friend¡¯s reasons were very different but the outcome was still tragic and it took my wife years to come to terms with it. I hope I can help Mr. DeWitt so that not only he, but his friends and family can all be at peace.


    Meeting Minutes:


    Note that Elizabeth, per the norm, brought Mr. DeWitt into my office restrained in a straitjacket and in a wheelchair. The straitjacket was to obviously prevent self harm and the wheelchair was simply a precaution against him trying to run away.


    Myself: Good day Mr. DeWitt. How are you feeling today?


    Mr. DeWitt: Drowsy. I''m assuming the pills that the nurses are forcing me to take sedatives? Then again, since there are 6 different horse-pills it''s likely a mix between sedatives, antipsychotics, and mood stabilizers.


    Myself: That would be correct. Your obviously studied well in class. Aside from the medicine¡¯s side effects how are you?


    Mr. DeWitt: I¡¯m terribly bored. There is nothing to do here and I hate it. Between class and work I always went nonstop 18 hours a day. If I was lucky I would get 5 hours of sleep. But now it looks like I have all the time in the world to sleep.


    In observing Mr. DeWitt¡¯s face he did not look like someone who was getting enough sleep. Deep bags had formed under his eyes and he looked more akin to someone who had been awake for more than a few days strait.


    Myself: Please make sure you are getting enough rest. As you know, it is important for your recovery.


    Mr. DeWitt: Looking away to the side and scoffed, Right.


    Small talk was obviously over at this point so I wanted to start down the path of events that lead this young man to my office.


    Myself: Can you still hear the sounds even today? You have had constant dosages of medicine over the past few days that should have been well absorbed into your system at this point.


    Mr. DeWitt: Yes. I can hear them. I can hear them loud and clear. If this was something a pill could fix I would have never been here to begin with.


    At this point I noticed that Mr. DeWitt¡¯s right foot was slowly tapping the ground. I was unsure if this was intentional or not so I decided to not say anything about it. It was light enough where it made no sound but followed a slow beat, maybe once every 10 seconds.


    Myself: Tell me where this all started. What happened before you started hearing the sounds.


    Mr. DeWitt: I was working a lot. Between school and my job I never had much time to relax. It wasn''t bad though. Honestly I enjoyed staying busy. I never went out much aside from that, that was until Sarah and I started hanging out on the weekends.


    Myself: So you two hung out often?


    Mr. DeWitt: Not at first. I knew who she was because we have had quite a few classes together. She was your typical party girl and seeing as I didn''t care for the part lifestyle we only spoke in class a few times.


    Myself: So how did you two start to interact more?


    Mr. DeWitt: We were in our last semester of Bio and we had to break up into teams for the class. The final project was a pain and so we were put in groups of 5. Within a few weeks of the class 1 guy dropped the class, another was caught cheating on a test and was kicked out, and the third was highly unreliable. Even though Sarah loved her parties she was quite smart. So the project landed on just the two of us working together.


    He paused for a moment as if he was reflecting on the events.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mr. DeWitt: It was a lot of work but it was fun. We made a lot of progress quickly and ended up with some free time at the end of the semester. If there was nothing due that week we would go out instead of work on the project. This became quite regular and eventually we agreed to start officially dating .


    Myself: So Sarah and yourself were dating?


    Mr. DeWitt: Yea. For about 3 months. Until, well¡­ She disappeared.


    Myself: Explain to me what happened. Did she drop out of school? Did she go abroad?


    Note that I have already looked into Sarah Lawford and there is no evidence this person ever existed. The school has nobody registered under this name, student of faculty. I had also previously checked with his professor concerning the group they were in together and he said that Mr. DeWitt was in a group with only 4 other individuals. The other 3 people match Mr. DeWitt¡¯s description but the professor indicated that it was Mr. DeWitt that alone carried most of the work related to that team.


    Mr. DeWitt: She didn¡¯t quit school, move back home, or go overseas. She just simply vanished. It is as if she stopped existing all together. We went out one night and I lost track of her. When I got home her things were gone. She had left a few things at my apartment for when she would stay overnight occasionally. Well it was all gone. I went to her place and nobody answered the door. I called her god-knows how many times but I only get a message saying the phone number was invalid. After a few days I spoke to her apartment manager and he said that nobody lived in that apartment and had not for months. I even went to my teachers about her and they said there was nobody in the class by that name, which is bullshit!


    He was starting working himself up in a fit but instead of calming him down right away I kept listening. He truly felt passionate about this. In his mind she was real and resolving this might be key in stopping his suicidal tendency.


    Mr. DeWitt: Everyone thought I was crazy. Well¡­ Who knows, maybe I am. I broke into her apartment one night and nothing was there. It was just as the manager had said. The fridge was empty, there was no furniture or pictures on the walls. The cabinets were empty. Hell, there wasn''t even marks on the carpet from her couch. Another day I broke into my old professor¡¯s office and went through our project from the previous semester. Her name wasn''t on it. Her name wasn''t anywhere. All the work that she did was still there but it was credited to me! How is that possible?


    He was nearly yelling at the end but then he stopped himself and after a few deep breaths he was calm. His next words were in almost a whisper, full of sorrow.


    Mr. DeWitt: Maybe I have lost my mind, but I still love her.


    Myself: Let''s talk about the sounds you started hearing. When did they start?


    Mr. DeWitt: The same night she disappeared.


    Myself: Tell me the events of that night.


    Mr. DeWitt: We went out one night to go to this party she had heard about that was downtown. As we were almost there we saw a few cop cars parked in a circle at the place and a few people were cuffed and being questioned. From what I guess there was either a fight or maybe drugs involved. We didn¡¯t hang around to see but just kept going. We ended up walking around downtown until we came across the new Marina that is under construction. She wanted to check it out so we walked up to it as close as we could. It was blocked off by a fence and some barbed wire. Before I knew it she had found a hole in the fence and had run into the building.


    Myself: So you two broke into the Marina in the middle of the night?


    Mr. DeWitt: Well I wasn¡¯t going to just leave her, so yea, I followed. The place was dark and huge on the inside. It was like what you would think of if you were in a museum with all the lights off in the night. There were display cases everywhere, whale skeletons hanging from the ceiling, It was truly exciting. There was enough light coming in the windows from the city lights where we didn''t have much trouble navigating the dark. I caught up to her and she wanted to go to the lower levels where they have a large glass window against the ocean so you can see the natural sea life.


    Mr. DeWitt started to talk slower and in more hushed tones. As if there was a part he was not looking forward to coming up.


    Mr. DeWitt: We found our way down to the lower floor easily enough. At the window it was too dark to make out much of anything. We stood there for a minute trying to discern shadows from fish but there wasn''t much else. She started to head back up when I first heard the sound. It was like something heavy falling far away, just this distinct low rumble. I was confused at first but I didn''t feel any vibrations in the floor so I assumed it was too far away for concern. I was following her to the stairs, which she was already up a few, when I heard the sounds again. This time it was closer. I called out to Sarah but she left my sight up the stairs and didn''t reply. I paused and looked around once more because I felt as if I was being watched.


    He started to shake as if he was trembling. Something scared him that night.


    Mr. DeWitt: The third time I heard the sound it was so close I could feel it in my chest. And I saw something. It was in the ocean and it was big. The sea window is almost 100 meters long and 10 meters tall. More than half of it was covered by a shadow instantly when the third sound hit. At first I thought it was a whale or maybe a ship but it wasn''t moving right. It had appeared too quickly. I couldn''t make out any recognizable shape but it was a shadow that was darker than any shadow I have ever seen. I was frozen staring at it. My legs were were jello but somehow were still holding my upright. It wasn''t until the fourth sound that I came to my senses and ran. It sounded as if whatever it was had happened right next to me. I think the only reason I ran was because I was being knocked over by the pressure of the sound and just happened to keep my feet under me. By the time I got to the top of the stairs the noise had stopped, but I didn''t stop running. I called out for Sarah and searched for her frantically. She never replied and I never found her. I assumed maybe she ran just like I was trying to so I left the building and went back out the same hole in the fence but there was nothing indicating she was there. I glanced at the ocean but here was nothing there. No ships, no whale, nothing. But I kept running. I ran until I was at a nearby intersection crowded with people. Nobody acted as if anything was out of place so I didn''t bother asking anyone about the sounds. Instead I searched the crowd for Sarah. I must have stood at that intersection for hours looking for her. I tried calling her phone for the first time here and was surprised when I got the error that the phone was not in service. I ended up going home alone that night with no answers.


    He took a deep breath and once more steadied himself.


    Mr. DeWitt: In the morning I awoke to the sound. It was very faint but there was no mistaking it. It was as if a ton of bricks had dropped a mile away, too far to be considered loud however too loud to ever be missed. From that day on I have never stopped hearing it.


    Myself: So that night was the last you ever saw Sarah and at the same time it was the first you ever heard that sound. What is it that you think you saw?


    Mr. DeWitt: As if I know. Honestly I¡¯m glad I didn''t see it, if ¡®it¡¯ was even something in the first place. It was dark, I was looking underwater, It may have been nothing. But what I want to know first and foremost is what is what happened to Sarah. The detail that I remember her in is no delusion. I could not have made her up. That question alone would be enough to drive me mad but I am also now constantly assaulted by this noise too. It¡¯s too much.


    I noticed that Mr. DeWitt¡¯s foot was now tapping the ground almost in harmony with the ticks of a second hand. It was also no longer a soft inaudible tap but now a noticeable thud.


    Myself: Do you hear the sound right now?


    Mr. DeWitt: Yes. As I said, I always hear it.


    Myself: Currently the sound is getting close and louder for you, isn¡¯t it?


    He glanced at me confused at first as if he suspected that I could hear the sound. Then noticed his foot tapping along the the beat that resided only within his own mind.


    Mr. DeWitt: Yes. It feels like it enjoys tormenting me. It starts far away in a slow drum then progressively get closer, and louder, and faster. It feels like I am being hunted.


    Myself: So you attempted suicide twice so you can avoid the pain?


    Mr. DeWitt leaned forward and gazed at the floor. His expression was one of sadness and a near broken man.


    Mr. DeWitt: I just want the pain to stop. These drums will get louder and louder until I feel like my body is going to be shaken apart. I will scream and it will not stop. I will cry and it will not stop. I will vomit, shit and piss myself but it will not stop. Only when I give up hope and wish for death does it then leave me alone, curled up in my filth only to reset the timer for a soon yet unknown time for it to return. Almost two months have passed since this has started. No doctor can find anything wrong. No medicine can fend off the noise that only I can hear.


    Mr. DeWitt looked up at me with tears running down his face.


    Mr. DeWitt: I do not want die. But death has to be better than this.


    Post Meeting Notes:


    I am having a hard time in remaining professional with Mr. DeWitt. I feel like I must embrace him as if he were the child my wife and I never had. It is clear that his condition has driven him to an extreme however who could not be tempted to take their own life in such a situation. From his point of view he has a disease that has no cure and the only symptom is eternal suffering. This is not madness but humanity at its breaking point.


    Once again I am baffled by the story about Sarah. Just like with Mr. Taylor I have another story of a person who was seemingly fabricated by the patient. Both of these men truly believe these other people existed and are willing to go to great acts to prove it. But in the end I think that both men are very possible to accept that their memories are false.


    The more I think about it the more their stories almost line up. Both men have the same delusion of a second person that does not exist. After some difficult to explain and traumatic event this delusion was broken so that now they are able to see the world without the fabricated individual but it has been replaced with a sensory problem. Mr. Taylor is so afraid of his eyes (specifically what he will see) that he refuses to ever open them. Mr. DeWitt is being attacked by some unknown sound. Is there a connection or is it just a coincidence?


    Once again I feel that hypnotherapy will be our best next course of action. With this I can break into their subconscious and rid them of their strife. As this will take a few days to coordinate I will keep them both under observation until that time. As it is already getting late I must leave. Tonight is my wife and I¡¯s 15 year anniversary and we are celebrating with dinner at her favorite restaurant. Thanks to my assistant Elizabeth I am rarely late to these events anymore. She has been working for me for almost 3 years and her organization skills are superb for someone half my age. Honestly, without Elizabeth to help line up my meetings and doing the recordkeeping I would be hard pressed to ever complete my work.

 Personal Notes

    Valley Hill Mental Hospital


    Psychiatrist: Dr. William Branton


    Professional Journal


    Date:08Mar


    Never in my 44 years of living have I experianced suchs highs and lows, and never have I experienced them in such a high frequency. Over the course of the previous 4 days I have taken light steps though heaven and crawled through hell. My head is spinning from all of the sights and I need to cast an anchor to hold me firm before I am swept away by the unyielding currents. This journal shall be that anchor.


    First let me express the delight that I felt when Katie, my wife of 15 years, informed me that our labor (although one would not call it labor) will finally bear fruit, for she is with child. We have been trying for many years to grow our family but there have been complications. Through all the hope and disappointment we have finally reached our elusive goal. She had her pregnancy confirmed with her doctor so this is surely the real thing. Over the next few months I am sure to be busy preparing a nursery, childproofing, and whatever else expecting fathers do.


    My wife is glowing with a happiness I have not seen her with in years. Her walk is more akin to a dance and her words are better described as a song. We had all but given up but now we have been blessed with what can only be described as a miracle.


    We have announced the news to our family and friends who are all overjoyed as well. Our close friends Dave and Linda Sutton took us out on their boat for dinner in the harbor to celebrate. It was actually them who introduced Katie and myself years ago and since then they have had three boys of their own. It will still be a few months before we can find out the gender of our baby so until then all we can do it plan for both scenarios.


    When I informed my coworkers everyone was quite happy for us. Elizabeth even bought me a small box of expensive cigars which I couldn¡¯t refuse. She knows that I partake in the occasional cigar whenever I need to relax and dive into deep thought. There were six cigars in an old mahogany box that fit perfectly on the corner of my desk. Elizabeth and I joked around about how even though my wife and I were having our first child, Elizabeth would always be my work daughter. She would laugh and pick back at me saying that without her I wouldn''t even know what the top of my desk would look like because it would be covered in unorganized papers.


    As I stated at the beginning, not all has been good though. Bringing me back down from my high has been my two patients, Mr. Taylor and Mr. DeWitt. After last week¡¯s sessions we decided to proceed with hypnotherapy. In short, it was a horrible idea.


    Mr. Taylor, the pilot who suffers from Optophobia was the first go undergo the procedure. Historically speaking, we induce a sleep like state to the patient where we can then access parts of the subconscious. Here we can have the patient remember things that may have else been lost in their memory and have them describe it to us. We can uncover repressed trauma that can lead us to better treat the individual and start healing the root of the problem. While it is not an exact science, I have seen it work a staggering amount of times first hand. Mr. Taylor was not among those.


    Starting off the session was normal enough. He was restrained to his bed for fear of him harming himself was still there but he was receptive of the treatment. We had no problems accessing his subconscious and getting him to answer questions about his life. We started with questions about his childhood which did not uncover anything abnormal. There was no indications of childhood trauma, mental illness, or anything else. Eventually we lead him to the day of his mysterious flight. All the details about him preparing the flight matched his previous statements including those about Jerry. We let him tell the story in amazing detail as we took notes. Two hours into the flight he described the sudden storm that overtook the plane. He recalled the gauges all acting up, the alarms that were going off, how he was trying to gain altitude to go over the storm. All of it matched exactly. But then it changed.


    He had previously stated that the storm had suddenly disappeared and along with it so too did his friend Jerry. Now we seemed to get the missing parts between those two times.


    As the plane ascended he noticed a crack in the sky. At first he thought it was something on the windshield of the plane but he quickly noticed that was not the case. This crack was static and unmoving in the clouds themselves and many times larger than the plane, and the storm was raging around it as if it was a bathtub drain and the storm was the water rushing into it. Imagine if the sky was a painting, something material in itself, and this is what he saw. He tried to divert the plane but it was useless as he was seemingly sucked into the crack.


    What he described next was even harder to imagine. As soon as the plane went into the crack all he could see was a calm night sky with stars all around him. Everywhere he looked was all the same except below him. There was no ocean, no ground at all, just more starry sky. The only thing he could see aside from stars and the blackness of space was the crack that was still open, through which he could still see the storm raging as if it was a window back into our world. He felt impossibly light as if gravity was now turned off and he also felt impossibly slow. He could only compare this feeling as if he was submerged under water trying to run. There was almost an unseen force acting upon him that was similar, and yet so different than gravity.


    Numerous stars lit up the obsidian backdrop of the new sky in patterns that he had never seen before. He could not find any similar formations that he was accustomed to in his years of navigation. The more he looked around he came to the startling conclusion that this was not the night¡¯s sky but space itself. Aside from the crack there was nothing but stars. No land, no sky, no terraforma. As illogical as it was it was the only thing which he could accept as to his current location. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Jerry turned to him and said something, but the words were obstructed in the alien environment and Mr. Taylor could not make out what was said. Jerry unbuckled himself from the co-pilot¡¯s seat and slowly moved to the back of the plane in what seemed like a half walking half floating manner. As he moved to the back of the plane Mr. Taylor lost sight of him, and so he turned his attention back to the stars. He was unsure how long he sat there. It could have been minutes or even hours. Without warning though, a distorted scream from the rear of the plane caused Mr. Taylor to take action. He moved as quickly as he could to the rear of the plane and found Jerry looking out of a porthole and trembling. Mr. Taylor called to his friend but there was no reply and it wasn''t until he forcefully shook him did he turn from the window. And what in his friends face was beyond understanding.


    Jerry¡¯s eyes were both solid black. But this was an unnatural color of black, one that was an abyss of emptiness. Both eyes were a portal of nothingness and his face was distorted in fear. As Mr. Taylor shook his friend who seemed paralyzed, Jerry¡¯s face began to crumble like a sandcastle in the wind. Cracks formed on his cheeks and forehead that seemed to erode into his body and sand fell out of the wound instead of blood. Before Mr. Taylor could even act all that was left of his friend was a small pile of dust.


    Mr. Taylor could not help but turn to the window in fear, anger, sorrow and a mix of every other emotion. What he saw he could only explain as a black hole. There was a perfect circle of nothingness in the space that stars should have been hanging. All light from those stars seemed to be pulled into the black hole giving the impression that space itself was breaking.


    And something inside was looking back at him.


    At this point something jolted the plane and he fell to his knees and broke his line of sight. Something was happening to the plane, as if it was moving again instead of hanging in the motionness of space. He crawled back to the cockpit and noticed that the plane was once again being pulled into the crack he passed through earlier. He manned the controls and maneuvered it best he could and somehow passed through the crack as it was closing. Back into the storm he escaped from.


    As he crossed through completely, the crack snapped shut, and instantly the storm stopped. The clouds simply dispersed, the wind calmed down back to normal, full control of the plane returned to him and all the gauges returned to normal.


    From here it was the same as the previous stories. He turned the plane around and went back. He seemed to have blocked those memories out of his mind, which is understandable considering how extreme his story was. If he truly believed it then this would undeniably be a traumatic and terrifying event.


    In my profession though we have to accept that the mind is a greatly flawed device to begin with. If deprived of oxygen for long enough a person can hallucinate a wide range of things. If the right combination of chemicals are introduced into your body then you can get the same effect. If a person takes a hallucinogenic such as Lysergic acid diethylamide (aka acid) then they will experience a huge range of things that they themself will feel is reality and be unable to differentiate between the two. Although Mr. Taylor tested negative to every drug test administered, this does not mean that he was not hallucinating.


    But there was an intangible way he told the story that makes me believe him.


    Mr. DeWitt had his hypnotherapy the next day. He was still restrained like before but was very compliant. Once we had accessed his subconscious he started with simple questions about his childhood. Very standard stuff like how his upbringing was, the schools he attended, friends he had. All the questions were met with prompt and clear answers. Even when we started asking about Sarah Lawford the answers remained the same. He truly believed she existed and his responses matched all of his earlier statements.


    It wasn¡¯t until we started exploring his memory about the events of the night in the marina that we ran into complications during the hypnotherapy.


    One great thing about this kind of therapy is that it can help you recall information that you yourself may not be aware that you know. Sometimes small details are overlooked when processing large amount of information and our brain stores them away without our cognitive self knowing it. So when were were going through the events of the night in question, Mr. DeWitt stepped us through everything in greater detail.


    When in the basement along the Sea Window he remembered seeing what looked like a small crack in the glass. At that time he thought it was a reflection of something behind him because whenever he took a few steps the crack position would change relative to the glass, a common reflection illusion. But as he is now remembering it, it seems the crack was actually in the ocean itself. Inside of the crack was a darkness that he could only explain as ¡®infinite¡¯.


    At the moment he heard the first sound, it seems that the crack grew larger and the opening increased. There was no effect on anything that he could tell. The ocean was behaving the same and everything inside the marina was unaffected. The second sound was the same where the crack became larger again but he hadn¡¯t given it any attention because he thought it was an optical illusion with a reflection.


    After that was when they were leaving and he lost sight of Sarah. At the time of the third sound he was able to better recall the shapes and shadows in the ocean. Something broke through the crack and into the ocean. He couldn''t explain the form or even the movement but he was certain whatever ¡®it¡¯ was it came through the crack.


    As he was recalling the time of the fourth sound, he suddenly froze and began to tremble. Tears started to stream down his face. He confessed that ¡°I wasn¡¯t running away from the sound. I was running to her, to Sarah. Under the noise of the drums I heard her scream for help. That is why I was running.¡±


    He recalled that he heard her scream from that point on in unison with the drums. It wasn¡¯t until the next day when the drumming started again that her screams were no longer mixed into the sound. He wept tears to the point that we had to stop the treatment. Mr. DeWitt felt that he abandoned Sarah without even realizing it. He blamed himself for leaving the marina to look for her when he should have stayed until he found her. It''s a strong case of survivor''s remorse where he is taking all the blame for an event that we cannot even definitively say ever happened at all.


    I will give each of the patients time to recover and reflect before our next session. They both took it very hard and it was not as productive as I had hoped. I almost seem to be walking away with more questions than answers.


    Both patients observed a ¡®crack¡¯ in what I can only describe as reality. Mass hysteria? Common Delusion? I don''t think so. These two patients are too far removed from each other to come to that assumption. I will have to do more research into this. I will center my search into three key points.


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">People who claim that someone close to them has gone missing.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">People who reported a crack or break in reality or space itself.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">People who are tormented by unexplainable symptoms after these event.</li>


    </ol>


    If I can find others that fit these criteria then maybe there will be clues in how to treat their delusions.

 Patient: Kevin Taylor - Session 2

    Valley Hill Mental Hospital


    Psychiatrist: Dr. William Branton


    Patient: Kevin Taylor


    Date:11Mar


    Prep Notes


    In a surprising result, I have been able to locate nearly 40 similar cases to Mr. Taylor and Mr. DeWitt. My search was limited to psychiatric hospitals within the United States due to other countries not being connected to our computer database. Sadly though many of those individuals have either passed away or are in a near vegetative state, leaving only about 4-5 others who are as functional as my patients.


    With my previously listed 3 search criteria I can claim at least 2 of these apply in every case while all 3 apply in the majority. Due to the nature of the search, in order for me to be able to group these cases together I placed an emphasis on the missing person portion. From there I tried to isolate those with afflictions as well and read up on their personal accounts of what happened.


    The details in each case are strikingly similar. Multiple people grouped together near the ocean (some on the beach, cruiseship, etc) all experience a similar distortion in reality, a mass delusion. The details of each hallucination vary widely so I will not dwell on them however by the end of it they all claimed that a person had gone missing. Be it a loved one, friend, or a simple acquaintance seemed to vanish. These missing people also never existed.


    After these events, each of the individuals also experienced a wide range of health problems, both mental and physical. Some were unable to walk while others experienced hypersensitivity to their senses. Again, the ailments vary to such a large degree I will not bother listing them all.


    It is astonishing really. Each of the cases have about the same formula of events. The patient goes out to the ocean with someone else, there is a strange supernatural event where sometimes the patient noticed what I have started referring to as the ¡®reality crack¡¯, followed by the patient returning to their life but without the other individual and accompanied by some disorder.


    Elizabeth did some digging on her own and came to the same conclusion as myself, that these must be related by some common factor. However we have not been able to isolate any common denominator. Age, gender, race, location, background, education, and more are all vastly different.


    In the end, this is only a side note on the specifics with my patients.


    Since the hypnotherapy Mr. Taylor has changed. Having awoken his memories of the event he is now quite lethargic, yet calm and complacent. Where once he was very animated and often heated during discussions, he is now just the opposite and apathetic to almost everything to the point where it would seem he is in a deep depression. The only positive to come from the session is that he has removed his blindfold and no longer seems bothered by his eyes. He now prefers to sit next to the window and gaze outside at any moment he can. He has no longer tried to harm himself so he is allowed more freedom than before but monitoring has remained, for obvious reasons.


    Meeting Minutes:


    Note that Mr. Taylor is no longer restrained and no longer in a wheelchair. Elisabeth led him into my office and helped him get seated with no problems. Mr. Taylor appears normal however retains his new apathetic and indifference to everything around him, glancing around without even the slightest interest in anything. The only time there was even a measurable amount of curiosity was when he looked out the window in my office, but even then that was only a fleeting moment.


    Myself: Good morning Mr. Taylor. How are you today?


    Mr. Taylor: I am well, thank you.


    Myself: You look well. And it is good to see you without your blindfold. What changed?Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mr. Taylor: Shrugging. I realised there is nothing to be afraid of.


    Myself: That is good. Can you tell me what you were afraid of to begin with? And how you came to overcome that fear?


    Mr. Taylor: I would see things that I could not explain, and that lead to fear. He looked away from me and back out the window. But fear itself is irrational, is it not?


    Myself: Fear can be very helpful in the right context. It can help you distinguish danger and allow you to have a natural aversion to things that can do you harm. But yes, it can also debilitate you if you let it.


    Mr. Taylor: That''s why I say that it is irrational. Fear is meant to stop us from getting hurt, however it simply causes us more pain.


    Myself: Go on.


    Mr. Taylor: If you were to walk into your office in the pitch black dark, would you feel safe? Probably not. Whenever people lose their sight the instantly feel afraid and panic. Even if it is a room where you have been frequently for years, that you set up yourself and know better than anyone else. As soon as you lose your sight it is now a strange foreign place to you. Most people even in their own home after turning off the lights walk a bit faster to the next room.


    Myself: That is a fair point, but it is instinctual. For those who grow up with sight, it allows us to analyse and assess threats, predators. In the dark we cannot assure our own safety therefore we get ¡®spooked¡¯.


    Mr. Taylor: But instead of your office what if you found yourself in a lion¡¯s den. Would you prefer the lights be on or off? If the light is on then the odds of the predators seeing you are exponentially higher than if they are off. If the lights are off they may not even notice your presence.


    Myself: That is quite the riddle. Mr. Taylor looked as if he wanted an answer before continuing so I contemplated it for a while. I would have to say I would prefer the light turned on. Even if the Lions would have a better chance of seeing me, I would at least be able to defend myself.


    Mr. Taylor: But what if you had been blind your entire life? Would you feel the same way?


    Myself: Well in that situation I may want the light to remain off in seeing that the light would not provide me with any benefit and only increasing my odds of an attack.


    Mr. Taylor: That is why fear is irrational though. Your assume your best odds are in the dark yet the dark is exactly what scares you, not the lions. You would prefer to fight the lions in the light because you assume your odds would be better, when in fact you are already screwed either way. Light, dark, all you are is lunch. The only difference is if you can see your death approaching you.


    Myself: So, Mr. Taylor, what are your lions?


    Mr. Taylor: With a sigh. We are all trapped in a room with lions, we just don''t know it. I was able to get a small glimpse of the lion when I was in that plain, and all I wanted was to just turn off the light as quickly as possible. But ever since then I have been stuck in a room with a flickering light, allowing me to see only occasionally. But it is irrelevant if the light is on or off, because we are all trapped anyhow.


    Myself: Can you see things that other people cannot?


    He seemed to struggle with the words for a while so I gave him time to think about it.


    Mr. Taylor: I can see my own mortality and how laughable our own attempts at surviving are.


    Myself: Mr. Taylor, are you thinking about hurting yourself?


    Mr. Taylor: Actually laughing. There are a million things already trying to kill me. Why would I do the job for them? I am just acutely aware of the struggle of life now, I haven¡¯t actually given up on life.


    Myself: That''s good to hear, although you sound depressed so I am concerned for you. I hope you understand.


    Mr. Taylor: Of course. But once you understand what we are up against you cannot help but feel depressed.


    Post Meeting Notes:


    The sharp turn in Mr. Taylor¡¯s personality is striking however he does seem to be improving. Fear of one¡¯s own mortality can be tough to overcome but this is easy to overcome in a loving environment. If Mr. Taylor continues to improve over the next few weeks and has no more episodes of attempted self harm then we may be able to release him back home to his wife and children with medicine to help combat his depression.


    Seeing everything he has been through psychologically it is easy to understand the reason for his shift. Those memories (real or otherwise) were traumatic. He no longer seems to mention his missing friend, Jerry. So either he accepts that there is no Jerry or has simply moved past the delusion. Either way it is another improvement.


    Mr. Taylor¡¯s medication has been reduced and as long as these improvements continue he may be off of them completely very soon. My only true concern for Mr. Taylor is self harm still. I feel that the pendulum may have swung too far the other direction. Where as before he would have violent outbursts of anger that resulted in him hurting himself, his apparent depression could result in more intentional injuries. Only time will tell though and he will remain under observation for the time being.


    Elizabeth mentioned an interesting proposal to me today. Her and her boyfriend are going deep sea fishing over the weekend. She offered to take a camera with her and take pictures while out at sea to show the patients, and try and see if that can help jog something else out of them. Her and her boyfriend make this trip about once every 3 months or so and are experienced on a boat, otherwise I would have been against it. Either way, she would be doing this anyway regardless of the patients.


    Anyhow, it''s late on Friday and I need to get home to my growing family.

 Patient: Marcus DeWitt - Session 2

    Valley Hill Mental Hospital


    Psychiatrist: Dr. William Branton


    Patient: Marcus DeWitt


    Date:14 Mar


    Prep Notes:


    This weekend was great. Katie and I were out looking for cribs and other baby things to start filling our home with. We have a room picked out that we are going to convert to a nursery so I have already starting moving things out of there. Once we find out the gender she will pick out the paint and we can get started decorating. Until then it''s all gender neutral stuff.


    After pulling out and reviewing Mr. DeWitt¡¯s file, he seems to be having a much harder time since the hypnotherapy. While my other patent became less energetic, Mr. DeWitt has been having more and more outbursts and even attempted to harm himself a few more times. As of now he is being permanently restrained to the point that the staff is having to feed him. It is quite frustrating because the therapy was supposed to help but seems to have done more harm that good.


    He is also known to go on near unintelligible rants. Occasionally he has to be sedated to calm him down. He is certainly deteriorating and becoming worse, so I hope I can get through to him today.


    When reviewing the other similar cases mentioned previously this was the path that many went down prior to an early death. These deaths were a mixture of suicide, self defence by someone the patient was attacking, or simply unknown causes. One strange case stated the patient was in isolation and under surveillance and yet drowned. The individual¡¯s lungs were filled with seawater and nobody could explain it.


    Well, I have no concerns about Mr. DeWitt drowning.  However there are still numerous concerns about him still.


    Meeting Minutes:


    Note that an orderly wheeled Mr. DeWitt into my office in a wheelchair and straitjacket. I checked and he had been given a half dosage of a sedative prior to our meeting so that he would be calm enough to make some kind of progress.


    Myself: Mr. DeWitt, how are you today?


    Mr. DeWitt: His head is drooped and he is looking towards his lap. I¡¯ve been better.


    Myself: I understand, and I am here to help. So can you tell me about the problems you have been having recently?


    Mr. DeWitt: The sound is getting worse Doctor.


    Myself: How so? Can you explain it?


    Mr. DeWitt: It is occuring more frequent. It is louder. And there are even other sounds mixed into it now.


    Myself: Other sounds?


    Mr. DeWitt: Yes. Now I can hear people screaming as the sound gets closer. It is as if the sound is chasing someone and they are trying to outrun it. The banging gets faster and the screaming gets louder. The booming gets louder and the screaming turns into shrieking. By the end of it I am in so much pain I cannot tell my own screams from the ones I hear. And then abruptly all the sounds stop. No more screaming. No more banging. But my pain is still there.


    Myself: And this got worse after the hypnotherapy?


    Mr. DeWitt: Yes. Well, yes and no. The therapy helped me recall some details of that first night. But I think it is because I have a better understanding of the events that it has gotten worse.


    Myself: Can you elaborate?


    Mr. DeWitt: Doctor, have you ever forgotten something?


    Myself: Of course, all the time.


    Mr. DeWitt: What was something you forgot recently?


    Myself: Well, this weekend I went shopping with my wife and I forgot my wallet at home.


    Mr. DeWitt: Chuckling I bet your wife wasn¡¯t happy about that.


    Myself: I certainly got an earful. Luckily I keep a spare credit card in the car so I just used it instead.


    Mr. DeWitt: So how did you forget?This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Myself: I just got caught up trying to get everything together and it slipped my mind.


    Mr. DeWitt: But can you pinpoint the very moment that you forgot your wallet?


    Myself: That¡¯s hard to say. Looking back on it I can remember when I last told myself to get my wallet, and then I can remember a specific point where I had completely forgotten. But the point where I actually forgot? That would kind of be paradoxical.


    Mr. DeWitt: Exactly. And let''s say that right now you had forgotten something. Your keys, an anniversary, anything. How would you know?


    Myself: That''s the paradox. You cannot know what you forgot until you remember.


    Mr. DeWitt: So with your wallet, did you notice you forgot it when you reached for it or when your wife asked you for it?


    Myself: When my wife asked for it to select the specific credit card she wanted to use.


    Mr. DeWitt: So her asking you for the wallet sparked your memory of the wallet and then allowed you to realise you had forgotten it to start with?


    Myself: Yes, exactly.


    Mr. DeWitt: So what if she had not asked for your wallet? When would you remember it?


    Myself: Maybe when we got to the register. Or when I needed it for something.


    Mr. DeWitt: So without that spark to bring forward your memory, there is no telling when, or even if you would ever remember your wallet. If you ended up not buying anything you may have made it back home without ever realising you forgot your wallet. Even this morning when you came to work you could have grabbed your wallet but not remembered that you forgot your wallet yesterday.


    Myself: That is a logical assumption. But where are you going with this?


    Mr. DeWitt: Because I am the only person who remembers the wallet. I am the only person who remembers Sarah. And try as I might, I cannot spark anyone else''s memory of her. You may as well be standing at the register ready to buy something, the cashier asking for your money, and yet you are still unable to remember that you even have a wallet. You are stuck perpetually in a ¡®forgotten¡¯ state and cannot be jared out of it.


    Myself: So you are stating that everyone has mass amnesia aside from you?


    Mr. DeWitt: Yes, but even more so. The world has forgotten about Sarah. Her very existence was wiped clean. Anything she ever touched, or influenced was wiped away like our own memory.


    Myself: As a fellow medical professional you understand how that sounds, right? You are claiming the rest of the world is sick and you are the only healthy person. And what is more, the physical world itself has been altered to fit the amnesiac version of the story. .


    Mr. DeWitt: slowly looking up at me. I know, crazy right? But I have a theory of how it works. That thing that I saw in the aquarium, somehow it takes people and all evidence they ever existed away. Family, friends, coworkers all forget about that person. Even things that person had one in their life are wiped away as if they never existed. And that trigger, the spark to remind people of the missing is forever gone leaving the world in a state of amnesia. Stuck in that place of having forgotten your wallet but unable to recall what it is that you forgot. Or worse, not even knowing that you forgot.


    Myself: And let''s say that your theory is true. Why do you remember Sarah when nobody else does? How are you the only person whose memory was unaffected?


    Mr. DeWitt: I, I don¡¯t know. Maybe because I was close to her? Maybe because I was there that night as well? I honestly do not know. His head sulked back down as he thought through the situation.


    Myself: Mr. DeWitt, I want you to remember that the reason that you are here is because you are trying to hurt yourself. While your theory is certainly interesting, we need to get you feeling better. We need you to stop trying to hurt yourself. That is step one. So can you tell me why you feel compelled to hurt yourself?


    Mr. DeWitt: Looking back up at me once more with tears in his eyes. Because I can hear the people who are going missing. At first I just wanted the banging to stop, but now the screaming is just too much. I can hear it chasing them. Each step it takes, Boom...boom¡­.boom, faster and faster until it feels like an earthquake. At first they don''t seem to notice it, but when they do the screaming starts. As it gets closer they scream louder. Louder and louder. Every time it is a different voice. Every time they try and fight. Every time they all go silent.


    He paused and looked towards my window.


    Mr. DeWitt: It is starting again. The thing that took Sarah is staking someone else now. The steps will be paced out almost 20 seconds apart, and over the next few minutes will quicken. I don''t hear any screaming yet but soon, soon it will start. That is what I think I can hear. That thing that I saw. I don''t know why but I can hear it. And I will be the last person to hear the voice of whoever the victim is this time, as well as likely the only person to ever remember their voice.


    Myself: So you want the pain to go away? You feel that you are being forced to listen to the death of others time and time again?


    Mr. DeWitt: It is too much to tolerate. I want to die.


    Myself: Reaching forward and placing my hand on his shoulder. I will help you. We all will. Once we can get to the core of this issue, these sounds, and fix them then you will be able to live a happy life once more. You are my patient and therefore I will take care of you to the very best of my ability.


    Mr. DeWitt: Glanced up at me with a weak smile. Thank you. He paused and dropped his head again, the smile fading.


    Mr. DeWitt: I can hear someone screaming again. This time it sounds like a teenage boy.


    Myself: Can you tell where the sound is coming from? Can you describe any details to me?


    Mr. DeWitt: All I can tell you is that it sounds far away. I don''t know any direction or distance but somehow can hear it loud and clear. Oh god. He started struggling against his restraints at this point. What about this kid¡¯s mother. His father? Will anyone remember him? Is anyone there even trying to help him? I don''t even know how many people I¡¯ve already listened to disappear. .


    At this point he started flailing around in his wheelchair. He was securely strapped in but he was starting to become highly unstable so I pressed the panic button under the armrest of my chair.


    Myself: You need to calm down Mr. DeWitt.


    Mr. DeWitt: Calm down? How can I calm down when people are getting abducted or worse? How many people have we already forgotten about in our lives? 10 people? 100 people? More? I don''t know, I forgot. And you forgot as well. We all forgot. Who were they? What were their names? Their faces?


    Several orderlies came in and held him still long enough to inject him with a sedative. He was too far gone for our session to continue.


    Post Meeting Notes:


    Mr. DeWitt is quite the troubled young man. He is in pain and we need to relieve that pain. Anyone can be introduced to enough pain to make them commit self harm and even suicide. So to stop those impulses we need to stop his pain.


    The problem is where to start?


    We have been cycling him through several drugs to see if any can help his delusions but so far none have proven effective. Hypnotherapy only worsened his symptoms so we will not be trying that again. Maybe we should consider a more surgical solution.


    His words do ring a bit of truth though. In my reviews of similar cases (which I will not tell him about for fear of it over exciting him again) the few coherent people said similar things such as the missing people being forgotten by everyone. And how can you remember what you have forgotten? You cannot without something to spark that memory.


    Even still, we need to treat his pain first and foremost.


    That is all for the day as my wife and I still have many things on my to-do list for the baby. The next few month are going to be very busy. Well, the next several years are going to be quite busy.

 Personal Notes 2

    Valley Hill Mental Hospital


    Psychiatrist: Dr. William Branton


    Personal Journal


    Date:21Mar


    So in the past week my work seems to have gotten ahead of me. My normal neat and tidy desk seems to be more of a mountain of papers that I need to find the time to organise. My home life is just as cluttered too. Who knew how much stuff you would have to do to prepare for a child.


    Crib assembly, toys and diapers purchased, childproofing, and so on. Honestly I am enjoying every minute of it. My wife and I have tried so long and to finally be rewarded with a child is bliss.


    My patients are keeping me busy as well. Mr. Taylor seems to have made a recovery and is in the process of being released. He has not attempted to harm himself or shown any signs of violent behavior in some time now. His phobias are gone and he does not even resemble the plagued man that I first met.


    That being said, he still does seem to be suffering from depression, but this is easily being managed by medication. He also still thinks that his missing friend Jerry did exist however he has seemed to accept that it is just a flaw in his own memory at this point. The mind is an imperfect tool and can deceive us, but as long as you keep a firm grasp on reality then there is nothing to worry with.


    I do get the notion that Mr. Taylor may sometimes see things that he does not tell us about. It is nothing certain but just his eye movement from time to time when looking outside. He seems to follow things or steal quick glances in directions where nothing appears to be. But this may also simply be related to a nervous twitch being incited by his depression. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Either way he has improved by leaps and bounds and is already coordinating with his family for his release. I doubt he will be able to continue flying as he previously did however an early retirement may be exactly what he needs.


    Then there is Mr. DeWitt. He has been, well, harder to work with. His outbursts are frequent and intense, requiring a steady amount of sedatives to keep him from harming himself and others. Honestly at this point I have already proposed to the board to try lobotomization. We may be able to remove a small portion of the sound sensory part of his brain in order to ease his pain. The will likely cause him to become deaf, however I feel that Mr. DeWitt would view this as a blessing.


    Granted, this is a risky procedure, and worst case he could be reduced to a vegetative state. However extreme the treatment may be, his case is already extreme. Each day he becomes more aggressive and I fear for both his life and well being. If we take too long to help him the damage done to his mind may become irreversible.


    I have been pouring over the other cases similar to my patients and have drafted a memo to several psychiatric institutions and collectives to try and see if they know of any more cases and likely find a connection between them. Honestly it may be nothing, but it is worth looking into.


    Its at times like this when I am deep in thought that I can find myself reaching for the corner of my desk. It¡¯s odd because I catch myself in that moment feeling that I am reaching for a cigar however I don''t have any at my desk, and never have. I keep a few at home for the rare occasion I get the urge but I have never kept any here at the office. I get the strange feeling that maybe I forgot something.


    Something important¡­


    Oh well, I¡¯ll remember one day. Now I need to finish processing Mr. Taylor¡¯s release documents and then follow up with the medical procedure for Mr. DeWitt. Once all that is done I need to arrange these papers so I can actually see the top of my desk for once. Dave and his wife called last night to make plans for the weekend. Linda is going to take Katie out shopping while Dave and myself are going out fishing on his boat again. He said he found a good spot the other day so we should have a good haul if the weather holds.

 Forgotten

    Today is 24Mar. I think. Maybe 25. I¡¯m not sure. Its not like I can even trust my own mind anymore. I am writing this down because I don¡¯t know what else to do. I can¡¯t talk to anyone about this or I¡¯ll be committed alongside many of my patients. What I experienced, what I saw. What I still see is beyond explanation.


    My friend Dave no longer exists. Just like the stories of my patients, he has simply vanished. We went out fishing the other day and it all started simply enough. We went to a new spot he had found and the weather was clear. There was not a cloud in the sky and only a slight breeze as we set out our lines. We talked about all the recent changes in our lives and our plans for the future.


    I was the first to notice it. Something in the distance just on the horizon didn¡¯t look right. It was as if the sea itself was elevated in a precise spot. I would have thought that maybe it was a illogically large wave if it were not for the perculure angularity of it. Straight edges and corners do not often appear on waves. It was as if there was a cube of the ocean placed on top of the ocean itself.


    Dave and I passed a pair of binoculars between ourselves in amazement. He thought it might be something similar to a waterspout however this was impossible as well. There was no movement in the structure, no clouds above it, no shifting in the water around it or anything adverse we could see. It was some form that denied the laws of nature.


    I was apprehensive but when Dave stated that we should go investigate I did not voice any complaint. He had lived most his life on the sea and I was no stranger to it either, and something like this was begging us to take a closer look so we reeled up our lines and started in that direction. As we approached the enigma we lost sight of the shore line, which was another oddity because we weren¡¯t far enough out for that. We were less than 2 miles from the shore originally and considering the distance we covered we should have been able to still see land however it vanished beyond the horizon all the same.


    As we approached the elevated section of the sea it grew to unparallelled proportions. It truly seemed to reach the heavens above and seeing the top was a fool¡¯s errand even when we were still quite a ways away. We decided to not get closer than ? mile seeing as we had no idea what it was and what it may do to our ship but at that distance we were allowed a view that we couldn''t not fathom. While it appeared from a distance to be a cube or a wall of some sort, up close it was actually full of impossible geometry. It was like an optical illusion, a living representation of a Escher painting where stairs twist and turn illogically so too did the surface of this sea formation. Some parts on the surface appeared circular but depending on how one looked it could simultaneously look angular.


    It made me dizzy just looking at it.


    We took pictures best we could and tried to radio in our finding but all we heard was static. We could not pick up anything on the radio or any other devices. Even my cell phone lost all service. We decided to try and sail around it before heading back. Even though the structure¡¯s height was at an impressive magnitude, the base was manageable appearing to be maybe a mile long on the side facing us. We could clearly see the straight corners on either side of us indicating that at least it was a cube¡¯ish shape as a whole.


    As we sailed, however, the edge of the structure evaded us. No matter how far we traveled we did not appear any closer to the edge. We picked up speed and and there was no change, it was as if the corner moved away from us as fast as we traveled, or maybe we weren¡¯t moving at all.


    After some time considering this we decided to head back to the shore. We turned the ship around and put the cube behind us and started making our way home. As Dave manned the helm I had the urge to take a few more pictures of the structure. I went around and froze at what I saw. Back at the cube, or where the cube should have been, was a large vertical wall of ocean that spanned across my entire vision. Dave called back to me that we were about to go through some fog but I paid it no mind. If i arched my neck and looked as far up as I could I could see something just on the rim of the ocean what was becoming clearer the further we traveled.


    It was the coast line. As we sailed through the fog a realization hit me. We were someone now on the cube itself and I was staring back at the actual ocean. We were sailing upward, at a near 90 degree angle in defiance of everything I knew. And that fog. That was a cloud.


    I yelled to get Dave to stop which he promptly reduce the speed to idle. We both peered around us in amazement. How did we get onto this structure without even getting close? We maintained our distance the entire time and besides, how can we even sail onto this? We would simply crash into it if we tried.


    In front of us was now a star filled evening sky that appeared much darker than it should. I was starting to panic. This was insane. I couldn¡¯t understand or comprehend what was going on. And more importantly how we are going to get back.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Dave turned the ship around and started heading back from the direction they came. But even this provided full of complications. The sailing surface shifted along with all of the strange shapes and without adjusting our direction we were getting turned around time and time again. Even if we angled the ship directly towards the intersection of the ocean and the structure and sailed strait, in short time we would find ourselves looking at the stars once more.


    I am unsure of how long this lasted however Dave did not give into the pressure as I had. I was borderline helpless as Dave tried his hardest to rescue us both. He seemed to sense this as he called for me to go back below deck and try to radio in again for help. I happily agreed and went back to calling mayday.


    This carried on for quite some time. I was unclear how many times I had called out on the radio but eventually I heard David scream. I jumped up to run to him but paused as he yelled for me not to come out. He pleaded for me to stay where I was. I froze as I was conflicted to either help or heed his warnings. Within moments he went silent and I lost my restraint. I couldn''t stay here while he needed my help, yet as I emerged from below deck he was gone. I quickly surveyed the deck but there was no trace of him. I glanced overboard but there was no disturbance in the water to indicate he had fallen either. As I started to scan the horizon I saw it.


    At what I would assume to be the top of this structure a beast moved just enough over the horizon for me to catch a quick glimpse of. IT was a mangled mess of impossibilities and despair. A horrifyingly humanoid form crossed with creatures from the depths of the ocean with a touch of hell it shifted around only half in my vision. And just behind this monstrocity was a crack in space itself. It was as if the most clear window in the world was broken and only the area where the light reflected roughly could be seen. Last I could hear what I could only describe as an ancient language not spoken by a human mouth and not meant for mortal¡¯s ears. I instinctively covered my ears yet it provided no relief.


    Best I could tell the creature paid me no concern as it disappeared behind the horizon one more. Had it taken David? I do not know.


    I rushed back to steer the ship and now found myself fighting the currents of the water that had not existed before. I once more focussed on the intersection of this watery structure and the ocean with a single goal in mind; survive. I grasped the wheel hard enough for my knuckles to whiten and my fingers ache but I paid it no heed. And kept fighting against whatever force was trying to keep me disoriented. I was cutting the wheel sharply to the left and the right as I refused to give in.


    I grew closer and closer to the intersection however at around the quarter mile mark I found I could not get any closer. Once again, no matter had fast I travelled the intersection remained at a fixed distance in front of me. I turned the wheel and started sailing around the structure in an attempt to find some way off this unholy thing yet I appeared to remain fixed in space. I set the throttle wide open and just kept steering against the currents.


    I fixated on this one goal and ignored all else around me.


    That was until I heard the crash. I looked up and only then realized how fixated I had been as I looked around and realized somehow I had once again crossed the threshold. I was back in the ocean looking up at the collapsing tower of impossibility. It made not a single disturbance in the ocean waters as an ocean worth of water crashed downwards. I once again looked on in awe before being pulled to my senses and deciding to leave the area as quickly as possible. I put the falling structure behind me as I rushed back to the shore.


    Upon docking the ship I once more scoured it for Dave but there was still no sign of him. I rushed home and found my pregnant wife returning from her afternoon of shopping. I stopped before approaching her however and collected myself. If I ran up to her yelling everything that I had seen and about Dave it would terrify her. Different than my patients, I understood how quickly this could escalate and my very sanity questioned. From their stories, the person they were with that disappeared no longer existed after their return so I could learn all I needed from asking simple questions that I could dismiss if brought up again. This was going to be tough as my heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest.


    I approached her and asked how shopping was and she responded by showing me the loads of deals that she had come across. I feigned interest as best as I could before asking if she had gone with anyone while shopping. She looked at me as if I had asked a strange question before laughing that she had already told me that her and Linda were meeting up. I acted as if it had slipped my mind before asking how Linda was doing.


    Katie laughed a little and said that Linda was more excited about us having a child than even we were. I nodded as this seemed typical of our friend, however what she said next broke my heart.


    ¡°Linda said you need to set her up on a date with one of your single friends. She hasn¡¯t found any luck in the dating market recently.¡±


    Dave was no more. Not even a memory. Later I had gone through all my photos and found he was missing from every one. I reached out to a few other mutual friends and none remembered him. I dismissed the follow up questions as if he was an old friend that I didn¡¯t expect them to remember.


    I am still unsure of what happened to him and will likely never have an answer.


    In the following days though I noticed something peculiar. I started seeing light coming off of people as if they were incredibly thin strings. I myself had quite a few that seemed to radiate from my chest. In my familiarity with my patients, I was expecting something like this to happen but I didn¡¯t know how it would manifest.


    If i tried to grab or hold these strings my hand simply passed through them as if they were but wisps of smoke. They seemed truly intangible and after my wife saw me waving around in front of my chest I had to be more mindful of my actions. I noticed that many, ir not most of these strings were connected to other people. For example, the most prominent string connected me to my wife. The next brightest one was broken off only a few feet in front of me and aimlessly waved about. All in all, there were five such broken strings.


    My theory is that these are somehow representations of the bonds between people. If someone was to go missing then the bond would be broken. I found that if I stare at one long and hard I can get a grasp of maybe who the person was. Out of all the broken bonds, the second one seemed to be Dave¡¯s. When looking into it I could see a man about my age with features that matched my memory of him. It wasn¡¯t much, and I could only hold the image only briefly, but it was enough to confirm what I had thought.


    The brightest broken bond confused me to a great extent. There was a young boy in his teens. His features seemed very familiar but I could not place them. It wasn¡¯t until I noticed the same broken string coming from my wife that I truly understood what we had lost, even though I will never know our first son.