Outpatient - A Story of Horror and Madness by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 10

Catherine sat in her car crying for the next 15 minutes when she noticed that her face and hands had become numb, she started the breathing exercise that Dr. Beach taught her. It took another 20 minutes for Catherine to bring herself to the point where she could start her car and begin the drive back home.

On her way, Catherine started to become obsessed with the idea of going back into the hospital. Her logical mind told her that this was an unlikely possibility, but she was slowly becoming more paranoid, and it was gradually beginning to overwhelm her ability to reason clearly. Her response to this was to bury herself in her search for a house. She made her way out of town and just after passing the town's welcome sign, she smelled a bit of smoke in her car. Catherine sniffed at the air and, thinking it might be an engine problem, pulled over and got out.

“Fuck!” she yelled. “I don't have the fucking time for this shit!”

She put her hand on the hood of the car, then took a few steps back – it was only warm. Logic told her there might still be a problem, but instinct whispered in her ear, telling her that she was falling apart. She opened the hood, hoping to find something. That would certainly be better than losing her mind, and upon examining the engine it was obvious to Catherine that it was in perfect order. She looked closer, still hoping to find a problem. But, there was nothing – no frayed wires, no melted insulation, and all the belts looked like they had just come off the shelf – and she still smelled smoke. She closed the hood, letting it fall into its latch underneath.

“God, this can't be happening!” she said quietly to herself.

She began to think this might be the beginning of something that just might bring her illness out of remission. Stepping back away from her car by about 20 feet, she smelled the air again. This time there was no hint of smoke.

Now, her fear rose out of confusion. She smelled smoke in the car, but there seemed to be nothing wrong, and when she walked away the smell was gone. Catherine went back to the car and knelt by each wheel well in order to feel the brakes.

“Maybe one of them is locking up,” she said to herself.

But the car wasn't pulling to one side or another, and the brakes were fairly cool.

“Shit!” she cursed.

She got back in the car and frantically searched for a rational explanation. She felt the dash, checked the ashtray, looked at all the carpets and seats, and found nothing. The smell got stronger, but there was no visible smoke. When Catherine realized this, she knew there was nothing wrong with her car, but there was something wrong and she could feel it. It gnawed at her brain like a single fire ant that somehow found its way into her head, but she didn't want to think about it. She just wanted to get home.

She started her car again and began driving north on Route 27. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the wheel, and her eyes began to tear up. Catherine's face became flushed as she fought back another bout of tears.

“Oh, God!” she said out loud. “Not now!” As soon as she got home, she could take some Lorazepam and get some sleep. Maybe then, this would simply pass, and she could chalk it up as severe anxiety. But, home was about 40 minutes away and Catherine felt as though she was about to fall off the edge of the world, into the dark vacuum of insanity. At the intersection with Route 234, she discovered the highway had been completely blocked by a road crew. They were painting marks on the pavement while setting up a machine that would be used to cut into the asphalt. Catherine pulled over and stopped about 20 feet from the yellow state truck and, still agitated, got out of her car, slammed the door shut, and marched up to the road crew.

“Excuse me, I have to get through,” she said. A broad-shouldered man in an orange vest approached her.

“Sorry, Miss, this part of the road has been closed off. Didn't you see the detour sign back there?” he asked.

“No, I didn't see the detour sign!” she said, rather angrily.

The rest of the road crew stopped working in order to gawk at Catherine as she continued to rant.

“Well, I'm sorry, you"re going to have to go back down Route 2 and east to Norridgewock,” he instructed.

“I know how to get to fucking Norridgewock!” Catherine yelled impatiently.

“And I don't have that kind of time!” She was practically begging now. The rest of the road crew occasionally nudged each other and grinned a bit sarcastically, as though silently commenting on Catherine's agitation. One workman leaned over to another and whispered, “What a head case”.

She continued pleading with them to let her around.

“I just want to go home,” she said.

Her tone was beginning to sound desperate. That's when she noticed the supervisor she'd been yelling at had begun looking her up and down as though she were a side of beef. This made her feel both threatened and angry.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” she

demanded.

The supervisor took a step toward her as she clenched both fists in anticipation of a physical confrontation.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said.

His words were gentle and yet felt menacing at the same time.

“Maybe we can… make a deal,” he said.

Catherine became visibly uncomfortable and quickly grew to despise all of them.

“That truck over there"s pretty big. I'm sure there"d be plenty of room for… all of us,” he said. He glanced back at his coworkers and grinned, getting a chuckle from the entire crew.

“I want to know who your boss is, asshole!” she yelled.

The workers who stood behind the supervisor suddenly dropped their tools and stepped forward and formed a line, standing side by side. The supervisor dropped his radio and took a stance exactly as the men lined up behind him.

“What are you doing?” Catherine demanded. “Don't fucking touch me!” Suddenly, their faces took on a menacing expression, as they began glaring at her with slightly squinted eyes and grinning at her as though with malicious intent.

“Why are you looking at me like that?!” she demanded. “Stop it! I just want to go home!”

The man standing in front of Catherine looked

deeply into her eyes.

“What's the matter, Cat? Don't you want to play with us?” he asked. His voice had become very deep, as though he'd suddenly become possessed. “No… no!” She began to hyperventilate.

“How do you know my name?!” she demanded.

Catherine went from anger to an overwhelming feeling of terror.

“What the hell is going on?!”

“Come and play with us, Cat. Don't worry,

we"ll be gentle,” he said with a taunting grin. “I promise.”

As if on cue, all of them began laughing, making her feel as though she was about to be pulled into some dark, inescapable evil. Catherine"s rant was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up.

“Ma'am, can I help you?” a voice asked. A Maine state police car had stopped just ahead of where she stood.

“Jesus Christ,” she exclaimed. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you!”

She sidestepped over to the car, keeping a watchful eye on the men who stood, still glaring at her.

“Look! I just want to get home, and these assholes want me to get into their truck with hem! They're acting like they're fucking possessed, and I want them arrested!” she ranted.

“Ma'am, are you okay?” the officer asked.

“Can I call an ambulance for you?”

“Didn't you hear me? I want these assholes

arrested!” Her voice was filled with frustration as she pointed back toward the road crew.

“Ma'am… who?” the officer inquired.

Catherine took a deep breath, trying to be patient.

“What do you mean, who?” she asked, as though the officer had been struck dumb. “Them!”

She pointed again, turning back toward the road crew. But there was nothing there – no road crew, no equipment, no lines painted on the pavement. In fact, the dirt on the side of the highway had not been disturbed in the slightest. Catherine stood next to the officer's car, facing the place that now lay empty of the threat she had found herself confronted with. Her eyes suddenly opened wide with shock, as she stared out into empty space. Now, her illness had come screaming out of remission, and she found herself trapped in the twisted, disconnected world of a full-blown psychosis. She turned back to the officer, desperately trying to compose herself, despite the confusion that ran rampant through her mind.

“I'm fine… really, I'm fine,” she said, bringing her hands up in reassurance.

I got into an argument with someone in town… and I just needed to vent.”

“Are you sure?” the officer cautiously asked.

“I can take you to the hospital if you want.”

“No… no, I don't need a hospital!” she said, trying to sound calm. “I'm fine, really. I'm just fine.”

Catherine took a deep breath, trying to convince the officer that she was now calm and in control. “Well, okay…” the officer replied.

“You have a good day now.” He was still a bit suspicious but was persuaded enough by Catherine's demeanor to drive off. After the officer drove away, Catherine looked back, searching for any sign that someone may have been there. She found nothing and the only thing she heard was the low distant howl of the warm summer wind, wandering through the valley.