I creep quietly up to the peephole and look out. It’s the police. It’s a weekday evening. I don’t answer the door. I almost never do when someone drops by unannounced. I’m definitely not answering this call to order.
DISSOCIATION
My pulse races. I don’t move. They knock again. I step back from the door without making a sound. I’m instantly shooting a hundred miles down an invisible track without moving. What do they want? I’ve done nothing. I’m certain. Never mind my mind as it starts spinning out copious crazy possibilities. I feel sick.
MELTDOWN
I have a silent full on meltdown while lying on my bed. My whole body goes into spasms and I can’t control it. A million electrical shocks are firing throughout my body all at the same time. I’ve gone somewhere else. I lay there letting it happen. I’ve re-tripped backwards before. I stay with it this time, for the first time. I wait it out. It takes almost half an hour before involuntary, uncontrollable full body shakes cease erupting.
ABREACTION
The knocks have stopped. I get up shakily and check the peephole again. They’re gone. I wait at least an hour before I check outside the door to see if there’s any note left. Nothing. No idea what they want. Hours later and I still can’t calm down. It’s going to fester now. They will be back. I’ll have to deal with it at some point.
FROZEN TERROR
I’m on edge now, in a state of hyper vigilance.I feel paranoid. The next time the knocks come, a couple days later, it’s just before nine in the morning. It’s the weekend. I’m still in bed. I freeze there. I can’t move. I’m sure they’re listening for sounds of life. I’m panicking quietly again. More knocks. Finally, I’m able to slip slowly and quietly from the bed to check the peephole. It’s the police again. Not this morning. No way. Not dealing with this. No. I back away and wait until they go.
Later on, I’m outside and run into my neighbour. He says, “The police were at your door looking for you, did you know that?” I play stupid. I ask him if they said anything to him. What did they want? He didn’t know. Fabulous. Zero helpfulness with one hundred percent nosiness. I know they’ll be back. Forget enjoying the weekend work break. It’s a red alert, all eyes watching for the police.
HYPER AWARE
It didn’t take long. The next day, I’d gone down to my locker in the late afternoon. I needed something. I’m in the elevator going up. As I am, I have the thought that when I get to my floor, the police will be at my door. I often get these kinds of intuitive feelings before something takes place. Nothing new there. I mentally steel myself. Time to deal with whatever it is. I’ve done nothing wrong, no rational reason to be terrified.
There is what I know I’m terrified of. Any police are a trigger pull reminder, but that’s another story.
NINE CUFFED
Off step from elevator. I walk silently to the corner and pause before I turn it. My apartment is way down at the end of the hall. I can’t hear anything. I can feel him standing at my door. I take a breath and walk around the corner, down towards my apartment. There’s a police officer standing there, about to knock on my door. I’m not surprised. I felt him there before I ever got off the elevator.
FATHER
Halfway down the hall I call out to him, “Can I help you?” He asks me if I’m so and so. I confirm that I am. He tells me that he has some news for me. He wants to come into my apartment. That’s not going to happen. I know how they think. I’ll never allow them in my apartment without a warrant. I tell him in the hallway is fine, while I filter out the rest of my thoughts.
We stand in the hall. He identifies himself as sergeant so and so. A sergeant??? I take his badge number and info, as is my habit. He asks me if my date of birth is such and such. I confirm. He tells me my father has passed away. He really means dead. I tell him my father’s been very ill for a long time, since he’s looking me over, studying my facial expression and body language. All the things I’m not going to say to him. He’d never believe me anyway. I play the role he’s looking for instead.
DIED
I didn’t expect to find out this way. In the moment, I am more in shock about a police sergeant being at my door than the fact that my father is dead. I disconnect from that. I ask him when this happened and who sent him to my door. I already know, but I want that confirmation. He has to radio in to check. I slump against the wall. I let my body slacken. The sergeant’s eyes stay fixed on my face.
Finally he says, “Your brother contacted us, do you want me to replay the message?” I do. The sergeant plays it. It’s been years since I’ve heard that voice. I shudder inside. It’s short and to the point with an assumed authority, typical of him.
When, when did my father die? It was on Valentine’s Day. A week and a half later, the police were sent to my door. The sergeant’s being very kind now. He’s playing his part of the script. He offers his contact information, should I need anything. I take it. I thank him and get him on his way. I need to be alone.
NOW.
ALONE
I’m going through something I haven’t experienced in several years. My brother sent the death notice via the police, a sergeant of all things. I get the message loud and clear. He meant it that way. He meant to remind me of many, many things. That’s why he chose to send the police to my door. He used to be a police officer. Reminder remaining, he still has power to reach out and hurt me. From my many years of research, psychopaths don’t start running out of steam until the age of sixty-five. My life has never been boring.
My brother is a psychopath.
PSYCHO SPIRAL
All photos taken by Nine with a Pentax digital 35mm camera and 90mm Tamron macro lens.
