The Doppelgänger: A Psychological Thriller (20 page)

A stranger brushed past me. She was moving farther away.

Like a moth attracted to the flame, my feet moved toward her. My hands reached her shoulder. Before she took another step, I extended my hand and touched her. She turned. I stood before her. Her blue eyes froze on me. I remembered her wispy blonde hair from my memories. She stood before me. I smelled the magnolia perfume that she liked. She was too vivid to be a dream.

Tears streamed down my face. After five years, we were together again. My fingers lingered over her fragile shoulders. She pulled away.

“Mom.” My lips parted. My eyes clouded with emotion. I couldn’t see clearly.

Chapter 24

D’s Story (Contd.)

“Darcy?” Her voice. An inexplicable distance colored her eyes. Disgust. Fear. Pain. She examined me suspiciously. I couldn’t reply. Strangers passed me by. Time stopped.

“Mom…..” I said. I inched closer. She backed away. I stopped.

“How did you find me?” she asked. Her eyebrows knitted together.

“Hello.” I said. My heart was full of emotion. I didn’t hear the words I said. I wanted to ask her the questions that troubled me for years.

“I want to ask you something,” I said.

“I don’t have time-” She turned to leave.

“Did you leave because of me?”

She stopped. Her slender black heels threw her off balance. She stood up, steady. Her back faced me. She didn’t say anything.

“Did you leave me because of me?” I asked. I struggled to keep the tears from flowing. They lubricated my eyes. The hazy image metamorphosed into a scene of the rainy night she left. The memory played in her conflicted eyes. She didn’t move.

Her eyes held mine as she nodded. Tears pricked my eyes. I held them back. I struggled to breathe. She took another step back. She turned away.

“What are you doing in Chicago?” she asked.

“I live here. I study here,” I said. Resentment rose through my blood.

“Hmmmm.” I noticed her fists her clenched. Her fingers dug into the handle of her purse. Her jaw was tight. Only her lips moved when she spoke.

“I am better now,” I said. I didn’t know what to say. Nothing prepared me for this moment. Her cool disinterest glazed over my troubled mind. Hatred surged in my veins.

No. Not again.

My blood ran hot. A desire for destruction possessed me. My breaths came jaggedly. I fought the impulse. My brain chemicals were at it once again.

“I’m…I’m glad to hear that.” she said, hesitantly. She saw the madness in my eyes. I wanted her. I wanted her love. But she wanted to run away. Run away from what I had become. The nerves on my head protruded as I tried to contain the anger.

“Bye,” she said in an urgent tone. She turned to leave. I watched her back move away. I grabbed her wrist. She turned around suddenly.

“Why did you leave?” I asked. Her blue eyes faced me.

“Let me go,” she said. She tried to break free from my grip. Her voice was steely with determination. I knew she still feared me. My grip tightened. My fingers dug into her pale skin.

“Why did you abandon me?” I asked. Resentment bubbled in my veins. Anger clouded my mind. She didn’t deserve to be here. I wanted to return the pain she had inflicted on me.

“You’re not fine.” she repeated.

“Neither are you,” I said.

“Let me go.” My mother’s gaze remained steady.

“I needed you. You should’ve stayed with me when I needed you.” I wasn’t convinced. “You left me alone there.”

“That was the best I could do,” my mother said, her eyes lowered.

“I loved you,” I said. “I’ve always loved you.”

“Let me go. I don’t know who you are.” Her voice was desperate. The hatred within me grew.

I let her go forcefully. Rage coursed through my veins. I backed off then charged toward my mother. In a fit of rage, I pushed her into the wall. Before I could gather what happened, her head hit the wall. I gasped. Strangers turned. Her thin skull cracked. Her body sunk to the floor, leaving a trail of blood on the wall. Horrified, I jerked away.

I turned around. I was panting. Everybody was staring at me. The crowd gathered around her body, whispering nasty words. The sounds filled my disturbed mind. The walls of my heart closed in on me. I was breathless. They continued to chatter. They pointed fingers. They knew what I had done.

Reality began to seep in when I heard the sound of sirens fifteen minutes later. My eyes moved over my mother’s body lying on the floor. Her head rested against the stone wall. She was dead. The horrible scene swirled in my mind. I closed my eyes. Tears ran down my face. Regret, guilt and anger clouded my mind. I didn’t mean to kill her. It was a mistake.

Feelings gripped me. Her closed eyes were serene. That was the most peaceful moment of her life. From the distance, I saw the remnants of the disaster I had created. It sunk in, sending waves of guilt, pain and disgust through my heart. I was a murderer.

The crowd parted. Two police officers made their way to me. Their eyes fell on my mother then, rewound to me. I stood there, expressionless. The policemen glanced around. Strangers stood surrounding her body. There were too many witnesses. Everybody at the subway station had witnessed the incident. They took me to the police station.

I didn’t deny the charges. A government lawyer was brought in. After a lengthy trial, I was sentenced to ten years in prison. That’s where I spent the next ten years of my life.

My youth was lost in the four walls of the prison. Each day was the same. At some point, I stopped recognizing day and night. The eternal grey became my sky and my life.

All that time, I could only think of the lesson that my mother taught me. I had let my bad side dominate me. I only made one mistake in life. And that mistake ruined my life.

The prison was a lonely place. The walls echoed darkness and misery. I didn’t eat the food most of the days. I didn’t know who I was. Every inch of my memory was haunted by my mother. I remembered my childhood. I remembered the time it was all okay.

Her soft eyes were as clear as the ocean. Her voice was soothing. It sang in my ears. When I opened my eyes, I saw the grey walls. It was the grave of hope. My mother existed only in my memory. My fading, unreliable memory.

The newspaper arrived one morning. I tore it open. Since prisoners weren’t allowed to do much, I satisfied myself with reading. I eyeballed through the news. The headline caught my attention.

Testing of the Dimension Crawler Begins

The dimension crawler was a machine that sought to expand our understanding of parallel universes. The government poured years of work and money into it. It was the stuff science fiction was made of.

The dimension crawler could be used to transcend the four dimensions that defined our universe. It promised to change the destiny of humankind. The instant I saw the article, something clicked in my mind. Like everyone, I too believed the crawler could change the world.

For the rest of the week, the newspapers sang the praises of the project everyday. Eventually, the interest fizzed out. Like every other scientific discovery, it became apparent that it would take dozens of years to develop into anything tangible.

My counselling sessions began soon after. The court insisted I receive treatment for schizophrenia. At that point, I could barely distinguish reality and my memories.

One morning, the prison guard took me to a small, narrow corridor that led to a large room. That was where I saw him for the first time. In a white coat, he stood like a tiger. His clear blue eyes radiated an enigma that affected me. He was different.

Dr. Cleo was not like the others. He was the founder of a company that specialized in manufacturing drugs to treat mental illnesses. The guard left me inside and shut the door.

Dr. Cleo examined me queerly. His sharp gaze made me uneasy.

“Good morning,” he said, after a minute. His voice was low and raspy. He didn’t look at me. He leafed through a file that contained my medical history. I sat on the chair beside him.

“I’m Darcy,” I said. My voice was tiny. I hadn’t been eating regularly. The prison food made me nauseous. I had no desire to live. I couldn’t sleep at night. Images of that horrific incident haunted my mind. It was always her in my dream. Every time I woke up, her face faded away.

“Good to see you Darcy,” he said. There was a lightness to his raspy voice.

“Ummmmm….” I said. I didn’t look into his eyes.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?” he asked in an airy tone.

“No.” My eyes were colored with hopelessness. I didn’t face him.

He hesitated.

“I don’t know if your therapist ever told you this…” he began. His eyes narrowed in on her. He was serious. “You have schizophrenia. Sometimes, you can’t distinguish between your thoughts and reality.”

I didn’t react.

“Many factors could cause such an illness,” he said. I moved in the chair and looked up. “Your mother had a history of mental illness.”

My eyes enlarged.

“You also show some signs of bipolar disorder however, they’re not very developed. Your mother was bipolar,” he went on. I turned to Dr. Cleo, speechless.

“You didn’t know,” he remarked, dryly.

“No. I didn’t,” I confessed.

“Your father mentioned that you had a difficult childhood.”

“My mother left me when I was fifteen because she was afraid of me,” I recited morosely.

“Why do you think she did that?” he asked. I swallowed. The conversation was fresh in my mind. So was the image of her.

“I killed two men when I was in high school,” I said. He didn’t flinch. His gaze remained steady. I inhaled. “That’s why. She was afraid of me. She wanted to leave me.”

“What did you feel when you…uh…killed those men?” he asked – things nobody had ever asked her. They were all afraid of her but he wasn’t.

“I was possessed.” My enlarged eyes turned to him. “I was possessed by the desire to kill. The noise in my head was so loud. I wanted it to shut up, but it kept telling me to do something. So, I caught old of the knife on the floor and drove it through him.”

I inhaled, trying to suppress the queasiness rising in my belly.

“I see,” he jotted down what I said. “Anything else?”

“I hated them. I hated everything they did to me…everything they stood for.”

“And, have you hated anyone else so…intensely?”

“No.”

“What about your mother?”

I was surprised. He made eye contact.

“I loved her,” she said.

“You loved her?”

A thin film of tears formed on the surface of my eyes.

“I really did,” she said. “When she fell to the floor…I never thought she’d die. I didn’t want to-I couldn’t control myself. How could she not see how much I needed her?”

I broke down. I buried my face in my palms. He sat behind the desk silently. He waited for me to calm down.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a long pause.

“I loved her so much. Even when she tried to kill me…even when she tried to suffocate me-”

“That’s-”

“I loved her. I wanted to go back to how she was before…before she became that.”

He nodded empathetically. I took a few minutes to calm down. He waited. When I was calmer, he sat down before me.

“We’re experimenting on some new treatments,” he said. “I recently started a company. It’s called Ambrosia. We make drugs that can help you.”

“What kind of drugs?” I asked.

“Ones that help you forget selectively.”

“Is that possible?” Realization throbbed at the back of my mind.

“Darcy, you need to let go of her. You need to let go of those unpleasant memories so you can move on,” he said. “You’ve suffered enough. This treatment will help you erase the pain. You’ll still remember the good times but you won’t remember what happened at fifteen or at eight. Do you want to try it?” he looked at her intensely.

I was silent. 

“I’ll give you new memories,” he said. I remained silent. “We’ll give you the life you always wanted. A happy childhood, a loving family…anything.”

“Why? How?”

“You can’t go on like this,” he said. “Your condition is worsening. This is the only way out. The drugs haven’t been tested yet but…I think this could work. We’ll need three sessions. I’ll first work on erasing bits of your memory. Then, I’ll re-program your mind with new ones. Is it something you’d want to do?”

“I…I want to try.” I said.

“I’ll need a signed consent form,” he said. “The prison authorities will collect it from you.”

I heard a knock on the door. He opened the door. One of the prison guards stood outside the door. “It’s time for you to leave.” Dr. Cleo said.

“When will I see you again?”

“We can begin the treatment next week.” he said.

The prison guards escorted me out of the room. My gaze remained on Dr. Cleo who stood at the door and watched her leave. He gave me hope. That was all I needed.

I met him the following week. This time, we didn’t talk. He asked me to sit down on the chair. I ate two pea sized red tablets. Fifteen minutes after swallowing them, I went into a state of trance. Everything in the room appeared like a dream.

“I’m going to hypnotize you,” he said. “Delve into the deepest parts of your memory and form new ones.”

He counted to ten. When he clicked, voices vanished. I saw eternal darkness. My core was black. It disillusioned me.

“You had a happy childhood,” his raspy voice embedded itself in my memory. He repeated the words over and over again.

But all I saw in the darkness was the ugliness that lay buried in the cavity of my heart. He uttered incomprehensible words that slipped into a crevice between my conscious and subconscious mind. His words swam with my own thoughts creating a toxic cocktail of painful memories.

The thoughts swirled deeper into my mind. I was breathless. A shooting pain seeped through my heart. I was drunk on the concoction, slipping deeper into an abyss. The ray of light at the surface grew further until I couldn’t see it anymore.

I was in a dark room that resembled the prison walls. It immediately solidified to resemble the prison walls. However, the walls were a bloody red, overlapping the image of the red barn. The wallpaper was peeling off, just like my memories. The sound of disturbed wails echoed in my ears. I shut them is a desperate attempt to block the sound.

I heard footsteps. They grew in a crescendo. I shut my eyes tightly. When I opened them, I saw a shadow next to me. It solidified into a strikingly familiar portrait.

Mom. Her gentle smile melted my heart. She inched closer to me. We cuddled together. Her warmth seeped into me. Her fingers trembled. I held on tighter, unwilling to let go of the memory. Her embrace was so tight that it made me breathless.

Tears streamed down my eyes. The ray of light that disappeared emerged once again. This time, it was red. My fingers wrapped around her waist and drew her in. My tears fell on her blouse and disappeared. Her soft skin melted into mine.

A shadow stretched over me. The footsteps were gone. Instead, I saw Dr. Cleo gazing down on me. His eyes were dark. I saw a silver object shine on his belt. I drew a sharp breath in.

“Forget her, let her go…” his harsh voice yelled. The sounds merged into a kaleidoscope images of torture, pain and misery. They were a reflection of my feelings. The echoes of troubled voices in my mind pierced my senses.

Nothing mattered. My gaze remained on my mother. She was here. She was the only thing that mattered. I didn’t hear his words, but he came closer to my mother. He drew a revolver from his pocket. Its silvery sheen blinded me.