joelydfm

[joelydfm]

The Mind and Other Useless Organs

(Second chapter now. Who knows when the next will be out?)

Chapter Two-

He was a young man, barely even an adult from what Elaine could tell. She would even describe him as “youthful” if it weren’t for the tired posture and deep eye bags. She remembered from her research that he was only about 20 years old. The boy was accompanied by a nurse and a policeman, dragged into the room by his handcuffs, the kind that connected to his waist and ankles. He nagged them quietly for being rough with him, but he had an expression that said he might not actually care that much. He dropped haphazardly into the chair on the other side of the table, and his cuffs were hooked and secured to it. The nurse and cop left quickly without a word, a bit too carelessly for Elaine’s liking. Here she was, sitting in front of a convicted killer, and now she was alone. Should I change my mind?

Elaine finally looked at Elliot, fully facing him. He shook his head a few different ways, trying to fix his tangled hair without the use of his hands. It would have been almost charming if they were in different circumstances. His hair was light brown, and disheveled, and looked like it hadn’t been washed in a couple days. 

“Are you a detective or something?” he says, breaking Elaine out of her trance. She was silent for a moment, and, for some reason, was gobsmacked at the fact the man is British. British? Have I really not read that anywhere? she thought. After questioning her memory, Elaine finally shook away her thoughts and answered.

“A detective? Oh. no. I’m just a reporter.”

“Okay, good. I told those assholes to leave me the hell alone a long time ago. You have that detective look, though,” he says, looking her up and down, a skinny finger gesturing toward her. Elaine paused before answering, suddenly self-conscious and contemplating what a “detective look” was, but ultimately shook that thought away too. 

“Yeah, no. I’m just here to interview you for a piece I’m doing. You already signed the consent form.”

“Did I?” he said with a skeptical expression. When Elaine pulled out the form and showed him, Elliot simply shrugged and slouched a bit in the metal chair. He started muttering and letting his eyes wander, but his speech slowly became more aggressive as he went. “I don’t remember that, but it’s whatever. So what do you need from me? Want to hear how sorry I am? Well, I’m really sorry. Was that good?” Elaine was taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. Her eyes widened a bit as she put her hands up, almost like a surrender. 

“Woah, dude.” Fuck, stay professional. “I mean- Elliot, I’m not here to make you say that you’re sorry. I’m really just here to get your story. Your perspective, raw and unfiltered. Is that okay?” There was silence- deafening, torturous silence that tore Elaine apart. This whole thing was a mistake, and she should go home and cry about this over a glass of wine. Yes, some nice sweet red wine to get her drunk and drown out her sorrow. Drunk and cowardly. However good that idea was, after thinking for a moment, Elliot finally gave her a shrug.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Sorry going off on you-” he leaned forward and squinted at her visitor’s name tag. “-Elaine. Nice name.” She nodded in thanks, still feeling self-conscious from his eyes, and began the final preparations for the interview. When ready, Elaine pressed the start button on her recorder. 

Click.

“November 10th, 2006. So, Elliot, tell me about your childhood and how you grew up.” Elliot turned away as he stifled a laugh. 

“Coming in strong right out the gate, huh?” Elaine’s face began to turn red, her mouth opening to surely apologize, but Elliot cut her off, rolling his eyes. “It was fine. Actually, it was great. My parents are amazing. I wasn’t spoiled, but they made sure I was cared for very well. They always made sure I went to the best schools and got good grades. I really admire them.” Elaine couldn’t help how her eyebrows raised. She was expecting something crazy, a sob story, but this wasn’t that. But she could see how his eyes changed while he talked about his parents- there was something there.

“Well, it sounds like you had a really great upbringing. If I can speak frankly, most people with your upbringing don’t end up in a place like this.” Elliot leaned closer to her and narrowed his eyes, his finger pointing at her accusingly. His voice was pure scorn, burning Elaine as it hit her.

“Listen here, woman. Whatever assumptions you have about this place and the people here need to go. Me being here has absolutely nothing to do with my parents, so don’t even think about that. I’m here because something is wrong with me, and only me. Make sure you write that down.” He finally leaned back, but kept his eyes trained on Elaine. She nodded quickly and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I promise I won’t insinuate anything again. So, your parents are very good people. In your own words, what do you think set off the chain of events that brought you here?” Elliot stared off for a moment, eyes drifting across the room, presumably thinking. 

“Probably when I started college. That shit was awful.” Elaine sat there for a moment, waiting for him to continue. After a full minute of waiting, she realized that he wasn’t going to continue. She nodded and gestured for him to continue. 

“Yeah, that’s understandable, college is hard. I still remember the long nights and constant anxiety. So, what made it so hard? What was your major?” Elliot turned to look at her and narrowed his eyes. 

“Whatever, Ms. Journalism. I guarantee your college experience was ten times better than most people. I did finance and accounting, a double major. But I only did that shit because that’s what my dad did. My parents really wanted me to follow in his footsteps.” Elaine stilled for a moment, taking in a deep breath and processing the insult.

“I take it you didn’t want to do that, then? What would you have majored in if you had the chance?” 

“I don’t know. Probably film or something creative like that.” 

“Oh, you’re the creative type? I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Elaine thought it was a harmless comment, but Elliot rolled his eyes at her and groaned.

“Whatever. Yeah, I would have done film or something, but I felt pressured to do the finance stuff, and it was hell.” Elaine nodded, trying to think of a way to dig herself out of this conversational pit. She clicked her pen a couple of times and scribbled some words in her interview notes before forcing herself to continue, making a mental note to try and improve her interview skills later. 

“So, how did this lead into your story?”

“It made me want to kill myself.” Elaine felt like she had been punched in the gut. What the hell? She didn’t even have to say anything, as Elliot practically read her thoughts and laughed at her. “Doesn’t basically everyone want to kill themselves at some point during college? I couldn’t keep up with the amount of work I had on my plate. I tried the therapy and the medications, but none of them ever really worked, so I tried to kill myself.” 

“Wait, sorry, there’s a lot to unpack and I can’t write that fast.” Elaine was scribbling on her notepad as fast as she could, not wanting to miss a single detail. She was also still in disbelief at just how nonchalant this guy talked about suicide, like it was normal. “So, you felt familial, societal, and personal pressures to do well in school, and even though you tried traditional treatments to help your depression, they didn’t work. That led to you attempting suicide. Was there any one event that triggered the attempt, or was it a build-up?” 

“Both, kind of. I kept getting failing grades back on my assignments. It wore me down, but every day I kept giving myself the ‘just keep trying’ bullshit. I remember one night I got back an F on a paper for one of my classes. That paper was worth half my grade, and I knew nothing would fix my final grade after that. When that happened, I just gave up, I think. I went home that weekend and tried to end my life.” Elaine couldn’t help the pang of emotion that filled her chest, burning and aching. Was it empathy? Pity? Understanding? She nodded slowly, trying to think of any words that would help the discomfort and tension she felt in that moment.

“I’m sorry you went through that. Nobody should have to experience those things. I can’t imagine how your parents felt either.” Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. The worst thing to say, perhaps. Elliot’s once mildly annoyed face started to twist and sour into some sort of anger-disgust mixture. A grimace that made Elaine almost cower in her chair. A look in his eyes that would incite fear in any well-meaning reporter.

“Don’t ever say that shit to me again.”

“I’m sorry, I mean, I didn’t mean anything by-” Elliot cut her off by slamming his fists down on the metal table, as much as the handcuffs would allow, metallic clanging echoing through the room. Elaine jumped slightly and dropped her notepad, her pulse quickening by the second now. 

“Tell the cop I’m done for today.” Elaine’s brow furrowed at his demand. Elaine could see the tension in his body clearly.

“But we’re not done with the scheduled interview time yet. I wanted to get at least the basic story today.” Elliot’s eyes slowly met hers, and he spoke in a flat, yet demanding tone. 

“Tell the man I’m done, Elaine.” Her eyes went even wider, and her mouth suddenly became chokingly dry. What the hell was wrong with her? Arguing with the inmate? She nodded and got up with quivering hands, making her way over to the door, opening it, and almost whispering to the guard that she was done. Barely even comprehending what she was doing in that moment. She stood off to the side as the uniformed man came in and retrieved Elliot. She could feel Elliot’s eyes on her, burning scorching holes into her until he was fully out of sight.

When the two were finally gone, she was left in the deafening silence of the small interview room. She felt paralyzed, palms sweaty and chest tight. She felt something like guilt, but why? She knew she shouldn’t really feel bad for Elliot, the guy was a murderer. Was her apology really that insensitive, or was he just a dick? 

She couldn’t tell.

She slowly picked up her notepad and scattered papers from the floor. I’m not cut out for this shit. Racing thoughts coursed through her head in an attempt to justify what happened, or more so justify her actions. I’m sure what I said was fine. He’s just too volatile.

She sat back down and stopped her recorder.

[joelydfm]

The Mind and Other Useless Organs

(Hello, everyone. This is the first piece of media I'm putting out. It's a deeply psychological novel, so there are plenty of dark themes mentioned and described eventually. Let me know if you have any comments on the formatting, or just thoughts in general. This first chapter is short, but the others are longer.)

Chapter One

Elaine gripped the steering wheel just a bit tighter as she rolled to a stop at the red light, hands sweating. Just a few more miles before she reached her destination. The weather was particularly nice today, not a cloud in the sky- a stark difference in moods for the work she was about to do. Her papers sat in an almost-perfect stack in the passenger seat, taunting her, making her dread worse. Elaine couldn’t avoid her forever, she knew that, but she liked to think she could. Maybe it would all just go away one day. Maybe she would go away. 

Elaine licked her suddenly very dry lips as she pulled into the parking lot of the bleak building. It was worse than she remembered. There were vines crawling up the walls, choking out the windows and any light that would have entered them. There were cracks in the foundation of the building on all sides, making the building look even more unattractive. Obviously, the years had not been kind. Has it really been years since I visited, she thought. That made her grimace, knowing she was horrible. Elaine was nowhere near religious, but if she was, she would say this place was actual hell. She got out of the car and went around to the passenger side, grabbing her bag and putting her papers inside. Her eyes lingered on the handheld recorder and notebooks. Did she really want to do this? Maybe she should just go back to the office and report on cats getting stuck in trees or a kind citizen directing traffic or something. Anything else, really. With a sigh, she clutched her bag, locked her car, straightened out her grey pantsuit, and started making her way to the front entrance, the industrial-looking sign flaunting the possible demise of her career.

Black Creek Institution for the Criminally Insane.

A trembling hand met a cold metal handle. Opening the glass door, she was met with an even more bland interior- white and blue walls, buzzing fluorescent lights, and the smell of ammonia. No wonder Nicole hated this place, it was so damn sterile. Elaine would go insane just being here. She winced a bit at that thought, knowing it was a bit insensitive considering the situation. She shook her head and went to the front desk, getting out her ID.

“Elaine Bristow with the Massachusetts Times. Here for my interviews.”

Elaine was not met with words from the woman behind the desk, but dead eyes instead. The obviously tired and probably miserable secretary just looked at the ID, typed some things in the computer, and gestured toward an armed policeman standing next to a door. Elaine got the message and went over to the officer who was holding his hand out. Again, no words. What was with these people? She sighed and handed him her bag and they went through the door to a metal detector and a table. The man groaned, and her bag was tossed onto the table, which made her flinch a bit, knowing her expensive recorder was in there. Elaine successfully made it through the metal detector and then simply watched as they rummaged through her bag carelessly. Crinkled papers, probably broken recorder. Go figure.

Belongings in hand now, Elaine was led through what seemed like a labyrinth of hallways to a room that she knew probably hadn’t seen the touch of a person in a long time. She went inside and was instructed to wait, which only made her nerves worse. There was a thick layer of dust on every surface, irritating her sinuses. She sat down and started setting up for the interview, looking over her recorder to make sure the policeman hadn’t broken it. Perhaps the recorder wasn’t broken this time, but she would definitely break after today, she knew that. There was no way she could wait longer than a few minutes without making a run for it and never looking back. Go back to her apartment and keep writing those silly little reports like she always did. That was the safe way out. 

In an instant, cats in trees were no longer an option. The door creaked open, revealing the first interviewee. 

Elliot Connoway.

(I really hope you enjoyed. I love hearing thoughts, so feel free.)