Mason Holt's

Transcripts of recorded patient-doctor interviews conducted by Doctor Conrad Kolby, psychiatric and therapeutic doctor from Mason Holt's High Security Psychiatric Hospital.
-=Doctor
~=Patient


Patient Details
Full name: Willem Bernhard Floris Van Dael
Age: 19
Date of birth: 24/11/1993
Hair colour: brown
Eye colour: Brown
Height: 5'4
Additional: Brittle bone disorder, young father.
Interview No.: 1
-Willem? Can you tell me where you are? You seem unfocussed. Do you know where you are?

Willem? Look at me, Willem. My name is Doctor Kolby. I'm here to help.
~I'm lost.
-Lost? Lost where?
~I can't see anything, or hear anything...and everything smells of blood...
-Are you here often?
~I want to go home.
-I'm afraid you can't go home.
~It's too hot! Is there a window? A light? How can somewhere so dark be so warm?
-Do you know why you're here?
~...I killed Katrien.
-They think you're sick.
~They think a lot of things.
-What sort of things?
~They get inside my head. They think horrible things and spit them at me, but to everyone else, no-one is there.
-...Who are they?
~Dead people.
-Do you recognise them at all?
~I wish they were bluebirds...bluebirds would be nicer, right?
-I can't say for sure. Do you recognise these people?
~Yes
-Who are they?
~I can't say.
-Why can't you say, Willem?
~They'll kill me.
-You're safe here.
~I want to go!
-Willem, listen to me, you are perfectly safe here, okay?
~Please can I just go?
-If you must. First I just need to ask a few questions.
~Okay.
-You hear voices, right?
~Dead People.
-Including your daughter?
~The one I killed.
-So that's a yes?

What does she say to you, Willem?
~She's making me pay.
-For her death?
~She hates me for it...and she's lonely, so lonely. She's so lonely and scared and she wants her mum and dad!

Full name: John Lewis St Crow
Age: 22
Date of birth: 14/4/1991
Hair colour: Brown
Eye colour: Hazel
Height: 5'5
Additional: Right eye missing. Autistic. Orphan.
Interview no.: 1

-Morning, John.
~Good morning Doctor.
-What brings you to the Mason Holt?
~I'm listed as my father's next of kin, his only living relative. His fortune is mine.
-And why spend it here?
~Because I'm psychotic?
-You're not psychotic, John.
~I carry a knife, a knife that has actually killed in the past.
-Would you like to talk about that?
~Which one?
-Whichever comes to mind.
~...I was eight...no, younger...very cold...I lived outside...and there were people...people who saw what they thought was a helpless child and they tried to sexually abuse me...so I stabbed them with a kitchen knife. Doctor?
-Yes?
~I want you to be entirely truthful with me and tell me how that isn't psychotic.
-You acted in self defence, you only wanted to protect yourself.
~I'm not the one who needs protecting. They are.
-Do you ever see yourself as a protector or an innocent? Maybe a victim?

John?
~Once or twice.
-Care to elaborate?
~I used to have a daughter. She died. Arson.
-I see. And having her, you felt like her protector?
~I lost her. I failed. I failed my second daughter as well, she's dead too.
-I'm so sorry to hear that.
~I just want a happy, healthy daughter cruellest fates won't take from me.
-I understand that.
~Do you have children, Doctor?
-No, not yet.
~You're a lot older than me.
-Does that mean something?
~It makes you harder to trust.
-How so?
~I've been attacked by many older men.
-Attacked?
~Attacked, robbed, raped, shot at by...
-Would you like to talk about that?
~No.
-Why not?
~It's a sensitive subject and it upsets me.
-Of course. But the point of these sessions you yourself are paying for is that you can work through these tough experiences, and you'll have to talk about them at some point.
~I know, Doctor.
-Would you like to go back to your room, John?
~Can I go watch television? I would much rather watch television.
-That should be fine, John. Can I just say something?
~Yes?
-You seem very jittery.
~The guards took my knife.
-It's a dangerous weapon and the people here are dangerous people.
~I need my knife.
-No you don't.
~I need it.
-Why?
~It makes me feel safe.
-I'm sorry, it's too dangerous, John.
~I need it! Give it back! Give me my fucking knife! I need my knife! I need it!
-Calm down.
~I need my fucking knife! I'm not safe without it!
-I can assure you that you are perfectly safe, John.
~No you can't! You're lying! That knife has saved my life countless times and I need it!
-Saved your life?
~The knife! Where is my knife?
-Can I have security in here please?
~I need my knife, I need it! Now!
-Sedate him.

Patient Name: Henry Donald Heathcliffe
Age: 28
Date of Birth: 25/03/1986
Hair Colour: Brown
Eye Colour: Brown
Height: 5'9
Additional: -
Interview No: 1

~I remember being in the kitchen. My wife and I was talking normally, chatting along and all. It was a nice memory. We were joking, and laughing, and happy, and I put down my mug, and she suddenly...lost it...Her palms snapped against my chest and pushed and I lost my footing and fell...I cracked my jaw off the corner of the counter and she ran off...and to this day I have no idea why she was angry at me.
-Did your wife hit you often?
~Quite often...I could have defended myself or hit back, but the one time I did everyone berated me for being a wife beater...
-Double standards, Henry. They're everywhere in this world, unfortunately. Some things are strangely acceptable for girls to do to boys but not the other way around. Socially speaking, that is. I don't think she was right to do that.
~I should have just...accepted it.
-No, Henry, nobody should have to live with abuse.
~I've had this shit since I was a kid though.
-No wonder you couldn't take it any more.
~It would happen a lot though. Everything would be normal, I would annoy her and she would lose it and hit me and I would have no clue what I'd done wrong. She could be so violent, but she was the first person to show me love. The first person to make me happy. I had to put up with it, or I'd lose that happiness.
-It sounds to me like she isn't the only problem.
~No...Asia was abusive, yeah, but she was latest in a long line.
-Was there abuse in your childhood?
~...A little...
-A little?
~My dad was drunk a lot...
-And where was your mother?
~She was an artist. She travelled.
-How often?
~I barely saw her.
-I see. Did you resent not having a mother figure?
~I...I guess so...
-Hmm...what kind of things did your father do?
~Just shout and hit.
-And is that all your wife did?
~Asia could sometimes be a bit nasty...
-And did you resent her?
~No, I loved her.
-Why?
~Why does anyone love anyone?
-What did you like about Asia?
~She was always a lovely girl. Always able to offer a kind word and warm smile, and so beautiful. I don't understand why she would turn around and hit me.
-Some people don't have everything aligned right in their heads.
~It was...painful...in more ways than one.
-I understand, Henry, I really do.
~You've never been through this though.
-But I've seen a lot of pain in my time, and I understand how awful it must be for you.
~You really don't, because I love her and I never want to be apart from her.
-But you are apart from her.
~It's not my fault, she was hurting me first, I did it in self-defence...
-I know, I know. I'm here to help you work through it all. Don't worry, Henry, I'm not here to judge, just to help you.

Brothers Of The Crab

My name is Balthasar.
I'm Bendix.
We're twins. Well, triplets, but Brieta doesn't...she died.
Leukaemia...
Which is what I have now.
We decided to share this journal for future ...stuff...
Yeah, stuff.
Stuff is a good enough word.

Most people wouldn't guess us as twins.
No, I'm skinny and brunette and punky, and he's a nerdy, fatty blond. We both have the same hazel eyes though.
Our mum's hazel eyes. Like gold, they are.
Our best feature.
We have a little sister too. Alithia. Darling.
Bit of a slut.
Bally!
It's true! She always wears those slut clothes and sleeps with boys and then claims she's eternally faithful to that David bloke. Don't know who she thinks she's fooling.
Be nice, please. This isn't even about her. It's for future generations, from us, about us, so any future kids of ours will know who we were.
I'm not having kids.
You might do.
Bendix, I am dying after this year, I'm not going to raise any babies in that time.
...I have a girlfriend at the moment, named Rachie.
My girl's called Mysti. She's a babe.
Mine's an absolute darling.
She likes when I make her flower crowns.
Bally isn't that much of a punk. He loves making flower jewellery and he's camp as hell.
Shut up.
You are though.
I'm also awesome.
Most people at school think he's gay.
They think you're gay too, don't act so smug.

Benny's asleep now. I can't sleep because it hurts too much (apologies for any wet splotches on the paper, it really does hurt and I can't turn the light on without waking the others up, so I can't get my painkillers.) so I will talk.

My full name is Balthasar Dalton Grayson Johnnie Milan Gammaleil if you ever want to look me up. Ben's is Bendix Graham Geoffrey Finn Tariq Gammaleil. Those names aren't going to change, so you enjoy their weird, slightly toxic splendour. So let me tell you a bit about myself.
I am the son of Taryn Gammaleil and some unknown guy who we think has brown hair, because mum is ginger, like Alithia. We were born when mummy was 16, but conceived a year earlier. Yeah, it lasted over new years, I mean. She gave birth to three babies. Big, fat Benny was first, then slender, fabulous me, and finally our sister, Brieta. I don't remember much about Brieta, because she died when we were two, and Alithia was one. Mum was really cut up about it. Like, really cut up. Like, proper howling tears.

She treated us all extra well for a while, just showering us with love. It was back to two boys and one girl. And I started loving the love and wanting all the pretty girly things that Ally got, and in the end mum got so sick of me fighting her for Barbie dolls and jewellery makers that she bought me some of my own, and I was elated. Hey, it's not like it's damaging. I turned out alright, and girl toys didn't turn me gay. I'm in a very happy relationship...with the girl who's always scared because she knows I'm dying...

Thing is, watching Brieta gradually worsen despite treatment, watching the treatment make her worse, it effected mum so badly...I remembered her face and I remembered that photo in her room of a little bald girl, sleeping, but looking already dead. So when the doctor came back to us, solemn faced and grey, and said 'Balthasar, it's bad news, I'm afraid you have Leukaemia' I stood up and said 'I refuse treatment'.

I really wish he'd never said that. At least with treatment he'd have had a chance. Yes, he feels his hair is a huge part of who he is, jes   yes, he hates showing pain and weaknes, and he hates being made week but he could have...just...please...given himself a chance to live...

I get awfully tearful thinking about this, because I've known Bally all our lives, and hhe's been one of my best friends

God, sorry for all the mistaes mistakes...I'm panicking, writing this really fast, I'm sorry, I'm just really upset. Ech. I go to a boarding school, quite expensive. Unisex. Rachie and Mysti go there too.

Dear diary, I have a bucket list. I will cross out each one as I manage it.
Make sure Ben knows I love him despite all the mean things I do.
Hold an infant
Get a dog
Have sex (yes I'm a virgin, deal with it)
Take Mysti out on a night she'll never forget.
Get on TV
Go sky diving
Go deep sea diving
Win a nobel prize
Travel
Learn a new language.
RIDE A HORSE!!!
Climb a mountain
Hot air balloon
Perform!
Dance barefoot in the rain
See the northern lights
See an eclipse
Stargaze
Grow a tree from scratch
Biggest party ever
Get drunk off wine
Play violin
Learn salsa dance
Learn Muay Thai
Road trip
Swim with dolphins
Learn to knit
Cook
Make a shit tonne of origami cranes for people
Meditate
See Japanese cheerrry blossoms.
Hit a bullseye
See a volcano
Fly in a helicopter
Meet a celebrity
Learn sign language

Those are my plans and it's going to be perfect. I'm going to do each and every one of those things (although obviously I have to do some when I'm not at boarding school )

He's never going to manage it all. Without treatment he won't even last to the end of the year.

Oh my god, nobody ever told me what sex was like. It was so awkward and weird and it didn't even last long, and I think she just found it painful, but at the same time it was like...the best thing ever...

Can you not fill this book with awkward porn?
You're just sour because you're too fat for people to want to fuck.
You may be dying but that doesn't mean I won't jump you and beat the ever loving crap out of you.

I'm thinking, anything Bally doesn't manage on that list, I'll do in his honour.

Benny's so sweet. I hope he's able to be there for the others when this is over.
Our little Ally just had a baby, by the way...she's 16...but yeah, so I got to hold that infant too!

Bally's started getting symptoms that show the cancer's spread to his spine and brain. Headaches, seizures, confusion...it's getting so scary.

My girlfriend's boobs have gotten bigger.

...He's a charming one, but like I said, confused.

No, they really have! Like, what if she's pregnant? I mean, we've had it off a few times, totally uninterrupted, she's not had a period in ages and her boobs are bigger.

We've been silent in this thing for quite a while-not that it will show. every time it's more than a day past, we just start a new paragraph.
It's been a month. I woke up this morning and the air felt really thick and cold. I sat up and grabbed my glasses and the boys I shared a dormitory with were crowded around my brother's bed. I started crying before I even understood. He got up, went over and pushed through, and this boy, Raphael, he has the bed next to Bally's, tried to tell me before I put my hand to his face. It was cool, but not cold. He was a bit stiff, but not very. Felix went to get a teacher. He died in his sleep, peacefully I assume.

It was a stroke that took him in the end. A stroke of all things.

I saw Mysti in the hospital wing today. I'd broken a wrist playing rrugby, trying to get my mind clear, and there she was, bandaged up and looking sick and in tears. I went to talk to her and she dropped the bombshell. If you, my nephew or niece, are holding this book, Balthasar was right. A few cheap rounds with his girlfriend and she was expecting.

I don't want to write in this any more. It hurts too much because I see Bally's writing. I'm helping Mysti with her problems. I can't do much for Raphael and Felix, who slept beside Bally every night and who were first to find him gone. He'd have liked this. He'd have loved his child if he ever met it, I'm sure. I don't know if it will be a boy or girl yet. It might even be a twin. I would love it if it were mine.

She had a son. She named him Balthasar, after his biological father.

Monday, I found a copy of Bally's will. I'll stick it in.

The last will and testament of Balthasar Dalton Grayson Johnnie Milan Gammaleil.
This is the fiinal wishes of the above mentioned on the occasion of his death.

To my mother, Taryn Gammaleil, I leave my love, and ever photo of me and my siblings I own.
To my brother, Bendix, I leave my money (£7:63 in cash) and the puppy he bought me for my last birthday.
For my baby sister, Alithia, and all her five kids, I leave £7.63 from my bank account, and the following toys: White and brown chubby dog, blonde doll, lamb, teddy with pink ribbon, everything in that box in the attic...that junk.
To my love, Mysti, I leave the remaining £18.63 in my bank account and a collection of baby books I keep in my room, and all my jewellery, rings, bracelets, piercings and all.
To Felix and Ellis, my best friends, I leave all the alcohol under my bed, and my pack of morphine, and all my zombie apocalypse books.
All my remaining toys go to any future infant relatives I may have. I'm sure they'll love the bunnies and the birdies and the dinosaurs and dollies and whatnot. That's any future kids of Ali's or Ben's.

Sighnd: Balthasar D. Gammaleil.

Life is an interesting venture. You're born just to struggle through a 'life' made meaningless by society and government, and then you die. I don't really understand it. There isn't a point to anyone's life. We're all just lambs to the slaughter. So here I am, stood at a grave, just...crying. My brother was a real romantic when he was alive. He gave his girlfriend gold-plated roses, so they wouldn't wilt away. He would do just about anything to make her feel loved. I don't have that talent. I'm awkward around girls, and unattractive, and overweight, and when I'm with my girlfriend I never know how to act because in all my years, she's my first and I'm worried I'll fuck it up. In the end that worry's been my downfall. I'm not confident and Rachie broke up with me...I finish school this year and now all I have to struggle on for are my nephews and nieces and I hate it.

Update. Rachie thought I was cheating on her because I was helping Mysti with my nephew. That is just fucking disgusting. She's effectively my sister for god's sake! I still really like Rachie though, but this is just...she seems to think any time I speak to another girl, I'm secretly fucking her. I'm not sure if it's worth staying in this relationship or not.

Update. I decided not.

Every weekend I'm at my brother's grave, telling this junk to thin air as though Bally himself were here, listening to every word I said with that same mocking smirk he always wore. I wish I could hear him making comments. I wish he was here.

I miss him. I'm no good at dealing with death. I can hide my emotion until I'm alone and in private though. I guess that's my only real talent.

You're never truly alone. I'm here for you, always.
Bally sr.
PS, miss you too, Benny.