Publication History “Altered Perception”, Muse spring 2010, Calhoun Community College Literary Magazine. Decatur, Alabama
My name is Catherine and I was in college for a degree in Psychology. I was, until everything collapsed around me. I see things, details that other people normally do not notice. Let me walk backward with you…
“Cat!” a voice calls out, deep and masculine but with a hint of surprise – like he did not expect me to be here.
I turn and find Marshall, one of my classmates and my closest friend, waving at me from the other side of the room. Lifting my hand, I tentatively return his wave as I wonder, and not for the first time within the past hour, what in the world I am doing here? Already, I know the answer to my question: Curiosity. At the end of my psyche class earlier in the day, I overheard a classmate tell her girlfriends about a “psychologist meet-and-greet” that was to be held here at Ashcroft Asylum, 6:30 P. M. As Marshall pushes his way through the crowd to where I stand, I glance around the room, taking note of the faces of the people around me. There were a couple of people here and there that I recognize from my class but, for the most part, everyone else was a stranger to me.
I return my gaze to Marshall and a small smile touches the corners of my lips as I say softly with a hint of laughter in my voice, “A psychologist get-together at an asylum, Marshall? This was a joke, right?”
Marshall chuckles and shakes his head. “This is no joke, Cat. We are all here and we are going to have our chance to speak to one of the residents here. Field work for our degrees, you could call it. ”
A mixture of shock and excitement jolts through my veins as what Marshall said forms a puzzle and fuses together in my mind. My mind reeling with the questions I want to ask, I wander through the gathered crowd and exchange greetings with those who offer them.
Thirty minutes later, I sit in front of a young adult male, no older than eighteen. Jason, he said his name was, though if it is true, I cannot tell. He has a small frame for his size, his cheekbones in sharp contrast with the rest of his facial features. He is severely underweight, though it does not seem to affect him. It is almost as though he does not notice how skinny he is. His loose white pants and clinical-style white shirt hang off of him, adding to his underweight appearance, and contrasting starkly with his short but curly black hair and vivid ice blue eyes. He speaks rationally as he answers my questions but inside he is hurting and wanting to escape. I can see his longing to escape as if it were a tangible cloak sheltering him from the reality of where he is residing. I lean forward in my chair and ask in a soft voice, “Jason, why did your family bring you here?”
Jason goes very still. It appears almost as if he is not breathing, which sends fear slithering up my spine. The slight tremor that had touched his hands moments ago was gone. The blue of his eyes are a slender ring around his dilated pupils. His hair glistens as if he just stepped out of a shower prior to coming to this room. He speaks slowly, his voice no more than a soft whisper that had me straining my ears to catch: “My family never existed, Miss Catherine. I dreamt them. Here. ” He brings a hand up and taps his forehead. Once. Twice. A third time.
My brow creases as I try to figure out what he just said. A few moments later, I see what he meant. Sudden images flood into my head, scattering my train of thought. His father is an older carbon copy of Jason, his mother, a feminine carbon copy of him, and his faceless younger sister. . . The sister that he never met. I mentally shake myself to get rid of the images as I do nothing but stare at the boy in front of me.
Jason, his eyes focused on absolutely nothing that I can physically see, has a smile on his face that would have given the Joker reason to pause. I tilt my head to the side as confusion flares to life and slides it’s chilling fingers along my veins. I find myself un-focusing my gaze. Now I can see what I had not been able to moments before.
Behind Jason stood the exact images of his father, mother, and little sister that had invaded my mind a few minutes earlier. They shimmer slightly as though they are struggling to maintain a hold on the reality that Jason has envisioned for them. “Jason,” I whisper to the non-responsive boy in front of me. “Your mind is your home, isn’t it? You do not see these walls… These people. ” He absently shakes his head as reality slips back into place around me.
My hands shake as I pull myself out of the chair I was sitting in and turn to leave the room. Nurses silently move past me, intent on their task of taking care of the young man named Jason. The young man who did not see the world through normal eyes but, like me, sees in shades of gray, white, and black. A young man who sees with his mind the things that no one could truly say were there… Again, like me.
A few days later, I type my impressions of Jason and send my written details to my Professor. By this time, I had already discussed my time with Jason with Marshall and a few of my other classmates. I let my mind slip back to Carol’s sympathetic response. “You sympathize with him because you can relate with him. That doesn’t bode well for you in the future. ” The screen on my computer flashes with a response from my professor and pulls my attention from my thoughts. I focus on the message with my heart hammering in my chest and fear once again curls its icy fingers down my spine:
“You would have done well in this profession. I am sorry. ”It was not until much later that I would realize that talking to my fellow classmates would prove a fatal blow for my degree and, inevitably, the remainder of my sanity. . .
My name is Catherine and I currently reside in a white, but softly cushioned, walled room at Ashcroft Asylum. I have been here for two years, or so the nurses tell me. Shifting my position on the hard but comfortable bed bolted to the northern wall, I glance through the small glass square offering the only glimpse of anything outside of my homely room and a smile pulls at the corners of my lips. In the distance, Jason returns the smile knowingly.
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