THE SHADOW WITHIN

"The parts of ourselves that we fear the most haunt us, not ghosts."

"I need help, doctor. "

"What do you think about Brian?"

"…"

"Brian?"

"Hurting her."

"Your wife?"

"Yes. I don't want to. But it's there. Just… there."

"Do you think you're dangerous, Brian?"

 "…"

"Brian?"

"What does it matter? The thoughts come anyway."

"It matters because you're here, asking for help. Do you know why these thoughts come, Brian?"

"No. They're just... there."

"They're just there?"

"Always. I don't invite the thoughts. I just... can't stop them."

"What exactly are these thoughts, Brian?"

"They're not 'normal,' doctor."

"And what isn't normal to you?"

"How do I explain it? They just happen. I'll walk through the city, feeling like the happiest person alive, smiling, and then... it just appears."

"What appears, Brian? You need to be specific."

 "…"

"What appears, Brian?"

"A thought."

"A thought? About what?"

"…Death, doctor."

"A suicidal thought, then?"

"No. Not mine."

"Whose, then? Is there someone specific?"

"That's the worst part. It doesn't matter who. The thought just... appears, and anyone who crosses my path could be a target."

"Do you remember when these thoughts started?"

"I was five. The thought would just appear and take over."

"Alright, Brian. Take it slow. I can see you're shaking. Breathe deeply. There you go. Now exhale. Feeling a little better?"

"Since I was just five, I knew this thought was... rooted in me. That I'd never get rid of it."

"Thinking about someone's death doesn't necessarily mean there's a problem. Everyone thinks about death; it's normal. Death and life - they're connected. How exactly does this thought disturb your daily life?"

"I was sitting in the waiting room at the dentist's office. Just me and a woman. We didn't know each other. We never even looked at each other. But in my head, I started thinking about peeling the skin from her face, inch by inch, while her screams shattered the silence."

"…"

"That sounds disturbing, doesn't it?"

"Have you ever... acted on these thoughts, Brian? Hurt anyone?"

"Only myself. Three times. So far."

"So... the thought tells you to kill yourself?"

"No, doctor. It tells me to kill... and hurt everyone around me."

"But you don't act on it. That's good, Brian. So why do you hurt yourself instead?"

"It's the only way to stop me."

"You're putting too much weight on these thoughts. They're part of life, Brian. Hundreds pass through our minds every second. You can't even remember all of them. It doesn't mean something's wrong with you."

"Are you saying, doctor, that it shouldn't bother me? Even now, while talking to you, I'm imagining stabbing a pen into your left eye and twisting it like a screwdriver, watching you scream and bleed everywhere."

"It's not pleasant to hear that. But when we're upset, angry, or sad, we think all sorts of things. Some good, some bad. That's normal. The difference lies in what you do once these thoughts appear."

"I think I'm damaged goods, doctor. I always have been. My parents sensed it right away. Something abnormal. That's why they abandoned me. Left me. They were afraid of me."

"Maybe you're exaggerating a bit, Brian. There could be dozens of reasons your parents left, none of them your fault."

"Then why do I feel like this?"

"When someone finds out they were abandoned, they start blaming themselves. They need a reason, a justification for why it happened. And without answers, people turn on themselves, believing they aren't good enough. That something's wrong with them."

"So... you think that's my problem, doctor? That I blame myself for my parents leaving?"

"Isn't that it?"

"Even as a kid, my guardians were scared of me. Violet, my caretaker, told me she slept with one eye open at night so I wouldn't sneak in and slit their throats. Imagine hearing that at five years old, doctor, tell me it wouldn't scar you."

"You're right, Brian. Saying something so horrible to a five-year-old is damaging. But it's not proof that you're broken or that your parents left because of you."

"As a kid, I was always afraid of myself. Whenever someone yelled or hit me, I'd endure it. I wouldn't fight back; I let them finish until they left me alone. They thought I was a freak because I didn't fight back. They said I enjoyed the pain. They called me a sadist. But they didn't know the real truth, doctor."

"And what's that truth, Brian?"

"That they're alive because I didn't fight back."

"You think that's the only reason you didn't retaliate? That it couldn't be something else?"

"What else, doctor? There's nothing else. The first time a classmate hit me at school, it hurt so much that I cried. They all laughed. But I wasn't laughing, doctor. I was trembling. Not from fear of the classmate. Not of him. I was afraid of... the thoughts that came to mind."

"What thoughts, Brian? Can you describe them?"

"I saw myself biting his forearm with all my strength. My teeth sank into his skin, into his flesh. I tasted his blood trickling from my mouth as he screamed. I saw myself tearing at his veins, pulling them like chewing gum. But it didn't end there."

"Brian…"

"And I stomped on his head. Over and over. It wasn't enough."

"Brian, none of that was real. You know that, don't you?"

"But the feeling was real, wasn't it? That means the thoughts are real, too. Hate, love, anger — none are tangible, but we feel them. They're real. Why should these thoughts be different? They're part of me, aren't they?"

"Listen, Brian. You're not that scared, child anymore. You're married. You have a family. Children. You should focus on what you have now, not what you lost."

"That's what I'm doing, doctor. That's why I came to you. To lock me up. Keep me away from people."

"You think you should be locked up, Brian?"

"Absolutely. The sooner, the better. Before it's too late."

"Are you afraid of hurting your family?"

"Sometimes, I catch myself watching my wife, and I see myself snapping her neck. Her body twitched on the kitchen floor, gasping for air."

"Does your wife upset you so much that you want her dead?"

"I love my wife. I'd never hurt her, but... the thoughts just come. I can't control them. I don't want to think that way, but... they come whenever they want."

"Brian, you've had these thoughts for 40 years. Don't you think you would have hurt someone by now if they really controlled you?"

"When I was a kid, I tortured animals. Not because I hated or feared them. Just because I could. I wanted to know what it felt like to hurt something helpless. We had a dog. I loved him. Played with him, fed him. But whenever he ran off and didn't return when I called, I'd give in to the thoughts."

"…"

"I'd lose control. Strike; I'd hurt my own hand. I knew what I was doing. I hated myself for it. But I didn't stop. I stopped when my hand hurt so badly, I couldn't continue."

"Slow down, Brian. Everyone's damaged in some way. Some more, some less. The important thing is to find the cause."

"I thought the thoughts would go away when I grew up. When I started a family, I wasn't alone. But nothing changed. Everyone sees me as a great guy, friendly, and always cheerful, but all I want is to unleash my rage. It doesn't matter who or why."

"Maybe you could talk to your wife about this? Your love for her has stopped you from hurting her. Just as it has all these years."

"Sometimes I feel sad that I don't spend time with my kids like other fathers do. I tell myself I love them and know that feeling is real, but I feel like I'm not a good father. I yell at them. I'm always agitated, even though I try to be calm and gentle. It breaks my heart, doctor. I'd give my life for them, but I'm afraid... afraid of what these thoughts might drive me to do."

"Thoughts... about your children?"

"Yes, doctor. Sometimes, I think it would be better if I were alone. Locked up somewhere without anyone I could hurt. I think about... killing them in their sleep."

 "…"

"I catch myself watching them through the cracked door while they sleep. I hate myself for it, but I keep watching them with the eyes of a bloodthirsty beast. And then I see them lying there, so innocent, so peaceful... and I start to cry. What kind of person even thinks about doing that to his children?"

"A person who's never had anyone to help him. Brian, you're not a bad person. You're a good husband to your wife and a good father to your children. That's the only real truth in your life."

"I thought I'd found a way to keep these thoughts under control all these years."

"What way was that, Brian?"

"I started writing stories. Every story I write is filled with the images my mind projects every day, every moment. No matter what I'm doing, who I'm with... the thoughts are always there."

"That's good. It's a smart way to get those thoughts out of your head."

"But writing has become a problem. Each story gets scarier and more horrifying. The things I write about are so vile and disgusting that no one even wants to read them. They feel... too real."

"Just remember, Brian, these are only stories you're writing. Just as thoughts are the only things you think about, none is real."

"But here we are, talking about it, aren't we? I'm tired of talking, doctor. I know… the real me isn't a good person. Deep down, there's a sadist, a sociopath who wants to cause pain—to torture people and watch the world burn. And I know it. I hate it. And... I can't live without it."

"If that's truly what you want, then alright. We can arrange for you to be admitted to a psychiatric facility for a set period. We'll observe what happens. How does that sound?"

"I'm not comfortable with being locked up. That other part of me... it's already thinking about how to crack open your skull if it had control."

"Are you saying you have these thoughts while we're talking?"

"You have no idea, doctor, what's been going through my mind while we talk. Whatever we're discussing, every possible version of this meeting plays in my head. I'm imagining all the ways I could kill you, ways to make you suffer… the worst possible pain. How do I look to you, doctor?"

"You... you look perfectly normal, Brian."

"That's the thing, doctor. I'm not."