The Real Me

Dear Dr Reyoles,

They’re making me write this. I’m supposed to explain things. Like that will make anything better.

It wasn’t my fault that I got here. I just wanted to make people happy, and I took on a role to make that happen. Then things changed. People were constantly surrounding me, telling me who I was, where I’d end up, how my life would be in the meantime. I never believed them, not at first. It was a part I was playing, just an act that I put on to try and please those around me. It seemed to work, for a while. Everyone seemed happy, telling me what a good job I was doing. Slowly, those smiles started to fade. I tried even harder, getting more and more into the role that used to make everyone so happy.

I dug deeper, looking at other people to see how they managed to play this part so successfully. I even looked at people who had done it for real, copying the aspects of their lives that had made them who they were. Every step I took just seemed to make those around me even more concerned. I never saw them smile any more, even when I used all my tricks and all my research, trying my hardest to fulfil the role that they had given me. There was one step I could never take, though. I knew it would make that role complete, and that no-one would ever question who I was again, but somehow, I could never do it.

Until that day.

You’re expecting me to say that it was a day that started like any other. Not really. Not like the life I’d lived before this. No beautiful, clean house around me. No squawking alarm clock, and no delicious breakfast from the fridge or cupboard. I’d taken on this role so completely that my old life was completely impossible. I’d taken to sleeping in my car, eating cereal out of the box before heading to set. I was getting paid enough, obviously, but my focus was elsewhere, and before I knew it I had been kicked out of my apartment for not paying the rent.

I started spending all my time in the back seat of my car, huddled under a sleeping bag watching the people go past. I would drive to work from wherever I'd slept the night before, the watch my coworkers enter, wondering which one would be with me if I ever truly immersed myself completely in the role.

But back to the day in question. It wasn’t like an ordinary day. I had slept in my car, but I didn’t wake with the sun like normal. Somebody was knocking on my window. In the dream I was having, I thought it was a mouse tapdancing. It took a while for my brain to wake up enough to realise that it was real. As I struggled to sit up and turn, I looked up and realised that it was Leotha from work, and it was still dark outside. Getting light, but mostly still dark.

I admit, I’m never great first thing in the morning. Not even when I was still living in my house, waking up when I was ready. Here I was, being woken up in the middle of the night by someone who really should not have been there. I didn’t have any time to get myself ready before dealing with someone. Not that that was the reason for what was going to happen. I gave myself some time by pretending to struggle with the sleeping bag and sitting up properly. Leotha only knew the role I’d been playing, not the real me, so I needed to figure out how that person would deal with this situation.

Eventually, I shoved the sleeping bag down around my waist and rolled the window down a little. “What are you doing here?” I said.

I admit, I was probably a little grumpy here. OK, a lot grumpy. You try sleeping in your car and then get woken up by someone rapping on your window, see how you act. Anyway, it didn’t seem to bother Little Miss Sunshine. Seriously, that’s what people called her at work, because the character she played was always so happy, and she never seemed to turn that cheerfulness of, even when she stopped working. She’d hang around, chatting to everyone, and making sure everyone was feeling OK. She even tried with me, but I just glared at her and eventually she started avoiding me and giving me concerned glances like everyone else.

But back to that morning. As the world came into focus, I realised that Leotha was wearing some kind of running outfit. That explained what she was doing out at such an ungodly hour. She was smiling (as usual) and kept moving on the spot. Probably to keep her heart rate up or something. Fat lot of good it was going to do her. She just tipped her head and said “Come on. I’m practically done anyway. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

That just irritated me more. Breakfast? Together? This woman expected me to be social, after who she saw me as, and after waking me up at the crack of dawn? I shouldn’t have gone. The person I was before, who I truly was, would have been fine. But I’d gone too deep now. The opportunity had presented itself, and I knew that I would never have a better opportunity to fully embrace my role. So instead of closing the window and going back to sleep, I got out of the car and did my best to smile at her. “Sure. I know just the place.”

She should have seen it coming. She really should. After all, I was Jack the Ripper, star of Serial Killers Across the Ages. I left her body in the street, right near one of the places we’d used for filming. I wish I’d had time to plan it better. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been caught. Anyway, there it is. I doubt this will make any difference, to me, you, or Leotha’s family, but at least the cops should be happy. I did what they wanted.

Your favourite patient,

Jack