Supermarket - Bobby Hall Page 0,55

robbery of Muldoon’s Grocery. Seeing how small the town is, it was all over the news—it made national news, in fact. When I saw you on TV, and heard about the trial, I knew your statements were from someone who wasn’t mentally stable. I signed on to the case pro bono after contacting the attorney representing you. After several meetings, we agreed that you should plead insanity and be admitted to our facility for treatment. We are the most well-regarded institution of our kind in the Northwest. The judge agreed, and you’ve been here ever since.”

I processed the information as calmly as I could. “So, what’s real?” I finally asked. “What happened, what didn’t, what’s happening to me now?”

“You never went to jail. You’ve been in inpatient treatment here. After a full psychiatric evaluation, you were diagnosed with several mental disorders. Schizophrenia, multiple personality disorder, bipolar disorder. Entwined in those are anxiety and depression. You’ve been making terrific progress, through cognitive behavioral therapy and medication. But you still have extended episodes of dissociation, where you get stuck in imagined worlds. These are loops, essentially. Your memory doesn’t function properly. Flynn, tell me what you know.”

“Well, I was working at a supermarket to find inspiration for a novel I was writing. I found a guy who worked there, Frank, who became the basis for my main character.”

“Only he didn’t work there, did he?” she said.

“No, he didn’t.”

“What else can you recall?”

“Well, this man, he wasn’t flesh and blood. He was an illusion I created in order to finish my novel. If I didn’t finish my novel, dark things would have happened. My deluded mind made Frank real to me. But Frank became a part of me. He was me. He was another identity in my mind, an alter ego. I guess originally I created him because of Lola, my ex-girlfriend. Or ex ex, I guess. Lola broke up with me because I never finished anything. When she broke up with me, something snapped. I became so desperate to finish a book that it literally drove me insane. I created a main character I believed in so much that he began to take control over me. And before I knew it, my mind had split into two. I was no longer just me.” I took a deep breath.

“I had become the character I created. To prove her wrong.”

“To prove who wrong, Flynn?” she asked.

“Lola,” I said. “Wait a minute . . . why do you look like her? I don’t understand.”

“Flynn, everything you remember happening . . . happened. Lola did break up with you, which triggered your meltdown, and fueled the fire to finish your novel, which you did after creating Frank. You see, Flynn, the reason you look at me and see her is the same reason you saw so many of the people in this hospital at the supermarket where you used to work.” She paused, her face calm. “Because you’ve been living in a loop, Flynn.”

Trying to process everything she was saying felt like letting a stranger tell you who you are. Letting them tell you that your identity is a lie, and then accepting it.

“It’s a defense mechanism to avoid trauma. You come in and out of reality, in and out of your own delusions. You see, the loop starts with you and me sitting in that white room. You recite the same series of events in your head. You go over the breakup exactly as it happened, all the way down to the waiter pouring your coffee. Then you go into your getting a job at Muldoon’s, meeting Frank, writing your novel. And when your mother comes to visit you—”

“My mother has been here?” I asked eagerly.

“Of course, Flynn. She loves you, and she plays her part.”

“What do you mean, ‘she plays her part’?”

“You see, that’s just it. You spend months here reliving everything from the breakup to the meltdown after the robbery, over and over. You give everyone here at the institution roles to play, Flynn, so you can return to the supermarket in a deluded state. You slip out of reality. You’re here but not here.”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, is it?”

“No, it isn’t. But this is the first time we’ve had such a breakthrough. As head doctor in the facility, I monitor all patients on the premises. I only work closely with some—and since you were admitted, I felt an obligation to help you.” She gave me a small,