FEAR

Second chunk

On the day in question I got in my car and set off towards Lancaster, my home town. The last services before Lancaster are at Forton, assuming you’re travelling north. I pulled in to use the toilet and then went to Burger King as I hadn’t felt like eating earlier in the day. Somewhere between sitting down to eat my burger and the third or fourth bite I had my breakdown. I don’t remember much about it, I’m not sure how I would really. I just remember sitting there, for a long time.

            I was thinking about moving, but to do so would set of a chain of events so momentous that I couldn’t stand up. So I stayed where I was, just thinking. The staff were clearly keeping an eye on me and apparently they tried to engage me more than once. In the end I sat there for about six hours until a manager rang the police. When I didn’t respond to the police they stuck me in a van and took me to Lancaster police station. From there I was assessed and sectioned. That’s when my parents were called. I saw them the next day and I did manage to speak to them. Mum was crying, dad seemed cross and confused. I told them I was fine, that it was a misunderstanding. I wasn’t fine, obviously and so here we are, writing a journal about it.

So, I don’t know where Pete might be, don’t know where he works or lives. As I said earlier this leaves me at something of a loose end. After all mine isn’t a particularly complex plan. I’ve achieved the first, and arguably hardest, part already. I’ve returned home. Aside from me Pete is the only one of the four of us still alive so once I’ve filled him in on what I intend to do there’s nothing else left but to go to the police station.

Since I’ve got some time I’ll share a few details about my parents. After all I’m staying in their house. My therapist said it might help to write about my family too. For me family is just my mum and dad. There’s an uncle somewhere in Yorkshire but I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.

They’ve been married for nearly forty years and apparently I was something of a surprise. My dad always claims he wasn’t bothered either way about having kids, which is nice. But I know that they’d tried and given it up as a bad job. Then along I came and turned their world upside down. Fast forward twenty-eight years and I’m about to do it to them again in the worst way. Given that I’ve already admitted to killing someone it might come as less of a surprise when I tell you that I wish I had never been born.

Since the breakdown my parents have been treating me like the Prodigal Son which is fair enough because if I remember Sunday school accurately he was actually a bit of a shit to his family too. That said his sins seemed to consist of spending his dad’s money on beer and prostitutes as opposed to the murder of innocent people.

Thankfully, I’m not going to get chance to dwell on it because I can hear my parents coming through the front door. I’ll try and remember to write more about them later. I want them to come across in a really positive way. I’d hate to think anyone blamed them for how I ended up.

Needless to say, they’ve bought an absolute trolley load of stuff. Since they’ve no idea what I eat anymore mum asked me what I fancied and at first I was stumped because I usually make do with a sandwich or perhaps a pizza or some Chinese; whatever’s easiest at the time.

            Anyhow she asked me and I thought about it and suggested that a curry of some sort might be nice, or some decent roast beef, even just a frozen pizza or lasagne. Also, ice cream, that’s always easy to eat. In the end they bought all of the above, as well as fresh carrots, frozen Yorkshire puddings, potatoes, naan breads and crisps. My Dad nods at me conspiratorially while they’re unpacking and reveals two four-packs of beer in one of the carrier bags. Again, since they’d no idea what I drink as a rule – the rule being I’ll drink anything that will bring about sleep and dull my memory – they got Boddingtons Bitter and Grolsch lager to cover their bases.