The Psychological Mystery of Thomas King

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Deep Dark Hole of Despair and Trauma

Thomas

After 7 months of studying, I finally graduated high school. I got into Ohio State University as a Psychology major. The last time I saw Hailey and Liam was at our high school graduation. I officially cut ties with Liam after that and moved out of the house, into an apartment close to the college. I worked at different department stores, and later as psychologist intern, to make money.

Years drifted by and I never realized that I stopped talking to my sister and Hailey. They called. Everyday, they called. But I always ignored their calls, turning my phone face down.

The last time I saw Ava was three years ago. I found out that she was selling the house on Cherry Creek Lane, that same cursed house that pretty much ruined my life. I decided to go there and take the stuff that I had left. In truth, I wanted to see my sister and have a chance to make up for lost time.

When I got there, I realized that moment was the same memory I saw, when I stepped through the mirror all those years ago. I tried to get that thought out of my head, when I saw my sister. I first, I thought she would be glad to see me, but my wishes were crushed when she gave me that hurt look.

Our conversation soon turned into an argument, when she demanded to know why I hadn't contacted her in so long. During that argument, I kept looking around me, thinking I would see that younger version of myself. I almost thought I saw a faint ghost of him, but I suppose I was just seeing things.

And my inattentiveness only seemed to make Ava angrier. Having enough of our failed reunion, I decided to leave, taking the few cardboard boxes that wasn't sent off to a donation center, and left in that brown station wagon.

It's astonishing to think about, but it's been 4 years since everything that happened at the asylum. I thought I would forget about the trauma and the despair, but it always came crawling back to me.

I would still see the monsters on the wall. For hours, I would stare at them. The monsters would leap towards me and I would jerk back, shielding myself with my hands, but the monsters would disappear, evaporating into white ash. Sometimes I would go to the park and sit on the swings, staring at the gray sky or children playing.

One time I saw a mother and father playing with their son in the sandbox. I chuckled, but my smile slowly vanished as I saw the dead bodies of my parents in their place. I got up from the swings and decided to take a walk on the hiking trail instead.

I refused to talk to anyone about what was happening to me. What I was seeing. Few people have tried to get me to open up, but I was always reminded of Dr. Owens which would make me shy away from attention again. 2 more years passed and I finally admitted the truth to myself:

I was in the deep dark hole of despair and trauma.

And no one could pull me out.