Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Shards of Broken Memories

"What happened to you, Gerald?" asked Matthew Paddock, with the look of surprise splattered on his face.

Gerald sat in the chair with his right hand strapped to the table leg in the middle of the empty room. There were no windows, just white walls and a door with just enough of an opening to provide a glimpse of the long hallway outside. Gerald grew restless, as even though there was no clock to show the time, he knew the opportunity was slipping away or rather, it was already gone. He looked carefully at the man sitting in front of him. His white coat extended all the way down to his knees, while the silver-rimmed glasses resting against the break of his nose gave him a hawk-like appearance. The strands of grey hair spiralling throughout his head showed his middle age, although there was no sign of folding across the skin.

"Matthew Paddock." The name sounded oddly familiar to him, and after examining every nook and cranny of his being, Hunter could sense an eerie feeling of Deja vu.

"What... What happened to Mr. Hume? He was running and...." Gerald stopped mid-sentence.

"He... is at the hospital. We don't know when he'll regain consciousness but it seems he was badly injured in the accident," Matthew Paddock said.

"You mean when you ran him over?" said Gerald.

"No! He came running into me. Why would I deliberately hit Mr. Hume? But tell me, why were you two running?" Matthew Paddock's asked inquisitively.

Gerald did not say anything and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence Matthew Paddock spoke again, "Where have you been all these years, Gerald?"

Evidently, the man knew him, perhaps all too well; however, Gerald could not pin down his recollection of the man's identity, for it eluded him like a receding light beam in a settling mist.

"Who...who are you again?" Gerald asked, confused.

"You don't remember?"

"Do I look like I do?" Gerald grew hostile.

"I'm Dr Matthew Paddock. I was your therapist at Orchard Grove Asylum."

"What asylum?!" Gerald asked, his face turned grave as he edged closer to an unpleasant realization.

"The one near the shore. My God! Don't you recall anything?"

Gerald felt tied down in every sense as he desperately tried to push through the blockade that his mind had erected.

"I... I was never locked up in some madhouse," Gerald protested in a meek voice.

"I knew you were sick, but this is just...."

"Just what? I know every single moment of my miserable life, and I'm telling you, no one ever put me away for being crazy." Gerald tugged on the shackles a few times to express his discontent.

"Wait here." Matthew Paddock got up and swiftly walked out of the room.

Gerald tapped his fingers on the surface of the empty desk, thinking about his next move. Time was running out, and he did not want Hume to escape.

"Hume... Hume... Mr. Thomas Hume!!!"

Gerald could feel a brick wall crashing into his face as his jaw almost dropped to the ground before a storm broke out in his head.

"He sent me to kill the Director? Why?" Gerald asked himself repeatedly, ultimately receiving a blank slate from within.

Although the first thought that came to his mind upon reading the letter was the orphanage in Jersey, it never crossed Gerald's mind that his target was someone closely related to him.

Moreover, the feeling poked his mind that the people he was going about murdering had links to his life, but Gerald dismissed it as being too far-fetched. But Thomas Hume! The name had not struck Gerald immediately when he saw it on that note, for he had always known the man as "The Director", but somehow the re-emergence of a memory of one of the caretakers mentioning the man's name many years ago had now led him to the realization.

As the feeling of stumbling onto something significant fostered inside, Gerald laid out the dots in his mind, trying to salvage some form of conclusion. He went by his first theory that all his victims were related to each other, for it seemed the most reasonable based on his findings. The knot tying the three together, except for Angela Dawson, was their connection to a cult or commune on some island.

"Some island...," he mumbled

Gerald fell back to his chair as the feeling dug itself into his brain.

"Jersey? It was an island! And the cult? The orphanage...we had too attend those meetings...no, rituals...every few weeks? Yes! We met in that secret place. It was called the temple of the rose."

The train of thought left Gerald scratching his head as he understood how he had been meticulously glossing information that was plain as day. Jenna had even said that her husband worked in Guernsey and Jersey, and it did not alarm him in the slightest.

Adding to his beads of realization, Gerald felt a twitch in his chest thinking about how every time he had a hunch about anything related to the murders, it had been unusually accurate. Even the conclusion about the trio being linked, Gerald just knew there had to be a connection, although there was no reason to think so. And now the man in the white coat was telling him he was once locked in an asylum which only proliferated his bewilderment, for Gerald felt there was truth to his words even if he could not recollect any such experience. It was as though something was preventing him from accessing the entirety of his mind, only offering a momentary glimpse before fading away in some dark corner inside his head.

"Why can't I fucking remember? Did something happen...?" Gerald's imagination had started to run amuck when it was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open.

Matthew Paddock walked in with a large blue folder in his hands and put it on the table in front of Gerald.

"What's this?" Gerald asked.

"It's the records from your time at the asylum. Well, until the day you escaped. I knew the trials messed with your head, but I could never fathom that it would be to such an extent."

Gerald reluctantly grabbed the file without protest and opened it up. The first few pages seemed to contain lengthy evaluations of Gerald's condition.

"Go to page 12," said Matthew Paddock.

Gerald obliged, turning over the leaves until the number on the bottom showed "12".

The next few moments were unsettlingly silent as Gerald stared at the photographs stuck in the middle of the page. It was the front and side profile of a man in a white gown, whose face uncannily resembled Gerald's in his younger years. Confounded, Gerald looked at the bottom corner of the page where in addition to descriptions of his condition, was a date inscribed that read 14 June 1971. The pages slipped from his hand as the foggy curtain blockading his memory suddenly started to lift. The sound of the camera shutter slowly steadily started to increase its presence in his ears as Gerald's eyes flickered from the images of bright flashes. Large dumps of recollection made their way into the light while Gerald experienced visions of him being in a room similar to the one he was in currently, gazing outside a long hallway.

"What...what is all this?" Gerald asked meagerly.

"It's who you are, Gerald," Matthew Paddock replied calmly.

"No. It can't be." Gerald involuntarily mounted a futile protest as he still came to terms with his past.

"Let me ask you something. Do you remember where you were from the age of 17 to 21?"

"I...I remember running away from the orphanage when I was 17," Gerald said hesitantly as though unsure of his own words.

"Yes, but what happened immediately after that? Where did you go?"

"I...went to England."

"Do you remember yourself arriving in England?" Matthew Paddock slightly leaned forwards.

"Yes," Gerald said confidently, for that memory was in a pristine state.

"Good, I want you to think back. Close your eyes and picture yourself in that time," Matthew Paddock instructed.

Gerald replayed the memory in his mind, visualizing the cloudy skies at the harbor when his boat came ashore.

"How old are you there, Gerald? Are you still 17?" Matthew Paddock asked calmly.

Gerald wanted to say yes, but even though he could not see his own face, there was a strong feeling that he could not be 17. He felt much older, and most importantly, now that he was scrutinizing his recollection, he remembered feeling anxious in his memory. Seconds later, Gerald recounted constantly looking back to see if someone was following him, for there was a heavy feeling of him running away from something. Comprehending what had happened, Gerald opened his eyes but did not say anything, instead staring blankly at Matthew Paddock, who had understood Gerald's realization by the look on his face. A few moments passed with neither of them speaking until Gerald's impatience got the better of him.

"But then why can't I remember? I can't remember a thing after I was 15. Every time I try to think back, it's just me running away from the shelter and then finding myself at the shores of England. I... I know I spent time in Jersey, but I don't know for how long... it..." Gerald broke down mid-sentence, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions.

"You are ill, Gerald," Matthew Paddock said.

"ILL? I'm a monster. If only you know what I did. What I was planning on doing."

"It wasn't you. It wasn't your fault." Matthew Paddock tried to console Gerald, but the words only amplified his anger.

"Wasn't my fault? How the fuck would you know if it was or wasn't my fault?"

"But I observed you for four long years, Gerald. I know enough to confidently say, whatever it was, you did not mean to do it."

Gerald felt the tears gushing down his cheeks for the words, although most likely shallow, struck a chord in his heart. He had only wanted someone to care about him all his life, and it seemed Matthew Paddock was the first man Gerald met in years that did so.

"Don't worry about it, Gerald. You're in safe hands now," Matthew Paddock said, his voice sounded reassuring to Gerald.

"Why was I locked up?"

Gerald could notice Matthew Paddock's face turning pale at the question, and he mumbled a few words, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic initially. However, Gerald remained undeterred, and after countless bouts of arguments, Mr. Paddock got up from his chair and started pacing around the room.

"I don't think we should put so much pressure on your mind. Best to take it one step at a time," he said.

"No!!! I need to know now! I have nightmares about some incident that I know happened to me, but I can't fucking remember. I need you to tell me why was I locked up. What did I do?"

After a long stare down, Matthew Paddock finally gave in, saying, "You did not do anything, Gerald. You did not do anything."

"Then who did?"

"I did," Matthew Paddock said coldly.

"What the fuck are you on about? You did what?" Gerald asked, demanding answers.

"It was almost ten years ago. I had just completed my psychiatric study and, like most others looking for work. But I was denied for most practices only accepted doctors from high backgrounds, and a lowly commoner like me did not have the backings of a noble family. So, I spent most of my days in obscure parts of England, providing simple treatment to people who did not know better to protest. One day, when I was at my practice in a small neighborhood in Blackpool, a man by the name of Riley Wyatt came to visit me. He already knew my name and told me that he was from a company called DarkRibbon Pharmaceuticals, and they were looking for new doctors. I questioned him how he had heard of me, but he did not say anything about that, only telling me that their company was working on a drug to cure schizophrenia and needed someone with knowledge of psychiatry. Seeing as my current practice was a dead end, I agreed to go with him. He brought me to Jersey, where I met a woman called Miss Angela Dawson."

Gerald restrained himself when he heard the name, curbing the words in his mouth as Matthew Paddock continued.

"Our job was to study patients with signs of mild schizophrenia and test the new medicine on them. But what I found strange was that most of the subjects were children and were often orphans. They would never tell me where they got them from; only a new patient would be enlisted at the facility every few weeks, and we'd conduct our study on them. It was not until five months into my tenure that I first saw Thomas Hume dropping you off. I learnt that he had ties to the corporation; his job was to provide children from his orphanage to be guinea pigs, and he was impeccable at his work. So, like others, I performed your examination, and Miss Dawson oversees the administration of the drug."

"What happened next?" Gerald asked, seeing Matthew pause. "Everything was supposed to go well, but you started experiencing violent episodes which had happened a few times with others but never on the magnitude of your level. I pushed for stopping the experiment, but suddenly Hume entered the room. I argued with him, but all he said was the process had to be carried out. I remember him saying, "I have enough of these worthless bastards to spend a few." But I was most shocked when Miss Dawson agreed to participate when asked by Hume if she could do it on her own. So, I stood there as Angela injected with potent sedatives to calm you down. The doses were administered, and we were asked to monitor your condition for the next few days. And just as I expected, your condition had terribly worsened as you started to show signs of split personality disorder along with severe schizophrenia. So we just locked you up at Orchard Grove. They all expected you to be dead within a year, as most of them had before you, but somehow you managed to live and even escaped one night. I tried looking for you, Gerald, but after a while, I just thought it was for the best that you went your own way."

Matthew Paddock exhaled as he finished his recount, noticing that Gerald was blankly staring at him.

"I'm sorry." Matthew Paddock said softly.

"Sorry? You paddy bastard! You made me into a lab rat and just hoped that I'd die? You motherfucking coal-cracking cunt. I'm gonna cut you into pieces just like I did to Wyatt and Dawson and feed you to the fucking fishes!"

Gerald's words soon spiraled into an avalanche of curses and ethnic slurs directed at Matthew, who did not protest but just lazily gazed at the table with sheer indifference to the outburst, only raising his eyebrows at the last part of the tirade.

"Y... you did what?" Matthew Paddock stuttered for the first time, his tone hinting at being agitated as the masquerade of his nonchalant demeanor started to slip.

"You people made me into a monster. I didn't know who they were when I stabbed them to death, but now that I do, those fuckers deserved every bit of it."

Gerald started laughing hysterically as he banged his fists onto the table in despair. Matthew Paddock's expression, on the other hand, turned from frightened to baffled as he asked, "What do you mean you didn't know? Why did you kill them then?"

Gerald remained silent for some time, for he did not want to disclose the details of his actions, but in time, he slowly came to terms with the realization that everything was already over, and he would most likely spend the rest of his days locked up in this place as a lunatic. However, he could not help but feel that there was a silver lining in the entire ordeal, for whoever had been sending him all those letters could not do any more harm, for no court would sentence a mentally ill person like Gerald was.

Ultimately, it was a strange twist of fate and sheer rotten luck that this was as good as his life was going to get, neglected and forgotten in some dark corner. Taking a deep breath, Gerald recounted the incidents to Matthew, who hearkened to his every word. He told him about the brawl with Nathaniel Wellesley and how someone had taken a photograph of Gerald moving his dead body and used it to coerce him into killing Ezekiel, Riley and Angela and now Thomas Hume.

"Ezekiel Harkens?" Matthew Paddock asked.

"Yes," Gerald said coldly.

"But what did he ever do to you? As far as I know, he was an insurance manager for the laboratory. I only met him once."

"I don't fucking know. I've been trying to find out why whoever it is would send me on a killing spree, but so far, I have no fucking clue. And I don't give a fuck now that I know what they did to me. What YOU did to me. Maybe I should have killed you like I did the rest of them."

"Do you have the note with you now?" Matthew Paddock asked.

"Gerald reached into his jacket's pocket with his right hand and pulled out two envelopes containing instructions for killing Angela Dawson and Thomas Hume, along with Angela's photographs and of him moving Nathaniel Wellesley's body.

"What about the rest?"

"I burnt them." Gerald curtly said.

Matthew Paddock examined the contents inside the envelope and said,

"I see you got Angela's photograph. What about Thomas Hume's?"

"There was none. The place only had an address and a name. Read the fucking letter."

Matthew Paddock opened the packet and pulled out a piece of white paper that said, "Thomas Hume. 5 Rue du Motier, Jersey. You'll know him when you see him. Make sure he is taken care of swiftly, for this is the most important one of them all. Sincerely, your benefactor."

Not saying anything further, Matthew Paddock got up from his chair, taking the folder and envelopes along with him. "Hey, where are you going now?"

"Don't worry, Gerald. You're safe now. The staff will take you to your room shortly. You have nothing to worry about now."

A few moments later, two security guards came and led Gerald to his room. He did not protest, just sighed that everything had to end this way. As he lay on the bed, Gerald thought about how he was a free man earlier this morning, but now he was going to spend the rest of his days behind bars. Nevertheless, a shred of consolation for him would be that he was going to have the peace and quiet he always wanted, and no matter how sinister this Matthew Paddock's actions appeared to him, for the first time, Gerald did not have a terrible gut feeling about the man. There was only one chagrin that Thomas Hume had gotten away, but considering the car had hit him with such force that he was unlikely to recover again, Gerald chalked the incident up as an act of retribution for the man's misdeeds.

The next few weeks passed unremarkably, with Gerald adjusting to life inside the facility. The people seemed calm enough for being mentally unstable as they spent whatever time they had out in the open, sitting quietly in the hall room playing cards and engaging in other leisure activities. At first glance, no one would ever suspect that these people were suffering from any ailments; only when carefully inspected did they show any signs of being ill. The occasional talking to oneself or going several days without any interaction or just the sheer struggle some people had while communicating their thoughts to the world kept Gerald aware of his surroundings. He tried to establish rapport with other residents, participating in their games and talking to those who would bother listening, but as soon as he felt a sense of belonging, the unpleasant realization that his mind had been twisted on a much more visceral level sunk any hope that had blossomed in the corners of his heart.

Matthew Paddock would visit him every couple of days and conduct his examination. He had left DarkRibbon many years back, instead retiring to caring for the discarded mess the schizophrenia research program he had created. Paddock often spoke about how it was meant to serve a greater purpose, but perhaps treating unsuspecting humans as lab rats tainted any goodwill or potential to success there ever was. Gerald asked him a couple of times out of sheer curiosity whether he had a chance of becoming a normal person ever again, to which he would only reply with, "I don't know. There may be hope."

Gerald did not bother asking for details, for secretly, he did not want to be cured, as it would either land him in prison or throw him back onto the streets once more. He felt safe here, knowing that someone cared about his well-being, something he had never experienced before.

It was a Sunday evening when Matthew Paddock showed up for Gerald's weekly check-up, but instead of the usual cheerful bearing, his face bore signs of shock and bewilderment as though he was deeply pondering over something.

"What's wrong?" Gerald asked, sitting upright on his bed.

"It's Mr. Hume. He died today. The injuries were too grave," said Matthew Paddock.

Gerald wanted to say "I'm sorry," but he did not feel any remorse, instead a strange sense of relief came over him.

"Come with me. I want to show you something," said Matthew Paddock.

"Where are we going? Don't tell me I'm being moved someplace else."

"Just come with me." Matthew Paddock curtly ordered.

Gerald did not show any reluctance as he quietly followed the doctor down the hallway, ultimately stopping in front of a room that he immediately recognized to be the one where Paddock had told him about his identity.

"Go sit down. I'll be with you in a moment."

Matthew Paddock opened the door, revealing the same single table and two chairs in the middle of the room. Unlike the other day, Gerald did not have his hands cuffed this time while waiting for Paddock to return, but deep down, he knew the therapist was going to deliver unnerving news.

You are reading story Hidden Duplicity at novel35.com

A few moments later, Matthew Paddock walked into the room, carrying the same old large folder but this time Gerald noticed he was also carrying a pen and a writing pad.

"Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?" Gerald asked as Matthew Paddock thumped down on the seat.

"I... I have been reading the two letters you gave me." Matthew Paddock softly said.

"And? Look if you wanna give them to the police, be my guest. I'm not worried about anything now. You can't put a deranged man into jail for murders someone else forced him to commit," Gerald said confidently.

Letting out a gush of air through his mouth, Matthew Paddock said, "That is true. They can't put you away because of your condition. As for someone else forcing you to commit the murders, that is what I'm here to talk to you about."

Matthew Paddock turned the pages of the writing pad and pushed it towards Gerald.

"I want you to write exactly what's on the note."

Matthew Paddock handed over a piece of paper containing instructions for killing Thomas Hume. Gerald wanted to show his hesitation, but the display was curbed by Matthew's piercing gaze. He did not like what was happening, but putting his pen on the paper, Gerald started copying the words on the letter. After he had written the first line, his hands started to tremble as he noticed something peculiar for the first time.

"Don't stop," Matthew Paddock sternly said.

Gerald tried to turn and twist the stroke of his alphabets to evade what he had just learnt, but no matter how much he tried, the resemblance was uncanny.

"You can't change the way you write. Even if you try a different style, the pressure points remain the same," remarked Paddock.

After completing the writing, Gerald gazed at the paper with a dumbfounded stare as Matthew Paddock placed the second note containing the message regarding Angela Dawson.

"I know what you're trying to imply doctor. It can't..." Gerald tried to voice his protest but was interrupted by Matthew.

"Go ahead, do it. We'll think about the rest later."

Once again Gerald started copying the writing on the paper, trying his hardest to not replicate exactly what he saw, but it seemed he had no control over the movements of his wrist for the second letter too exactly matched his handwriting.

"When you gave me the envelopes that day, I just forgot about them. But two nights ago for some reason, I decided to check on them. At first, there was nothing particular that caught my attention; it was just a note written by someone with inferior penmanship, but then it struck me."

Matthew Paddock started digging into the thick folder on the table and pulled out several sheets of paper stapled together.

"In those four years when you were at Orchard Grove, you spent a large amount of time scribbling words onto the paper. I never took you for the literary type until one day you showed me this. It is a perfect sample of your handwriting which I cross-examined against the letters."

Gerald looked at the stack of pages, with a few words inscribed on the front sheet that immediately caught his eyes prompting him to vigorously pick it up and hold it in front of him.

"The man with the brown suitcase." Astounded, Gerald turned through the leaves, carefully reading what was written on the pages desperately trying to find irregularities.

"Where.... where did you find this?" Gerald asked, his voice shivering in shock.

"You gave it to me. When you ran away, I put it in your file."

"Did you show it to anyone?"

"What?" Matthew Paddock asked, with an utter look of confusion.

"I said, "Did you ever show it to anyone?"" Gerald screamingly said.

"Calm down! Look nobody knows, and even I had forgotten this existed."

Seeing the signs of flustering on the doctor's face, Gerald restrained his outburst, taking a quieter tone and saying, "Someone must have got their hands on a copy of this. Or I don't know someone saw this and then decided..."

"What's wrong with you? It's just a story you wrote. Why would anyone bother?" Matthew Paddock's annoyance started to become visible,

"Because I read the same thing in a book a few days back," Gerald said.

"What?"

"The book had only one story and more than half the pages were empty. There was no author's name or any other sort of record. But it was the same story I have here. Every single fucking word!"

Upon hearing Gerald's recount, Matthew Paddock once again assumed his unhinged posture and said, "Gerald, you are sick. It's better if you take some rest. We'll discuss this later."

"No! I'm telling you someone's looked me up and then followed me around. It must have been this "benefactor". I know he's trying to mess with my head."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Matthew Paddock ever-so-slightly leaned forwards and in a dreaded tone said, "Gerald, you are the benefactor. You wrote those letters."

"What are you talking about?" Gerald's face went blank.

"You are the person who's been writing the letters. You forced yourself to commit those murders. Well, at least a part of you did it."

"Hahahaha!!!! And I thought I was the one "screwed in the head."" Gerald said, mocking the doctor's voice.

"You saw what just happened. Your writing aligns impeccably with the ones on the murder notes," Matthew Paddock said in a growling voice.

"I...What about the photo? Nathaniel Wellesley? You have it, don't you? You've seen it. If I was the one writing the letters to myself, then who took that fucking picture?" Gerald clenched his fists, trying to control his rage.

"I knew you'd ask about this. Wait here."

Matthew Paddock rushed out of the room and within a few seconds came running back with a handheld camera. Gerald sat silently as Matthew tinkered with the settings and placed the camera on the middle of the table, pointing at him.

"Go stand near the wall at that end." Matthew Paddock said as he reclined away from the camera, taking his hands off the machine.

Gerald quietly got up from his seat and walked over towards the far end of the room, standing against the wall.

"Now what?" He asked.

"Wait for thirty seconds," Matthew Paddock replied.

After almost half a minute, as Gerald was about to move away from his position, he heard a snapping sound; the noise of the shutter closing echoed through the mostly empty room as a sly smile appeared on Matthew Paddock's face.

"Come here," Matthew Paddock called Gerald, who slowly walked over and thumped down onto his chair.

The doctor pulled out the film from the camera and held the negatives in front of Gerald's face, displaying images of him standing against the wall. It was almost as if someone else had taken the photograph and Gerald could feel his head spin as the possibility that there was some shred of truth to Matthew Paddock's words crept up in his mind.

"But... why?" Gerald asked, the words tumbling in his mouth.

Matthew Paddock bit his lips and said, "It's your mind. I learnt it during the last days of your stay at Orchard Grove. You have two completely different personalities. Kind of like two people living inside one head."

"But I can't remember writing anything or taking a camera with me when I went to move Nathaniel Wellesley's body," Gerald said.

"I have often heard psychiatrists mention of this disease, but you're the first person to exhibit the symptoms so severely. What basically happens is at any time, one specific personality controls your actions. Once that part of your identity has accomplished its tasks, the other personalities take over. And in most cases, the memories of one is not accessible to the others. I believe a part of you, the one that is now dormant, wrote those letters and forced you to commit those murders."

"But why force another part of me to do this? Can't that evil part of my mind have done it by itself?" Gerald asked.

"Your mind does not want to have this constant rift. It wants to have one particular identity, have one concept of morality, and that isn't possible when one part of you is constantly trying to destroy the other."

"So?" Gerald asked, confused.

"So, they clash until there is one dominant personality controlling you, and this is precisely what happened. Your mind is forcing you to choose one over the other, and it seems the vengeful, dark part of you is in control. I mean if it wasn't for me, you would have murdered Thomas Hume for what he did to you."

Gerald sat in silence as Matthew Paddock tried to console him. It was an enormous realization for him to come to terms with the fact that he was his own worst enemy. All of a sudden, the sense of security that he had felt behind the walls of this sanctuary had dissipated. A feeling of volatility gripped Gerald as he became unsure of what he was capable of and what he could do next.

"I... what happens now?" Gerald asked.

"You stay here, and I continue to examine you," Matthew Paddock replied.

Gerald once again went quiet as Matthew Paddock walked up to him and patted his back.

"You are a good man, Gerald, you are a good man."

Gerald grabbed Matthew's hand breaking into tears.

"It's alright, it was never your fault," said doctor Paddock when suddenly a nurse walked into the room carrying some files.

"Doctor Paddock we need you to sign these forms."

Dr. Paddock turned around to grab the papers to read them over before signing them. While he was doing so the nurse noticed Gerald crying while looking down at his feet.

"Oh no, what's wrong Gerald? Are you not feeling well again today? If you want we can talk after you’re done with doctor Paddock."

Her voice brought utter shock to Gerald as he opened his eyes wide and slowly looked up at her face.

To his dread it was exactly the voice of the person he thought he heard.

"Genevieve...?" he whispered in utter shock.

Genevieve kindly smiled back at him. "That's me, what's with that look?"

"N-N-No w-why are you are you here?" he stuttered opening and shutting his eyes trying to ascertain if what he was seeing was an illusion or not.

"Oh Gerald, you know I work here. Did you forget me again?" she nonchalantly answered.

"NO! NO! You're not here! I killed you! I killed you! I buried you I know I did!!!" Gerald shouted abruptly getting up from his chair and backing away.

"Gerald calm down and take deep breathes!" Doctor Paddock replied trying calm him down.

"Oh dear, I'll go get help." Highly concerned for him Genevieve quickly ran out of the room.

Doctor Paddock tried to slowly approach Gerald.

"STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he shouted in protest grabbing his chair while fanning it at Doctor Paddock.

"Gerald please!" doctor Paddock desperately shouted.

Genevieve finally returned with two male nurses and a security guard. It took all four of them to restrain him as Genevieve watched distraught.

"I killed you! I killed you! I killed you!" Gerald continued shouting until doctor Paddock injected him with something that put him to sleep.

Gerald woke up several hours later in a bed retrained at his ankle, wrists and forehead. He tried freeing himself shaking profusely but found it was impossible.

"HEY! Let me out! What is this!" he shouted while continuing to struggle.

The door abruptly opened as a male nurse walked in to check his restraints. He confirmed they were tightly secured.

"Gerald don't worry doctor Paddock will be here soon, OK buddy?" the man said trying to reassure him.

The man's calm tone seemed to have relaxed Gerald slightly. He felt a slight familiarity to the man despite not recognizing him.

Doctor Paddock walked in shortly after. He looked over at the nurse. "Leave us will you?" the doctor said.

The man nodded and left.

"Good evening Gerald, how are you feeling?" asked the doctor.

Gerald didn't answer him and instead stared at a pen in the doctor's front coat pocket.

"Gerald? I asked how you are doing today?" the doctor insisted.

Gerald looked up at him. "Tell me, did I really kill people or did I image all of that?" he asked.

"Now Gerald, let's not talk about things that might get you agitated, alright?" the doctor answered.

Gerald quickly glared at the doctor shouting, "TELL ME! I NEED TO KNOW!"

Doctor Paddock paused for a moment. He stared into Gerald's eyes and answered, "You did, I'm sorry but that's the truth."

Gerald looked into the man's eyes and knew he wasn't lying.

"And Genevieve, was she really there yesterday or did I imagine that?" he asked but averted his gaze when doing so.

Doctor Paddock was surprised by the question. "Genevieve? You mean nurse Shaw. Well, you didn't imagine her. She has been your nurse here for the past few months. She has been helping you quite a bit actually. She was on vacation for the past week but came yesterday."

"Months...? What do you mean months? I've only been here for three weeks," Gerald protested looking back at the doctor.

Doctor Paddock was taken aback by Gerald's reply. "Gerald..." The doctor looked like he wanted to say something but refrained from doing so.

"Answer me doc! What do you mean months?!" Gerald pressed on.

Doctor Paddock ignored him and removed a syringe from his coat pocket. "We'll talk more in the morning. This will help you sleep."

As doctor Paddock approached, Gerald remembered he felt his right wrist restraint loose earlier. He the waited for the doctor to get closer and once he felt the doctor was close enough Gerald looked at the doctor, a form of nefarious intentions visible in his eyes.

Gerald pulled his own arm out so brutality it nearly dislocated his wrist. In the same instant he grabbed the doctor's pen. Before the doctor could react with one swift motion stabbed the doctor's throat. Doctor Paddock tried to scream, but the strike had damaged his vocal cords causing his shrieks to muffle. He clasped his throat instinctively, which caused Gerald to strike repeatedly. As the doctor lay dying, he looked at Gerald with petrified eyes, who whispered, "I kill because I like it and you deserve it. I would've killed you long ago for what you did to me, but you walked to your death all by yourself. Thank You, doctor."

Later that night, a man in a long white coat stepped out of the asylum gates. The guard at the entrance wanted to stop him as he felt something unusual about the person, thinking he did not resemble any doctor working there. But seeing the glasses and an identity card hanging from the man's neck, he did not say anything else. The man got out on the streets, and a smile appeared on his face as he felt the bloody pen resting in his pocket. Moments later, a cab stopped at his signal. "Where to?"

"Saint Helier Marina and then off this lousy island." The man smilingly replied, his white coat swaying in the cool sea breeze.

END OF PART ONE

 

 

Author's Note: Hey everyone, this concludes the first part of the story. I haven't decided when or if I'll continue this story since I'm working on other more exciting stories at the moment. Be sure to check them out once I post them in the future. In the meantime, I'm currently still posting "A Knight's tale" which is a completely different story about a man who wanted to change his stars. As for this story, I may continue depending on the demand for a continuation. Let me know what you guys thought of "Hidden Duplicity: Part One" in the comments and please leave a review. Thank you.

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