Analyzing Isaac (manxman) NaNoWrimo 2013 Winner

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

(Isaac's Shower---->)

*WARNING...a little self loving going on..you have been warned.*

 

 Hanging up the phone I sat back with a troubled sigh. I had handed over the audio feed from the night Isaac had called me into his room where he had finally opened up and shared the gruesome memories of his time spent captivity with his psychotic Stepfather. My heart still ached for the little boy that had to turn into a man while enduring all of what he had. My respect and admiration for his strength and his will to survive under those circumstances knew no bounds. But unfortunately, Isaac was by right deeply affected by those same circumstances, although not as severely as he should have been. That was the testimony to his strength. They didn’t break him.

 Some people differed with my assessments, and yes, even some of my very own Colleagues in my own practice were amongst those that disagreed with me. They claimed that because Isaac had suffered a major Dissociative Episode and ultimately murdered his Stepfather was in itself a severe psychological break. But I didn’t see that way and would never diagnose it that way either.

 People tend to forget that as Homosapiens we are relative to our baser instincts. We are animals as well, and sometimes we digress into those lesser instincts to do what is necessary to survive. We as a species were on top of the food chain because of our highly evolved ability to reason and think. But underneath it all where our natural born instincts and preservation of self  lies the is our beast, that animal buried deep within our psyche that will come out and  take over to protect ourselves by any means necessary and that is what Isaac did.

 He protected himself after years of abuse. The fact that he can’t remember any of it is what concerned me the most. He had snapped and did what he had to do and once the stress and fear wore off he came back to himself. He didn’t dwell within the recesses of his mind.

 My trouble with it was that there had to be catalyst. Something had to have happened in that rank basement, something other than what was considered the routine actions of abuse that Isaac had grown accustomed to. An event that scared him so much that he feared for his very life and acted out by defending himself by any means necessary, and the fact that he was free to do after years of being bound was another piece to the puzzle. There had to be a trigger and currently whatever it was, it’s buried deep in Isaac’s mind. He has totally suppressed the traumatic event.

 I closed the transcript file on my computer of the recordings of Isaac retelling of his story. I felt bad that I didn’t tell him I was recording our conversation, but when he had begun to tell his tale I had gotten up and discreetly pressed the button behind his desk to activate the recording device that is wired into all the patients room just for that purpose. The legal clause of video and sound surveillance was very clear and actually pointed out in the admission procedures and paperwork. But I still should have told him what I was doing. And now I think the time is right to tell him about it and about his new Lawyer and what I was hoping to accomplish.

 I wasn’t going to share the Investigators findings just as yet, not until we have all the facts in place. So far it was gearing up to be that Isaac’s Stepfather had really targeted him to begin with, and marrying his Mother was only a means for the man to get closer to him. I also have come to the conclusion that his Stepfather did indeed murder the poor woman and abused Isaac with his sick perversions and twisted ideas of Sadism. The man was truly a monster.

 I turned off the computer and checked to make sure that everything was in its place before grabbing my things and locking my office door. This was going to be my third attempt in trying to go home to my own house after my chat with Isaac. It’s about time I did so. I didn’t feel like going home but what was I to do. I was literally coddling Isaac and torturing myself in the process, making myself dependant on the every sight of him every day. I was wondering if I was becoming obsessed with the man.