Subtle Obsession

By Ahamed Ali Khan

A mother is one being God has giventhis being will protect her child so that no harm would come to her child even if she has to lose her lifesuch is a mothers love, but what about a child who threatens to kill?

My gut feeling tells me that this will be over in a matter of days.


Look at this beach, this sandy beach, Waidnas said as he bent a little to scoop a handful of sand. This beach is beautiful, but if the sand is going to hurt me, when I drop on it, or land hard on it, then I will not return to this beach anymore, he spoke without looking at her, but letting the sand just drain from his palm.

* * *

Nature creates and then steals beauty, but man . . .man destroys itsometimes completely.

As he looked at her eyes, he could sense the deep, very, very deep sadness behind beauty.

As he stood on her shadow, for the very first time, he thought to himself, he was looking at beauty, beauty where it rightfully belongs, without all that unnatural application of talcum, or make-up, or whatever they call it, to enhance the beauty of oneself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: May 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499004823

Ahamed Ali Khan

Ahamed Ali Khan lives in Singapore. He works as a stage and television actor. With the ability to speak English, Malay, and Tamil, he has appeared in many local dramas, as well as TV commercials. This is his third book.

Book preview

THE SANDY BEACH

WILL HURT YOU

Ahamed Ali Khan

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CHAPTER 1

‘How many close friends do you have?’ the psychiatrist asked her.

‘A lot of friends,’ she answered.

‘What I mean is real close friends, I mean someone you can really talk to, you know, someone who is willing to spend maybe the whole day just listening to your problems…’ He looked at her as she nodded to let him know she understood his question.

‘Yes!’ she said and then smiled at him and, as she did so, pointed her finger at his chest and said, ‘You!’ and then burst into laughter.

He waited patiently for her to finish, not wanting to disrupt her flow of thoughts.

‘Jokes aside, my dear girl.’ The psychiatrist smiled as he spoke. ‘Now tell me, okay, besides myself, who else can you count on?’

There was silence, and a moment of hesitation. He knew she had no immediate answer to his question. That moment of hesitation was for her to think, to recall ‘who is the best person’ she can mention. As she laughed, she was trying hard to ‘capture’ a figure, just so that she can say, ‘Yes! I can count on her or him’.

‘You don’t have someone in mind, right?’ he asked, breaking the silence.

She stopped laughing. A moment of hesitation—it was a moment of wanting to say something… and then her eyes were filled with tears as she looked at him.

‘I used to have a close friend.’ She gestured, showing the sign of inverted commas, with her fingers in the air, when she said ‘close friend’. She stopped for a moment and looked at him. ‘But… but he is not with me anymore,’ she continued as she started sobbing.

He reached out for the box of soft tissue paper and placed it in front of her. She pulled out a ply, and then another, and slowly dabbed below her lower eyelids, and held on to the used tissue in her right hand.

He was observing her.

‘Not with you… you mean he left you for someone?’ he asked.

‘No!’ she was quick to reply. ‘I don’t know… I mean… not that I know of,’ she continued.

Her quick denials, and then an answer that she was not sure of, gave him a reason to note that she may know the reason why her close friend might have left her.

‘Do you know why he left you?’ he asked.

She was silent. Both her hands were now resting on her laps. A moment later, he could see that they moved, with slight jerks. He knew what she was doing, but he did not stop her.

‘Is there anger within you?’

She nodded.

‘The anger, I mean the kind of anger, is it because you are angry he left you, or do you blame yourself, and in doing so, the anger is directed towards yourself?’

‘I DON’T KNOW!’ she answered, rather loudly.

He knew the tone. Judging from the tone, he knew that the anger within her was gradually building up.

‘You need a drink?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, please!’ she said, more in a demanding way than a humble request.

Again, he was careful not to let her know what he had in mind. It will all form a part of the report he needs to file and then hand it over to the authorities. For the time being, the best thing to do, he thought, was to let her relax before continuing with the treatment. The first part of it was to question her and to learn from her answers the resulting behaviour that made her so violent that she threatened to kill her colleagues.

He picked up the phone, an antique type, and dialled. ‘Get me some cold water,’ he said and replaced the handset.

He looked at her. She avoided making any eye contact.

‘I need to go out for a while, I want you to stay calm, okay?’ he said as he stood up to leave the room.

‘Okay!’ she said in a high-pitched tone, just to let him know that she was in control of her ‘inner self’. ‘I’m sorry I cried earlier!’ she continued without lowering her high-pitched tone.

‘It’s okay,’ he replied. ‘You are here to express yourself, let yourself out, I mean, whatever you feel within you, I want you to do that… besides being your violent self. You know what I mean?’

‘Yes, Doctor!’ she replied without lowering her tone.

‘I’ll be back,’ he said as he opened the door.

He walked out, closing the door behind him. About fifteen minutes later, the door opened again, and the receptionist walked in with a tray on which there was a plastic bottle of cold mineral water and an empty plastic cup. She placed them in front of Dynas.

Dynas, the patient, looked hard at the receptionist. For about five seconds, her eyes were fixed on the lady who had just come in. Something struck her mind. She was about to ask a question, but something within her stopped her. She looked at the receptionist’s back, from her shoulder down to her ankles, as the receptionist bent to place the tray on the table.

‘You have a beautiful figure,’ Dynas said, as if she admired the beautiful figure of the receptionist.

The receptionist did not reply.

‘I am serious about what I am saying, okay!’ Dynas raised her voice. ‘I am not saying it just to please you or to make you feel good!’ Dynas continued, even louder this time.

The receptionist smiled, turned around, and started to walk away.

‘Hey! What are you smiling at! Haan!’ Dynas was loud as she stood up and stared at the receptionist, as if she was demanding an answer to her question.

The receptionist did not reply. While she smiled, she moved away from where she had placed the bottle of mineral water and made her way towards the door.

‘I am asking you! What are you smiling at!’ It was with the same loud tone.

There was no reply—no answer from the receptionist. Dynas sat down. The movement of Dynas’s hands continued. This time, the movement below the table became more vigorous. Then the movement stopped. She took the bottle of mineral water, twisted the cap, and drank from the bottle, instead of pouring into the cup and drinking from it. The receptionist observed her and, without saying a word, closed the door behind her as she stepped out of the room.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the door opened and the psychiatrist came in. Dynas looked up at him. She did not smile. Her eyes, he knew, were not focused on him. It was as if she was looking at an object very far away, while her eyes were fixed on him. It took a few seconds before she snapped out of the so-called ‘dream’ state and acknowledged him.

‘Doctor… aaah… you have a beautiful receptionist, haan!’ She managed a smile.

‘Oh! That’s my sister,’ he said.

‘No wonder, I thought she looked exactly like you,’ she said, and then without taking her eyes off him, she continued, ‘Tell her I am sorry I was harsh, I mean, I didn’t mean it, but, but, but then again, I think you ought to know by now, that is the way I speak.’

‘Oh no, it’s okay,’ he said, tapping her on her shoulder.

‘I really mean it, okay?’ she said as she looked away from him.

‘I know, yes, I know that. Don’t worry too much about that,’ he assured her.

‘I know I am such a bad person,’ she said, lowering her voice and sounding apologetic.

‘Sometimes it is good that we realize our mistakes and make an apology without even Being asked to. You must know that it is human to make mistakes, but it’s always difficult, yes, you need that kind of strength, I mean a lot of courage to lower yourself in the eyes of another person, usually the affected party, just to apologise,’ he said in the same ‘soft’ manner he had said before to many of his patients.

He was observing her as he spoke to her. The expression on her face changed gradually, from being apologetic to one filled with anger and disgust. He knew that.

‘You want another drink?’ he asked her.

‘No! No! Thank you!’ She shook her head violently.

‘Calm down, I want you to calm down,’ he said as he held her shoulders.

‘I think I need to go out for a while, you know, I feel… I feel…’ She was still shaking her head violently.

‘Can I give you your medicine to calm you down?’ he asked her, still placing his palms on her shoulders.

‘Yes! Yes! I need that.’

‘Okay! Just sit right here,’ he said as he gently pressed her shoulders.

He went out and came back with a small plastic dispenser, filled with Methotrimeprazine. It was supposed to make her relax. It is a sedative, normally prescribed by a doctor whose patient is diagnosed with schizophrenia—split personality.

A few days earlier, when her doctor told her he would have to prescribe oral medication to be taken only when she feels that her anger would build up gradually, she had refused.

She did not know that refusal to accept medication would lead her to react and behave in such an abnormal manner. She had never behaved in that manner before. It had overtaken her normal state of mind—she was shouting and screaming! She could not control herself. Some form of an evil demon within her had taken control of her mind, and her muscles would not conform to her will. Instead she exerted so much force, she had the strength to push the police officer who fell hard onto the ground.

‘OH GOD! PLEASE LET ME CONTROL MYSELF!’ she had shouted at the top of her voice the day she was arrested.

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CHAPTER 2

‘Stop struggling!’ the woman constable had shouted at her.

She struggled even more violently, giving them an extremely difficult time to handle her.

At the station, her answers were not consistent. Her answers were different, and the investigating officer knew that she was not in the right state of mind.

‘Doctor, I think you have a new patient,’ the police officer in charge had called the psychiatrist to alert him.

After the procedure of bringing charges against her and getting a date for her to be examined at the Institute of Mental Health, the psychiatrist was called in to question her. This was supposed to be a doctor-patient relationship rather than an investigating officer–criminal relationship.

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CHAPTER 3

She brought her fingers that held the tablet to her lips and then gently placed it at the tip of her tongue, tilted her head backwards, took in a mouthful of water, and then with a quick movement of her head, she swallowed her tablet.

‘Shall we go out now?’ he asked her.

‘Yes! No! I think I want to rest for a while, you know my heart is pounding… fast… very fast,’ she said as she placed her hand on her chest and looked at him.

‘It’s okay, you’ll feel relaxed now, don’t worry,’ he assured her.

Her head was rested on the backrest of the chair, and moments later, she dozed off.

The doctor left the room.

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CHAPTER 4

She opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred for a few seconds. A moving figure inside the room made her focus her attention. She closed her eyes tight and then opened them again. Her vision became clearer.

‘Who are you?’ she asked with a loud commanding voice.

With a broom in hand and a dustpan, it was obvious he is a cleaner. He was dressed in a white overall and wore a jockey cap, which actually shielded his eyes.

He did not answer her.

‘Oh! A cleaner,’ she said without waiting for him to answer.

His back was turned towards her as he made his way nearer to where she was sitting. She got up to allow him to sweep.

‘You know something? Your beard… I like men with beard. I mean a trimmed one like yours. It is neat, and it suits you well,’ she said, lowering her tone.

He did not answer her. Bits of tissue paper, just below the table were swept into the dustpan.

‘You know? I did that! Yes, I am responsible for shredding the tissue paper,’ she said, gradually increasing the tone.

The cleaner kept moving his hands in the same motion, pushing the bits of tissue paper into the dustpan.

‘Are you married?’ she asked.

He shook his head.

‘You attached?’

He nodded.

‘She must be lucky?’

He smiled and never answered.

‘Hey! I am telling you the truth!’ She raised her voice, the ever-commanding voice that she had no control of—or rather, she was unaware that such a tone would be considered a ‘commanding voice’.

Again he smiled and walked out of the room.

It took another fifteen minutes before the door opened and the doctor entered again.

‘Aaaaan! Doctor!’ She was excited. ‘I like that guy. He looks cute with beard,’ she said, grinning as if she felt embarrassed after having made a confession. ‘You know, my ex-boyfriend has got a trimmed beard, just like his, and he is more handsome of course, and, and…’ She hesitated, as if she was thinking of saying something else, but the words would not form in the order she wanted them to form to be spoken as a sentence.

The doctor smiled. She looked at him as he smiled. There was something that struck her mind. She shook her head, as if she was talking to someone right in front of her and was denying something.

‘Is there something else?’ he asked her, knowing very well that she had something on her mind.

‘Well… well…’ She hesitated again and then looked straight into his eyes and said loudly, ‘He looks exactly like you!’ and then started to laugh in an uncontrolled manner.

He waited patiently for her, as he would usually do with his other patients. He did not want to stop her flow of thoughts.

‘How you feeling now?’ the doctor asked her when her laughter had toned down into a mere smile.

‘Better.’

‘You said your boyfriend has got a trimmed beard, right?’ he asked her.

‘Yes! Yes! He has a trimmed beard, just like that guy, I mean that cleaner who was here earlier,’ she said with a sparkle in her eyes and a tone that showed real excitement.

This time, the doctor felt that she was expressing herself in a manner a lady would truly express oneself—not in the ever-commanding voice that would take control of her and make everyone around her feel really uneasy.

He observed her. It was like she was coming to her senses and then disappearing into her own world of anger, and then again going into a state of dream, smiling as if there was someone in front her who was actually responding to her smiles and answering all her abstract questions.

‘Do you still keep in touch with him?’

‘No,’ she answered softly, and then as if she was whispering a secret, she brought her palm towards her lips and said, ‘Actually, I should say he resembles you, I mean you know, his face.’ She moved her hand away from her lips and then placed it on her cheek.

‘Would you like to meet him, if you have a chance to?’

She looked hard at him, never taking her eyes off him.

‘That would only be a dream,’ she said as she stared hard at him and then burst into laughter.

The phone rang.

‘Hello, this is Dr Andy Thranh.’

It was the security personnel on the line.

‘We need to bring her back to her ward.’

‘You can fetch her in ten minutes’ time,’ Dr Andy Thranh replied, and then looked at her and said, ‘I will follow you to the holding area’, as he placed the handset onto the cradle.

She was calm, and as she looked up to meet his eyes, he felt that he was seeing the soft side of her. He said to himself that he should not let his emotions take control of his mind.

‘Who is that?’ she asked.

‘It is the hospital security, they will be here to take you away,’ he said as he looked at her without taking his eyes off her.

‘I do not want to leave,’ she said softly. ‘I feel good talking to you,’ she continued.

‘You have to go, Dynas,’ he said as he held out his hand.

She held his hand tightly as she started to cry.

‘No, no, you are not supposed to cry,’ he said. ‘We will be meeting again tomorrow,’ he continued.

She nodded and then stood up as if she was ready to leave.

‘Not now,’ the doctor said, gesturing her to sit down. ‘Wait for the security to come and fetch you.’

As she sat down once again, she wiped her tears with the back of her palms like a child would.

There was silence. He did not ask her anything, nor did she mention anything. He observed her. She was as calm as a child who would wait for a teacher, knowing very well that the teacher she is going to face is one who is really strict, someone who would ‘roar’ like a lion when a mistake is spotted. For the very first time, he noticed a sense of fear written on her face.

There was a knock on the door. The doctor stood up and went over to open it. It was the security personnel, together with a woman constable. The constable held her hand tightly and gestured her to stand up. The doctor could only look at them. He knew very well that they were performing their duty, and he had no right to say anything, to either suggest or even to command. He was fully aware of the fact that she was looking at him, and in that brief silent moment, Dr Andy Thranh could ‘hear’ her inner voice screaming, ‘DOCTOR, PLEASE HELP ME! I DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE! PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME!’

He knew it from her gaze, from the way she hesitated to take her next step towards the door.

I have to ignore my emotions, he said to himself as he went over to hold the door that was closing.

‘Please do not struggle like you did the other day,’ Dr Andy Thranh said as he opened the door once again to let them leave.

Doctor Andy followed them for a short distance, right up to a point where it is called ‘The Holding Area’.

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CHAPTER 5

‘I wish I can get a person, a guy who looks like her former close friend,’ Dr Andy Thranh said, looking at his fellow psychiatrist, Dr Seeth Lawnia, who had just joined the institute and was attached to his department.

It was their break time, and Doctor Andy had called Dr Seeth Lawnia over for coffee. He had related to her his morning at work and the patient under his psychiatric observation.

‘Why do you need someone who looks like him?’ Doctor Seeth asked.

‘Well, from my past experience with most of my patients, it helps them in recalling the past, especially the good times, the joyful moments, and something with which they can connect in an instant. They may want to go back to those beautiful days, and that gives them a reason to control themselves, emotionally of course. It is not an instant cure, but it leads to that gradually,’ Dr Andy Thranh replied.

‘Do you want me to help you with the report?’ Doctor Seeth asked.

‘I can manage,’ he replied. ‘Unless, of course, you come over to type it, and by doing so, you will have the full details,’ he continued.

‘I have finished with my patient today, and his family members are coming to fetch him later,’ Doctor Seeth said while sipping her coffee. ‘I don’t mind doing the report,’ she continued.

‘All right then, please meet me at Room 303 once you are done,’ he said as he got up to leave.

‘Okay, see you later,’ she said as she also got up to leave.

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CHAPTER 6

Dr Andy Thranh was back at his office-cum-consultation room.

The phone rang.

‘Hello, Dr Andy Thranh here.’

‘Hi, Doctor, this is Dr Seeth Lawnia.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Doctor Andy, I am unable to come over right now, it is a… ,’ she hesitated.

‘Any problem there?’ he asked.

‘Well… there is a problem… but… but… never mind about that… I, I will see you tomorrow,’ she said and hung up.

He was puzzled. He had never heard her sound like that before. He dialled her mobile number.

‘Hi, is there a problem or something?’ he asked without even waiting for her to say ‘hello’.

‘Well…’ She was still hesitant.

‘Any kind of alert, I mean emergency?’ he was concerned.

‘No, not at all, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she replied.

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CHAPTER 7

Room 303. The phone