Suppressed by Psychosis...

The day was dark, a storm had been forecast, and the rain had begun to lash against the double-pane glassed doors... I had no intention of venturing out for the entire weekend. I had lit the fire hours before and it gave the room a beautiful, warm glow. The candle was almost out but I was still surrounded by the aroma of Sage and Salt. It gave me a sense of protection. I sat pensive and deep in thought. Who could I email next? I had been searching for hours in an attempt to find someone, anyone, to help us.

I heard a car door close, my heart skipped a beat, and I instinctively knew that it was my Brother. Adrenaline flooded my tiny frame as I awaited the three knocks of the door that was indicative of personality number two. I peered around the corner of the hallway, waiting for his shadow to block out the natural light flooding the space. The light diminished and even though I knew who it was, I still jumped.

I placed my phone on record and slipped it into my dressing gown pocket. I opened the door... "Hey, you. Are you okay?" I asked. "Come in."

He looked dishevelled as he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. I gave him a hug but I could instantly tell that he was uncomfortable so I pulled away. I asked if he wanted a drink, coffee, tea, water, but he didn't respond and instead made his way to the living room and sat in his usual spot. I think he secretly had a soft spot for the reclaimed wooden, industrial stool. It was one of my favourite pieces of furniture and he was drawn to it whenever he was in crisis.

I curled back up on the sofa, leaving plenty of space between us as I could already tell he was agitated. His left foot tapping against the polished wooden floor, his knee raising up and down as he fiddled with his blue and white cap.

His head hung down and he didn't seem to want to make eye contact. I carefully judged the situation. His sadness had engulfed the comfy room, stripping it of its warmth. I could feel his pain emanating from him and all I wanted to do was to hug him, reassure him, and tell him that things could be fixed. Unfortunately, this was not possible and instead I sat waiting for him to speak, my eyes filled and I fought against allowing the tears to fall upon my cheeks.

His head raised and he also had tears in his eyes. He said, "Look at me. What have I been doing?" He had no concept of what had occurred over the four months prior to this point. This was the first time I had been shown a glimpse of my Brother for what felt like forever.

We spoke briefly and I spoke as gently as possible, mindful that he couldn't bear noise. I didn't want to seem invasive or confuse him in any way. He told me fragments of his confused and delusional thoughts and I felt like I was being crushed.

The visit seemed to be going well until his head dropped once more. His body altered slightly and when his head had fully raised his posture had changed completely. He looked directly at me, our eyes locked, and I instantly knew I was in trouble. His whole body had completely tensed; he looked like he was made of stone. His eyes were black, focused and angered. It looked like his entire being loathed me. When he stood up, I began to get extremely anxious and my heart began to beat rapidly. I had, of course, seen his personality switch before but not as quickly and not to this extent.

I took a deep breath and tried to be as calm and as firm as possible. "I think it may be best if you go home now." Normally, he would agree and immediately leave, but not this time. This time was different. He responded in a different voice. It was low, gravely and sinister. "I'm not going anywhere."

The vibe of the room was now as black and volatile as the weather outside. This was new territory for me and I had no idea what he was capable of doing and the thought made me terrified.

He began taking steps towards me and I was fully aware that I had nowhere to go, I was backed against the sofa, which was backed against the wall. I was effectively closed in. He kept walking closer until he was directly in front of me and in that moment I became aware of just how much taller he was than me, which was odd.

He forcefully pushed me back until I was once again sat on the sofa. Then he blurted out in a growling voice, "Give me money."

I said, "I'm sorry. I don't have any cash on me."

The response I had given appeared to be unacceptable and he began to raise his voice.

I tried to reason with him and calm the situation but it was useless. He had switched to personality three and his mannerisms became extremely concerning. He was stepping back and forth and I felt completely intimidated by someone who I was usually extremely close with. Our family had grown small and we were all each other had.

He was now shouting and calling me a witch. He ranted about demons and things with white eyes. He pushed the coffee table with his foot until it hit the sideboard and abruptly came to a halt. He then grabbed a handful of the beautiful bouquet of flowers that had been delivered the day before. The scented roses, herbs, and foliage lay scattered across the floor like confetti.

I had never seen his aggression to this extent. I was aware that it had been escalating, but he had never outwardly shown any sign of aggression toward me before. The situation was getting out of hand and so I said, "Could you please leave? You're scaring me and it's time to go." How stupid I was to have thought that he could be reasoned with. Instead of leaving, he began pushing me around the living room. He could barely contain the anger and he was having bursts of extreme aggression.

He was now shouting so loudly and ferociously that the entire street must have been aware that something was wrong. He continued to damage my furniture, and any attempt I made to prevent him from destroying proved to be fruitless as he would push and push me until I was slammed into a wall or piece of furniture.

I had no idea of how to stop him so I took a deep breath and started to push him back. "You need to leave right this minute," and his response would be, "Don't touch me, you evil witch. I know about you and I have proof." He then pushed me so hard that I slammed into the stairs and then I began to shout back, "Get out of my house." I screamed, "Just get out!" I warned him that if he didn't leave, I would have to call the police. I pushed against his chest and he finally began to back up.

He turned and began making his way to the front door. He was still shouting and being extremely verbally abusive but I was focused on getting him on the other side of the door. He pulled the door open with such force that it marked the inside wall but that mattered not. I just needed him to be gone.

As he stepped out onto the doorstep, he turned for the final time and shouted, "I'm calling the Police on you. I'm calling you Police on you," while laughing and jeering, and continuing to be completely menacing and psychotic. I was shaking, in shock and extremely upset, so much so that I couldn't catch my breath.

Enraged, I slammed the door behind him, secured it, and the tears began to fall uncontrollably down both cheeks... “I am so fucking tired of this...” If only I had known what was to come!