Psych

Fireworks. Fireworks? Yes, that is what it sounded like. Fireworks. The sound was ear-splitting. Like a knife in the ear. Except, these were not fireworks. The Iver Johnson Revolver had finally served its purpose. Breechwood was one of the most serene neighbourhoods in the city. There had been no murder or suicide for the past thirty-eight years. Until now. The Murphy family was known to be one of the most peaceful families, so what had triggered this unforeseen calamity? It was like discovering a gun in the holiest church you could think of.

With tears in his eyes, Sineas Murphy, the only child in the Murphy family, stood a few feet from the fresh corpse of his father. The blood flowing smoothly from the right side of his father's head and the revolver still clasped loosely in his right hand. Sineas could not stop whimpering. This was too vexing a sight to register for a six year old. The blood though was too hard to see as it dripped onto the red carpet. The carpet was an abyss, drinking each drop granted it. From the carpet to the furniture in the room was just pure innocence. His father's head was on a glass table about knee high, his knees planted on the floor. He was bent over by the foot of a black couch. The only couch in the room. A small television set a few feet to Sineas' left was probably the only source of entertainment in the house. No decorations on the wall. The room could have served best as a storage room. Just behind Sineas was the entrance to the kitchen, beside it- the wooden door which led outside. Inside the glass ashtray lying beside his father's head, a cigarette was slowly dying, smoke leisurely spiraling from its lit end as if mourning its owner's death. Sineas was not the only one frozen in that moment. The air was tranquil, as if this event had shocked it to a standstill. Not a single sound could be heard for miles. Not even the harmless sound of an annoying dog barking. At least a sign of life, but there was none. Just the chilling silence.

Sineas wiped his left cheek free of an overflowing current of tears as he approached his father's lifeless body. His young eyes danced between the gun and the obtrusive gash in his father's head. The tears ran on down his face. He fell down onto his knees and reached for his father's hand, the one that held the pistol. He poked one of his fingers, the same that held the gun. He looked into his wide open eyes. 'Games, papa...games...'

'Abraham! Abe! Abe!' Sineas' mother barged through the door only to find Abraham, her boyfriend, dead on the floor and her son, Sineas kneeling before his corpse. She was still in her doctor's uniform: a white lab coat over a white blouse and a short, black skirt that ended just above her knees. She had a short afro, which was a typical hairstyle for most of the black people in Breechwood. She had a certain sagging below her eyes which blamed nightshifts, a slightly light skin tone pointed to a genetic trait; Something she must have passed on to Sineas. She worked at one of the local hospitals.

'Abe!' she yelled once more as she ran towards him.

'That won't work,' Sineas told her when she tried shaking him back to life.

She stared into Sineas' eyes. The tears were now drying on his cheeks. 'Oh, Sin!' She cupped her hands over her mouth before embracing him tightly. 'Oh, Sin, my son I am so sorry! It's okay. Papa is just sleeping.' She grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer to his father. 'Look! See? Say, "hello, papa".'

'...Hello, papa.' He only obeyed but he looked more confused than ever.

She laughed and she squeezed on his wrist and pulled him closer. 'Say it louder or else papa won't hear you.'

'Hello, papa,' he whispered again.

Without warning, she struck his mouth hard with the back of her hand. 'I said, say it louder!' Her face had changed from gentle to murderous in just a split-second.

He began to weep again. 'Mama, that hurt.'

'Oh, it did, did it?!' In a flash, she got up and grabbed him by the hair and began pulling it, using it as a handle to lift him off the ground. 'I said say, "hello, papa"!' she ordered him.

The child's screams were deafening. 'Hello, papa!!!' he wailed. His screams muffled his words.

She threw him onto the couch behind his father like an empty grocery bag. She pulled the thick leather belt from her boyfriends waist. 'Do you want me to use this?!' she said as she waved the weapon in his direction.

He shook his head profusely and retreated into the corner of the couch using his tiny hands.

She roared angrily as she stared at him. Her eyes were blood-red. A nasty colour. Either from anger or grief it was hard to tell for a six year old. '...Then say, "hello, papa"...much, much louder.'

He drew his knees to his chin in deep fear. He looked once at his father and then her. He whispered, 'Hello... papa.'

She advanced towards him.

Someone suddenly barged through the door. 'Priscilla!' It was her sister, Janice. She pushed her to the ground then she snatched the belt from her hand. She immediately rushed to her nephew's aid. She was in her red velvet blouse and black jeans. Her hair was in braids. Quite an innocent look if not for her hardened face. She had a rather short nose and perky lips which would scare away any would-be rapists.

Sineas was trembling in fear, his skinny arms still wrapped around his knees.

Janice protectively draped her arm around him. 'Priscilla, what has gotten into you? This is your son!'

She now had her back against the foot of the couch, sitting right beside her boyfriend. She was weeping uncontrollably. Her cries were in gasps. She was fatigued. She could not answer with a word but only streams of tears flowing down both her cheeks.

'Priscilla, your son is watching. You should be strong...for him.' Janice had not even once looked at Abraham's corpse.

She laid her head back as she continued to cry. 'I don't have a son.'

'Priscilla!'

She sniffled. 'Papa...Papa...Papa...' she said then she stopped crying. She slowly swerved her head. Her eyes settled on Sineas. She leapt from her position towards him, her eyes speaking murderous intent.

Janice was ready for her though. Stepping in front of her sister, she grabbed her arms from the front. Although being the younger and smaller sister, she was able to keep her at bay. Priscilla's grief had obviously weakened her.

She raved all the more, looking over Janice's shoulder, 'Say, "hello, papa! Hello, papa"! Say it! Say, "hello, papa!" ' After a while of struggle, her body finally gave in. she collapsed into Janice's chest, her body motionless.

'Is that all the information you have, ma'am?'

Janice had finally called the police who had arrived with the medic team as well. The police officer questioning her was in his uniform. A blue jacket, blue trousers and black formal shoes. The two medals pinned on the left pocket of his grey shirt suggested that he had attained a respectable rank over the years. His deputy was standing just beside the television set. Janice thought he was a rookie. The way he kept his eyes glued at them indicated that he was absorbing everything taking place. The senior officer was finding it hard to conceal his shock whilst he scribbled into the small notebook in his hand. At every second he would steal a glimpse of Abraham's corpse as two heavily built male nurses carried it through the door on a stretcher. His twitching black moustache obviously betrayed that he was repeating Janice's words as he wrote them down. She thought he was too young to be a police officer of such authority. He was too good-looking for such a position.

'Yes. Yes, I think that is all, sir,' she finally replied to the question, gently stroking Sineas' shoulder. He was standing ever closer to her.

'Where is my son? Let me go, I want my baby!' Priscilla had finally woken up but after what Janice had told the police, upon re-gaining consciousness, two nurses- a male and female - put leather restraints on her. 'I want my son! Baby! Baby!' she cried out to him. 'Baby, please come to mama!'

He tried to walk towards her but Janice pulled him back. 'No, Sin.'

'Give me my son, Janice! You whore! You slut! Witch! Give me my son!'

Janice strengthened her grip on Sineas' shoulder. 'It's okay, my boy. Everything will be fine from now on,' she reassured him amidst her sister's demanding cries as they carried her out of the house.

'How long has she been like this?'

Janice and Sineas had been brought into the police station by the senior officer and they watched through the two-way mirror at Priscilla sitting at a table across a man wearing a lab coat. They had come to learn that the senior officer's name was Charles. He was an Inspector. 'Ever since we were kids,' she answered him. She pulled in Sineas much closer to her side. 'Any traumatizing ordeal like the death of our parents is enough to take anyone's sanity away,' she added. 'I think the car accident must have triggered something inside her. Certain...moods.'

'Moods?'

'A certain kind of anger. A rage...makes her hate everything around her. Sometimes.'

'I know about your parents' accident,' said Inspector Charles. 'They called it the "Murphy" case. The lead detective said it wasn't clear whether it was an accident or...'

'Since it's unsolved, let's call it what it is; an accident,' Janice said.

He shrugged. 'Any guess as to what her "condition" might be?'

She shrugged too. 'Could be anything.' Her face turned serious.

Priscilla looked glum. The skin below her eyes was now sagging lower. Her hair was greatly unkempt. It looked like two birds of prey had attempted to build a nest in it but gave up before completion. She was in a straitjacket, her face staring blankly into the table like she had been drugged. The table was the only furniture in the room. Opposite her sat Doctor Darren Jacob. Just like the Murphys, he was also of African descent. Black people were the majority race in the small neighbourhood of Breechwood. Doctor Jacob was bald, which actually made him look a lot younger than he was. The conspicuous pimples on his face betrayed a man who was obsessed with shaving off his facial hair. Besides his lab coat, the only thing visible were his black slacks and brown farmer shoes. He shuffled the small stack of papers on the table before him.

He said, 'Now, Priscilla; let's start at the very beginning. Is there anything your son may have done or said that made you act like that towards him?'

She persisted in her silence.

'O-kay, allow me to re-phrase the question. Why did you hurt Sineas?'

More silence.

He sighed. 'Priscilla, I'm trying my best to...'

'I want to see him,' she mumbled with her eyes still staring blankly into the table.

'Pardon?'

'I said I want to see my son, Doctor Jacob.' She raised her eyes towards him. They did not betray any expression.

'I'm afraid with the condition you're in, that may be a little difficult to achieve, Priscilla.'

'Doctor Jacob, I want my son now!' she banged her knees beneath the table.

He slightly jumped, almost from his seat, startled. He nervously adjusted his tie. He turned his eyes to the door, the only exit, as if ready to leap for it if she made an attempt to attack him. 'Priscilla, even if we were to allow you to see him, there is no guarantee that you won't lash out as before.'

She leaned in closer towards him from across the table. 'But I've changed...I've changed. Can't you tell by my sexy smile?' She attempted what almost looked like a grin at him. It shook as if ready to mutate into something else.

'Priscilla, I think you should sit down.' The advice sounded more like a warning.

'Psssht!' She scowled then sat back down. The impact of her buttocks striking the steel chair produced a thud. She turned her attention to the two-way mirror. Of course, all she could see was her own reflection. But it looked as if she could see right through it. 'I won't let her have my son,' she muttered.

'What?'

'Doctor Jacob, please!' she pleaded. 'Let me see my son before I go to jail.'

'You're not going to jail, Priscilla.'

She frowned hard at him in confusion. 'Then why am I here?'

'Let's...' he shuffled the small stack of papers in front of him, '...let's call it an intervention...'

'No, let's call it a waste of time. You want to find out if I'm fit to take care of my son. I've been taking care of him for six years!'

'And it's possible that during those six years he may have gone through similar forms of maltreatment as the ones you displayed this morning towards him.'

'I have never harmed my son..! Before,' she aggressively objected leaning even closer than before.

'You have quite a volatile temper, Mrs. Murphy, that part is clear. Your temper would not have been a problem but the fact that that temper manifested into violence towards your one and only child; a six year old...'

She began to weep, her face now turned hopelessly to the floor. 'I just want to see my son...my son...'

Doctor Jacob sighed and began arranging his papers. He shook his head whilst facing the two-way mirror. He stood up and headed for the door, leaving her weeping, her pitch growing higher and higher at each step he took.

'What's going to happen to her?' Sineas asked his aunt as they watched her sobbing through the glass. He sounded greatly distraught.

'It's okay, Sin my boy,' his aunt said. 'Your mama will be fine. She'll be fine, she's very strong.'

A tear rolled down his cheek. 'And...what about papa?'

She looked down at him and tilted his face towards her using her fingers. 'Remember what happened to grandpapa and grandmamma two years ago?' she smiled at him.

'Accident?'

She nodded, then wiped the tear from his eye.

*

The environment looked familiar to Sineas when he stepped out of the taxicab. His aunt, Janice, stepped out from the front passenger seat. Before his eyes was the largest building he had ever seen. It looked similar to the American White House he had seen on TV. The building had countless windows and massive pillars at its sides. It was surrounded by a tall fence secured with thick barbed wire. Just in front of the building was a lawn witch stretched up to the main gate. A black pickup truck parked by the main gate of the building a few seconds later. His aunt placed her hand on his shoulder. She was wearing a blue tracksuit, one of her many running outfits and on her feet were white sneakers. She turned her face downwards. 'Baby, be strong, okay?'

His attention was still on the truck as two male nurses stepped out of it, one from the driver's seat and the other from the front passenger seat.

'Be strong, okay?' she said again.

He nodded slowly but he clearly did not know why. Finally, the two nurses retrieved his mother from the back seat. Both of them held her tightly by the arms, one on the left and the other on the right. She was in her straitjacket. Her hair, just as it was yesterday, was wildly unkempt. The nurses began to walk her towards the main gate of the giant building.

She turned around and saw him. 'Sin! Sineas! Sineas!' She tried to fight off her captors.

'It's okay,' said Janice when she saw a sorrowful look develop on Sineas' face. She nodded at him once.

He responded likewise but his expression looked forced. Anxious.

She clasped his hand tightly in hers and began their walk towards the main gate.

Priscilla fell to her knees. Since she was tightly secured in her straitjacket, the most intimate response to her son's hug was to place her chin on his shoulder. 'Oh, baby, baby, baby! I'm so sorry.'

'Mama, where are you going?'

Her tears flowed freely down her cheeks. 'Mama needs to take a vacation, my boy.'

'Let me come with you. I'll be good this time, I promise.'

She managed a brief laugh. 'You've always been good to me, my boy.' She cast a lightning glance at her sister who was standing protectively beside Sineas. She finally drew her face from his shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes. 'Listen, Sin. Now, you go with Aunt Janice okay?'

'But I want to go with you, mama!' he said beginning to weep.

'I wish that were possible too, my boy, but right now you have to go with Aunt Janice, okay? Aunty will take care of you.'

He hugged her once more before her captors picked her up from the pavement and began walking her through the gate.

She turned around after every ten steps to smile at him. As soon as they walked her through the doors of the building, he buried his face into his aunt's stomach and began crying even louder.

'Its okay, my boy, its okay. Mama will be okay,' said Janice whilst gently stroking his back.

Janice's house looked quite humble. There was nothing of possible breath-taking value Sineas could note. When he walked through the door he noticed the living room which was straight ahead. There was one couch big enough for three placed just before a small television set. Just behind the couch about ten paces ahead were the stairs. To the left of the house's entrance was the kitchen. There was not much to note here either. One table, a sink and some cupboards just above the sink. The last cupboard had a missing door which made Sineas think the house was probably older than time itself. These were the only rooms he could see downstairs.

Janice gave him a pat on the back. 'Go take a shower and get ready for dinner, okay, my boy?'

He nodded twice, forcing a smile. He picked up his bag; a small, green suitcase. They had taken a short detour to get his clothes from his house. His house was a three-minute drive from Aunt Janice's. This was his new house now.

She smiled and left for the kitchen, leaving him to make his way up the stairs. He returned his smile and looked up the staircase. He had only been in Aunt Janice's house two years ago when he was only four, but only a few things looked familiar to him.

There were only three rooms he could see along the passage upstairs. The bathroom, first door on the left and after it was the room in which he had slept in when he last visited her. To the right was the room in which she slept in. the walls were heavily laden with cracks and they were slowly losing their white colour to a creamy one. He dropped his bags by the door of the room he had slept in before, assuming this was where he was to sleep.

The interior of the bathroom was pathetic. It seemed Janice was having quite a difficult time maintaining the house. There was a shower to the far right corner of the room. The chequered tiles of the floor had also developed deep crevices. The window was wide open and it was draped with brown cobwebs. Just beside the shower was the towel rack. When he pulled open the half-torn shower curtains he noted more cobwebs etched in one of the corners of the wall. He turned the valve. At least the water was warm. He undressed and stepped in. The water felt so refreshing as it splashed onto his body and made its way down to the floor. He just ignored the disturbing sight of the cobwebs and cracks in the wall and thoroughly scrubbed his body. It was as though the disgusting sight was encouraging him to scrub even harder.

He had not yet cleaned half his body when he heard something hit the floor from behind the shower curtain. It sounded like a bottle of lotion. 'Hello? Aunt Janice, is that you?'