The Misunderstanding
I woke up in a jail cell. My heart began to pound as I looked around, wondering how I got here. I turned my head and saw my sister rush over to the door.
"Oh my god, Samara. I'm so glad you're awake," she told me, smiling with tears in her eyes.
"Mara, what am I doing here?" I asked. She was about to tell me when an officer walked over and unlocked the door. He told us to follow him as he made his way down the hall and into a room. Mara and I sat down at a table across from him. He pulled out a notepad, a pen, and a recorder, sitting them in front of him on the table.
"This is officer Watkins, interviewing Samara and Mara Wilson. The date is July 15, 2016. Samara, do you know why you are here?" he asked, looking up at me over his glasses. I shook my head. "Speak for the recorder."
"No"
"Last night, I received a distress call from your sister, Mara. She told us that you were being harassed by a young man by the name of," he looked down at his pad, "Stephen. Is that correct?"
"Yes"
He went on to ask me the details of our relationship, taking notes here and there. He asked for a description and if I knew his address. When I told him that I had no clue where he lived, he made a note and said they would be able to look him up. He then asked me about what happened last night.
"I was home, writing, and he was banging on the door." I went on to tell him about how he picked the lock and turned my alarm off. I mentioned how he found me and tackled me when I tried to run. Officer Watkins and Mara exchanged glances.
"Around what time did this occur?" When I told officer Watkins the time, he put his pen down. "Ma'am, I don't think that is correct. We were at your house at that time."
"It was at that time. Stephen tackled me, then I blacked out," I continued, looking between him and Mara.
Officer Watkins took off his glasses, "Samara, I and a few other people entered your home about the time you say Stephen broke in. Is it possible that you only thought he was there?"
"He was there! He turned off the code!"
"Samara, I turned off the code," Mara told me with a furrowed brow. "We knocked on the door. You never came so, I unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. We found you hiding under a table. When Officer Watkins offered to help you out, you started kicking and screaming. They tried to hold you down so you wouldn't injure anyone, then you passed out," She explained.
I shook my head that couldn't be right. Stephen was there. I know he was. I could hear his voice, feel him restraining me. This must be a mistake.
I tried to explain this to them but officer Watkins just shook his head and agreed with Mara. I shook my head. He was there but no one believed me.
"Well, nonetheless, we will look him up and let you know what we come up with. In the meantime, we want you to see a psychologist" He stood, handed me a card, and left the room.
I turned to face Mara, "you believe me don't you?"
"I was there last night, Samara. I told you I would call the police if you stopped messaging me. I got worried. You really don't remember me being there?"
I stared at the card, hoping I wasn't going crazy, "no."
A few days had passed. I was scheduled to have my first appointment with my psychologist. Her name was Doctor Warren. She was the best in her field, or at least that's what Mara said.
I hadn't seen Stephen in the past few days but I chalked it up to Mara staying with me as the cause for him staying away. My boss was also upset since I still had not finished the edits that she claimed were causing her to "rip her hair out." She left me countless emails and voice messages each day, each angrier after every unanswered phone call. I hadn't written since the last time I saw Stephen. I was in no condition to do so right now. She could wait.
I slowly walked up to the receptionist's desk and gave her my name. She told me to have a seat, that Doctor Warren would be with me in a second. I nodded and sat in an oddly comfortable chair as I looked around. Countless mental health posters were hanging on the walls promoting ideas of living a normal life despite whatever.
Had it really come to this? Was I now one of those women who lost their minds? And over a guy at that? I exhaled deeply, silently loathing myself for my ignorance. There were so many signs, so many red flags. Why didn't I pay attention to them?
"Samara? You can go on back," the receptionist told me, motioning toward the double doors. I stood and made my way down the cold hallway. I took a deep breath and walked into Doctor Warren's office.
I sat on an oddly comfortable couch across from Doctor Warren. In the past hour that I have been here, we discussed everything from my childhood to when I met Stephen. I was nervous, evident by the perspiration on my hands. I sat on them and looked up at her as she wrote something down.
"Do you love Stephen?" she asked quietly. I nodded. Love was not something you could turn off, even if that person turned out to be crazy. "So how are you handling all of this?"
"I do not know," I told her honestly. My mind was all over the place and despite what Mara and officer Watkins said, I could not believe that he was not real. I went on to tell her how sweet he was and how much I liked spending time with him despite his odd quirks. She nodded every so often as her pen flew across her paper. I told her about all the red flags and signs that were there that I chose to ignore.
"If you knew they were there, then why ignore them?"
"I guess I wanted to see the good and ignore the bad. I thought maybe because of Stephen's situation with his parents, was why he was so weird. I don't know." I sunk lower into the couch, hoping to be sucked into the cushions so I could disappear.
"What do you think would have happened if you chose not to ignore them?"
"I wouldn't be here for one. I wouldn't be paranoid about Stephen popping up every second. My sister wouldn't think I was crazy," I told her. I wanted to go home but this lady wasn't going to let me go until we got to the bottom of the situation.
"Why do they think you are crazy?"
"I saw him and felt him attacking me. When I woke up, they told me it was them trying to help me," I explained. Doctor Warren stood up and walked behind her desk, pulling out a manila folder. She walked back to her seat and sat down.
"Officer Watkins has finished the search for Stephen and asked me to look over it with you." She flipped open the folder and took out the first paper. "When we researched Stephen by the last name you'd given us, we found that there is no one in this city or state for that matter that meets that description."
My heart sank. Did Stephen lie about his name too? What was going on?
"When we tried a facial recognition software, we did come up with something," she continued reading, "his face did have a match. That man is now well into his 70s." She looked at me, putting the paper on the table beside her.
"Oh my god, I am crazy," I realized. I shook my head as I began to cry. She handed me a tissue.
"It is safe to say that Stephen does not exist, Samara. Now, when you were talking, I heard some recurring themes that may be the root of your problem."
"Yes." She held up her folder so she could read, "I have made contact with your sister and asked her about your writing habits. She says that is pretty much all you do, is that correct?"
"Yes, it's my job."
"So, I did some digging and managed to get your manuscript from your laptop, courtesy of Mara. I read it."
"And?"
"Mara, Stephen is a character in your book. The main love interest. Did you not notice that?"
"The main character's name is Matthew," I told her defensively.
"Yes, but your character's last name is Stephens, Matthew Stephens. You told police that Stephen's last name was Matthews. Stephen Matthews is the exact opposite." I dropped my head into my hands. Oh my god.
"Upon further reading of your manuscript, I noticed similar patterns in your own life that you wrote. Everything from the way he introduced himself to you to the way he attacked you was all the opposite in there. He introduced himself at your house but in the story, the girl introduces herself at his house. They never go into each other's houses, choosing to date elsewhere. There are no red flags or warnings. At the end of the story, they even ended up together."
"That can't be right." She handed me the folder. As I skimmed through, I realized she was right. "Oh my god."
"It appears that you have created Stephen. I recall you telling me that you used to write mystery/murder books. I believe that your subconscious added that background to the information in your book and created what you knew as Stephen."
"He only ever appeared when you were writing. That is why when your friend came over, she could not meet him. That is why you guys never went on an actual date. The combination of your constant solidarity and instinctive desire to be social contributed to this. Now, in my professional history, I have never had this happen with a writer so I am unsure how to diagnose you."
"So I have gone crazy?"
"In a sense of the word, yes. However, you can regain some level of control over it. You have to stop writing," Doctor Warren suggested.
My eyes bulged out of my head, "stop writing? I can't just stop writing. It's my job."
We began to discuss different alternatives that involved me giving up the only thing I loved doing in this world. When I explained that this never happened before I started writing romance. Doctor Warren agreed to allow me to continue writing. The only condition was that I don't write romance. Afterward, we talked more and she gave me tips on being more social and getting out of the house more. She gave me a list of coping mechanisms and told me to schedule my next appointment before leaving. I was grateful that in the end, I could keep writing. My boss, however, was going to be pissed.
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