Caring For A Suffering Soul

October 1, 1995
CARING FOR A SUFFERING SOUL

For the past three weeks, I have lived the life of a serial killer and felt the madness that filled his world. I usually do not wait so long to write down new discoveries about myself. Perhaps, this time I am afraid of my abilities, or afraid that my mother will find out what I've done, or rather, what I had been asked to do. I've been pushed to put this on paper so that I can understand what has happened. I'm only twelve years old and have seen things people seven times my age would never want to see in their lifetimes. Through all of my confusion, however, I now understand that love, or the lack there of, can lead people to do the most unbelievable things.

All of the chaos stirring in my mind started long before these last three weeks, but I never anticipated it peaking so soon. Dr. Raymond Bless had been helping me control my emotions so I wouldn't lose control of the gifts God had granted me at a very young age. My control had improved greatly over a short amount of time with the techniques he had showed me. Without the control over my emotions, the combination of my telekinesis and telepathic power would be lethal to anyone who irritated me. I'm a child, but I have been locked into an adult world because of these abilities. Although my gifts remain a secret that very few people know about, I can't be as careless and selfish as the average child. Dr. Bless had worked with me without a dime coming out of my mother's pocket. He had become my second father when my true father had run out on me. He had promised me that he would help me understand how much power I possessed over people, and how I could use it to help, instead of harm.

When I revealed to him, two years ago that I could easily diagnose his patients and treat them without mind-altering drugs, he waited for the opportunity to use this ability to its fullest. Getting into people's minds, feeling around, and fixing what had caused it to react abnormally, was child's play. God told me that I had the ability to make a significant difference in people's lives. For once in my life, I understood why I had been given such power. My mother, though, was very concerned about the dangerous path of discovery that Dr. Bless was leading me down.

A few weeks ago, when these violent nightmares, of which I thought to be the mixed memories of his patients, woke me up each night, shaking and shivering from a cold sweat, I started to share her concern. Not even Dr. Bless could understand why I would call him in the middle of the night, screaming and crying. He told me that I had not worked with any violent patients and didn't know why I would be having such dreams.

Out of curiosity, Dr. Bless started following the murder trial of Michael Thorton, who had killed a total of four women and one ten-year-old girl in Michigan, and disposed of the bodies in local dumpsters. He had eluded the police for over two years. I saw the images of many news broadcasts and articles, depicting the story through several different lenses, race through Dr. Bless's mind. As I realized how similar the stories of his killings were to my nightmares, I realized that our very different worlds would soon collide. Psychiatrists found him to be insane, and the jury decided that he be placed in a high security mental institution for treatment. Several doctors had testified that he suffered from Multiple Personality Disorder, and had no control of his actions at the times of the killings.

Dr. Bless approached me with the proposition that I had been fearing all along. A cold spasm flowed through my body when I heard the rumbling voice of God telling me to help Michael. I understand Dr. Bless's many reasons for wanting to help him, but I didn't understand why God would want me to help him. God knew I would never disobey a direct order from Him. I felt that there must be a lesson I need to learn from Michael.

Dr. Bless wanted me to meet him before we proceeded with any kind of treatment. He said that Michael's cousin, the only person claming to know him, was willing to pay any price to get him back to the way she knew him many years ago.

Meeting Michael was a terrifying and heart-wrenching experience. After Dr. Bless tap danced around the rules of not letting minors inside the hospital with some very colorful lies, which he pleaded with me to let him tell, we approached the glass that shielded us from possible physical contact. As he slept peacefully, an attractive young woman, with golden blonde hair and soft hazel eyes, magnified by thick layers of glass, stood staring into his room with tears flowing down her cheeks. She shook with a jolt as Dr. Bless greeted her by offering a white handkerchief and introducing himself.

As she finished wiping away her tears, she looked down at me. "This is no place for a child," she said, her voice trembling with the rest of her body.

"You have no need to worry about her. Robyn is no child. You'll see," he reassured her.

As I wandered through the corridors of her mind, my lips quivered and my breathing grew heavy, due to diving deeper into the lies that she had weaved tightly around her heart about Michael. At our first moment of eye contact, however, I had realized that this woman, who called herself Diane Griffith, was not his cousin. Her undying love for him was something she had denied for many years. Their secret love had been mutual for only a short time. Success and the promise of great wealth drew her away from this pitiful man, who had been dragging her reputation into the gutter. The deep sorrow welled up inside my heart and stomach as I saw an abandoned newborn wiggling around in a half-empty dumpster. Her piercing shrieks, due to the protruding metal debris cutting into her skin, tore into my ears and echoed its terror thoughout my mind. My blood burned with each new cut. She was abandoned by love before she could even remember. She sat down in the chair across the hallway as her legs grew weak with the exhausting effort it took to try and evade my probing mind. I finally unlocked my eyes from hers, and she breathed out her relief.

My attention turned to the glass shield behind me, as Dr. Bless explained that he couldn't tell her about his idea of helping Michael, or ease her anxiety about what I had just done to her, in mixed company. Michael sat up in his bed and stared at me. His mousy brown hair sprouted straight up and out every which way, and his muscular build was made light of by his pale white skin. His somber gray eyes invited me inside his mind, until I reached the first steel door that I had to break down. My original fear was, then, replaced with the stinging sadness of his surfaced memories of a painful childhood, which drove me to tears. He approached the glass as Dr. Bless and Diane stopped their conversation to see what had upset me. Dr. Bless walked toward me to comfort me, but I warned him to stay back. I continued to stare into Michael's watering eyes. I placed my hand upon the glass. He placed his hand on the glass as if to touch mine. All the sudden, his facial expression changed, and he pounded on the glass in anger. I witnessed the hidden memory and felt the overwhelming anguish of his mother slicing his skin with a sharp blade several times, while letting out shrill bits of laughter. A surge of adrenaline from my pounding heart struck my mind and pushed through my eyes into his mind. His face relaxed, and he collapsed as two muscle-bound orderlies entered his room from the other side. Dr. Bless grabbed me up in his arms, told Diane to come with him, and ran swiftly out of the hospital.

By the time we arrived at Dr. Bless's private clinic, my mind was at peace again. I was ready to answer any question hurled my way. Dr. Bless took me aside for a few minutes to speak with me privately. "Do you think you can help him?" he asked me.

"I know I can," I replied. I whole-heartedly wanted to take on this challenge. I could feel the ever-courageous curiosity eating away at my nerves. "Give me three weeks."

"Robyn, honey, this could take years."

"Give me three weeks," I repeated. "I want his mind free from the drugs the hospital has given him. His mind has to be free of anything that would cloud his thoughts."

He asked me how I was going to pull this off. He knew there had to be a high degree of secrecy regarding the specifics of the experiment. He knew that he would be left in the dark as to how I would treat Michael because of his inability to see beyond the physical eye.

Both Dr. Bless and I assured Diane that I could help him, but wouldn't do so unless she signed a statement of understanding and a vow to secrecy on all matters dealing with the experiment. After having felt the power of my probing mind, she held no arguments and signed immediately.

Dr. Bless used his connections at the university to start the ball rolling, while Diane used her money and influence to have Michael transferred there. The outline of the experiment that Dr. Bless presented to the university was somewhat truthful, in that we were conducting a study of the power of hypnosis. Of course, he didn't mention that a twelve-year-old girl was playing psychiatrist. His license to practice medicine would have been shredded, had he mentioned one word of that. The psychology department ate up the idea of curing someone thought to be incurable. Every meticulous detail was set, even the route the university would take to place Michael back into society if this far-fetched idea worked. Dr. Bless's faith in me warmed my heart and strengthened my confidence, but my mind was still too rattled by the images in Michael's head to thank him for gambling his career to suit my crazy plan to help a homicidial maniac.

In a matter of two days, it was time for me to start the experiment. Dr. Bless rolled me into the observation room, hidden in a large wooden box. Neither the pitch-black darkness, nor the musty stench of the box, irritated me. My senses were nearly deadened by my sole concentration on fixing Michael's warped mind.

I went into his room, beyond the huge observation window, alone. I looked heavenward and received assurance that I could do this. I didn't bother to look back into the false black wall that only Dr. Bless stood behind, watching. Michael stared at me from his hospital bed with a gentle, but suffering expression across his face. Just as I had demanded, there were no restraints on his arms or legs. There was nothing holding him back from the free expression of his emotions.

I sat in a small, white plastic chair as I made my first examination of his thoughts. The image of his mother with the blade raced to the forefront of his mind without much pushing. He stood up and rushed toward me. His eyes were stern and his anger burned my heart. He started to yell, but I switched off his voice box. Speaking would only break my concentration.

I could feel and get a whiff of his smoldering, foul-smelling breath against my face. I heard the door handle jiggle uncontrollably against my power to keep it locked as Michael fell to his knees, with his eyes just a few inches from mine. One part of my mind kept a physical hold on him while the other wrestled deeper into his mind, breaking through locked doors he never wanted opened. I motioned toward the glass with a raised arm to tell Dr. Bless that all was well with us, and the door handle laid silent again.

I saw fire consuming a house and heard a blood-curdling scream that matched the tone of his mother's voice. A joyous surge struck my body. His breathing grew deep and heavy, as did mine. He gave up the fight of holding himself up with the muscles in his legs, and sat down on the cold marble floor, his eyes still glued to mine. Breaking through another secured door, I watched and endured the humiliation as his older sister and her girlfriend mercilessly molested him. My breath quickened as I fought back tears of anger.

I leapt over a dark canyon in his mind and wandered into a bright white light. I watched through a metal lattice fence as a father was teaching his son how to play football. The small boy taunted me and told me I couldn't stay there because I had no father with me. The boy's father shrugged his shoulders as the boy called me a "Mama's boy."

Then, the ground disappeared from beneath me, and I plummeted into the darkness. The only distant light I saw held memories of Diane. Her gentle voice echoed in the hollow cavern: "Why can't you let me hold you? I care for you, and you push me away."

A bloody hand pushed me further into the cold, murky emptiness. All of the sudden, everything turned to red. I had to fight the autistic tendency to shut my eyes to the searing painful glare.

The stench of blood and garbage made my stomach tumble. I saw a razor-sharp knife slash back and forth in front of my eyes. A pleasurable sensation, unknown to me, raptured my mind and erupted through my pores with bundles of tingling ecstacy, my body shaking it away. The knife proceeded to stab into the bloody mess of human flesh that had long ago lost its voice and soul. The image of each woman's face froze itself into my conscience, all of them bearing a likeness to his mother. The giggling little girl fell silent at the sight of her mother's mutilated body. The knife rose once more, violently slicing away at the fear of her innocent eyes, then disappeared.

I broke my mental lock on Michael, stood up, and walked out of the room. Looking back through the glass, I watched him slowly climb into bed and shiver underneath the thick wool blankets.

Dr. Bless placed his hand on my shoulder, and I turned around to face him. The soft light of his mind nearly blinded me. "In the next session, I need to feed everything I saw back to him and block off his warping subconscioius mind."

He begged me to tell him what I saw, but my lips were sealed. My mind was intimate with Michael's tortured soul, and I would never share his pain with someone who would never understand.

The next week was very traumatic for Michael. I flashed his entire life before his eyes. I could feel his subconscious mind trying to drag me in, but I continued pushing every painful memory to the forefront. He pursed his lips and sipped in the stale air as tears streamed down his cheeks and onto his hospital gown. The tension was building in his mind. I stretched his conscious mind with his hidden memories until it surrendered. He cupped his hands over his eyes and let out a muffled scream.

He threw his blankets and bedding across the room with great force as I left the room. His wild eyes stared into the dark far wall, searching for mine. I caught his eyes in mine and he ran at me. He yelled, "Why don't you just go ahead and kill me, little girl! I know you want to!"

His false judgment of me made me stretch his mind to the breaking point with the loving image of Diane. Michael collapsed, both mentally and physically. I told Dr. Bless to restrain him so that he wouldn't be able to act on any suicidal tendencies.

One week later, as I entered the room for the third, and final, session, Michael was screaming in terror and struggling against the restraints. I immediately brought forth his delightful memories of Diane and her words of love that had echoed in my dreams, as well as in his head. I showed him that I understood his pain and wanted to help him. I poured my heart into his mind and let him feel my love, God's love. I showed him my longing to find love that shines through the darkest spots of hopelessness, like the love he had for Diane. I showed him that the greatest love I know, the Lord, loved him too. I removed the restraints that had left deep, red indentations in his wrists and ankles. He sat up on the bed, and I hopped up to sit next to him. I placed my hand on his. His skin was cold and clammy from shock, but his eyes were warm and inviting. I unscrambled the confusion in his mind by sharing the strength of mind that God had blessed me with.

After this session, I had no doubts about his sanity. The first time the collected self of Michael saw Diane, he embraced her and told her he never wanted to let go. The university did its part, after monitoring him for a few weeks. They were set up with different identities, physically altered with some minor cosmetic surgery, and sent to a place where his former name was never uttered.

Michael never wanted to see me again, for fear that it might force him to separate back into his old horrid identities. I don't know if I'll ever hear from him again. I don't know if I'll ever get to tell him how much he taught me about life and the gravity of love.

After this, Dr. Bless was labeled a "miracle worker." His love and admiration for me had filled to overflowing. He was frightened by my power, but warmed by my genorosity to use it to help the helpless. However, his fatherly love was turning into a different type of affection, of which we were both terrified.

In all, I don't know if I'll ever understand why love consumes the mind the way it does. Love is something that shouldn't be calculated. I've seen that that is a very dangerous thing to do, but I'm already guilty of it as I think back on my terrible feelings toward my father.

All I know is that God has loved me and has shown me how to use the power He had placed in my mind. During the last three weeks, He has showed me how to used the power He had placed in my heart. If it wouldn't have been for Him telling me that I must help this maniac, I would have never came near him, alone look into his eyes and see his pain. God wanted me to see that my mind was a very powerful tool, but that my heart was the guiding force to push me past my fear. From the very first time I looked into Michael's eyes, I didn't see the serial killer that everyone feared and shunned. My heart had opened up and shared the agony of one of God's children who had been abused by the people he loved, over and over again. I had seen a man in great pain, who was screaming for someone to understand and help him. Before Michael, I didn't ever think that I could care about someone like him, but God proved me wrong.



For more on Robyn, please read "Invalid Item"  and "New York City Calling" . For the upcoming novel, please read "Invalid Item" .