The Thing

 

It's growing inside me. I can feel it moving about. When I explained this to Dr Harris, he looked from me to his computer screen and back. Playing for time, I thought. Most likely, he was wondering how to direct me to talking therapy without appearing to belittle what I said. I decided to make it easy for him.
'You think I need to see a shrink,' I said.
'I wouldn't put it like that,' he said. 'I'm not saying it's all in your head, but I do think we need to examine the situation from all angles. Talking to someone might be a good first step.'
'And then?'
'If it seems like there may be a physical problem, we can refer you to a specialist.'
A specialist in what? I wondered. I sighed. I probably sounded impatient. I didn't mean to.
'You're probably right,' I said. 'I'm just worried about how long it'll take. The whole process, you know – ' At this point my body jerked, the way bodies do when they're falling asleep, only I was wide awake. It happened a lot. I could feel whatever it was moving about, pushing its way between my right lung and my ribcage. It'd just caught a nerve or, at least, that's how I explained it to myself. I never got to see it, but I always imagined it as being like a small rat. Whenever it moved, I could feel what felt like tiny claws scrabbling against my viscera. 'It's here,' I said, touching my chest. I can feel it.'
The doctor's demeanour changed. These were physical symptoms. There were things he could do. He examined my chest. He took my pulse, my temperature and my blood pressure.
'Well,' he said, once he'd finished, 'I'm not quite sure what to say. Everything looks pretty normal.'
I wasn't sure, either. I wanted to tell him how, if I sat quietly, I could hear its voice, talking to me, or perhaps to itself. I wasn't sure. Nonsensical things, mostly. Individual words and phrases. Sometimes they coalesced and, when they did, what it had to say was disturbing. It hated the darkness. It wanted to see and hear again. It was looking for a way back, it said, although where to wasn't clear.

#

Harris recommended a counsellor. I went along for a few sessions, but it didn't go anywhere. Matt was okay as counsellors go, but it was obvious from the beginning that he was convinced the whole thing was in my head and couldn't bring himself to think otherwise. I have to admit, in the end, I stopped turning up for appointments. I got sent text reminders, but ignored them. Fortunately, the situation resolved itself. Having whatever it was moving about inside me often made it difficult to sleep. One night I lay awake, twitching more than usual. I could feel it moving around between the skin on my neck and my trachea. It often found its way up there before heading back down into my thoracic cavity. It's no use, it said. It's no use. It sounded tired. They were, I think, the last words of whatever it was. As I lay there, I could feel it's movements got fainter, more sporadic. Finally they stopped altogether.