A Troubled Mind

         Marriage is a life-changing event where two people become one and any action made by either reflects the bond between both.  Stephen and Amy Matheson had a great relationship, Stephen was a successful freelance architect, and Amy a respected nurse. 
         Everything was wonderful until Stephen began hearing voices.  The first time he heard the voice, Stephen couldn't even make out what it said.  At the time, it seemed to just be some odd sound off in the distance that Amy didn't happen to hear.  "I must be just be crazy," Stephen said,smiling at his wife.  He noticed that she didn't smile back, she was focused on a stained section of the grout in their brick driveway. 
         The couple spent days like this together rarely.  They used to sit in lawn chairs in the front yard,sipping mixed drinks and laughing about their days at work, but recently, Amy didn't smile much at all.  Double shifts in the emergency department of a critical access hospital will do that to you, which her loving husband fully understood so he left the topic alone. 
         Amy was on call the next day but even though the phone never rang, she laid on the couch, staring at the morbid black and white painting that hung over the mantle in the living room.  They bought the thing from an artist who typically set up shop near Stephen's office in the city.  The kid was strange, wearing gothic make-up and women's pink nylon's on his arms.  Stephen pitied the guy and paid him double the price for the one-of-a-kind peice. 
         Stephen recognized Amy's depression despite his lack of medical training, it would have been obvious to anyone.  Being the thoughtful husband that he was and wanting to keep his bombshell blonde wife around, Stephen went out for the standard flowers and chocolate treatment.  "Trouble in paradise?" the familiar store clerk asked.  "Something like that, Pete." Stephen's eyes panned the length of the display, "Let's throw in some stargazers and some red roses.  Oh and white ones." 

         Pete eyed the weary looking man, "Mr. Matheson, you're one hell of an architect but you might wanna leave the arrangement to a professional."  Stephen offered a smirk and went for his wallet, "No, Pete, she likes roses and stargazers, and chocolate so I throw em all into one big, expensive package and poof, happy wife."  Pete shook his head and swiped Stephen's debit card.  "Let's hope she doesn't like large numbers and bills then huh buddy?" Pete jested as Stephen turned to leave.  Stephen had the last word, offering a final smirk, "You're thinking of my accountant." 
         Stephen was greeted by the disappointing sight of an open garage door and a vacant slab of cement where a 2008 mercedes CLK63 AMG should be.  Once again his beautiful and dedicated wife had run off into the night to save lives.  Stephen placed his failed attempt on the kitchen table and headed for his office to get some work done. 
         Stephen awoke to the high-pitched pulse of seventy dollar cordless phone.  Lifting his head from the desk, he focused the blur of reality and located the culprit, answering with an obvious annoyance in his voice, "This is Stephen."  The response came quietly, "Stephen, I'm with her right now.  I might enjoy her again when she wakes up," click. 
         Within 8 seconds of the call ending, Stephen had the hospital receptionist on the overhead, "Amy Matheson line 8, Amy Matheson,line 8 please."  Amy's voice instantly reassured Stephen that the call was aprank,"Steve?  what's up?"  Stephen exhaled slowly, "babe I'm sorry,I just gota really weird phone call and had to make sure you were ok and everything.  "What did they say?"  Amy sounded worried, "Amy it's cool,wrong number or something.  I'll  see you at home , ok?"  "Ok, I love you."  She hadn't told him that she loved him in at least a month, this was a good sign. 
         Stephen shuffled to the master bedroom and embraced a good night's sleep with much hope for his marriage.  "I'm cheating on you Stephen, I'm sleeping with someone else and enjoying the hell out of it."  Amy's words made Stephen's heart skip a beat, then plummet to the depths of his stomache.  Awaking drenched in sweat would normally have been an inconvenience, but in this case all Stephen could feel was relief.  It was a dream, he still had his wife and better yet, she was in bed, home from work and snoring softly.  Stephen didn't disturb her, knowing from experience that any snoring meant she had exerted herself at work and would be cranky if woken before 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep. 
         Unable to return to sleep himself, Stephen slipped his feet to his beautifully stained cedar floors and down the carved stone stairway into his den for a nightcap.  In the darkness, Stephen noticed somethingon the floor, something with a white frame.  As he bent toexamine it, he froze.  In the dim reddish light he could see the details of the picture, it was a woman, naked with an expression of pleasure on her face, and visible in the shot was one large arm with a tattoo on the shoulder. 

         Stephen was pretty damned sure there was no tattoo on his shoulder, but when he recognized the face of his wife he instantly checked as a final effort to keep his sanity.  Stephen wasn't waking up, this time it wasn't a dream.  He turned his strained face toward the stairs that led to his sleeping wife, then jumped up and hit switch to activate the den's flourescent lights.  Panting loudly, Stephen sprinted up his customized stone staircase and threw open the heavy oak door, letting white light spew into the bed, onto his cheating wife who probably lay exhausted from screwing some doctor or surgeon.
         "WAKE UP!" He screamed and as if ordered by wires in her brain, Amy sat up in bed, fully awake as if she had been waiting for the moment.  While an infinite stream of curses fought to be unleashed from Stephen's mouth, nothing would come out.  He threw the picture at his startled wife and stoood over her, not sure what to do next.  Stephen had a history of having explosions of bottled-up anger and had even hit a girlfriend when he was younger. 
         Unfaithful women set him off, that was his button, personally installed by his own mother and her frequent romps while Stephen's father was out working a second job.  If Amy had given any indication that she was guilty, something bad was going to happen.  After a couple seconds of staring blankly,Amy flipped thepicture over to read the back.  Stephen almost expected her to say "This is one of my favorites, where'd you find it?" Instead she looked at him with an angry glare in her eyes and asked "What the hell is this and why did you wake me up to look at it?"  Stephen immediately grabbed the picture from her hand to point out the obvious, but he only saw a blank, white unused polaroid picture.  He checked the back but there was nothing.  "Are you going insane?" Amy continued, "Just let me get some sleep,that's all that I ask."  She rolled over as Stephen staggered out of the room,still staring at the blank photo.
With Amy's persistence, Stephen  agreed to see a psychologist the next afternoon.  "Just to aleviate any of those concerns youmight not be telling me about," Amy insisted with a little hug.  The trip to their destination was short despite Stephen's attempts to stall.  The building itself looked like a place where crazy people should go with it's all white exterior and security glass windows.  Stephen reluctantly followed his wife to the office of Doctor Lewis Smith.  "Stephen, what's on your mind?" The doctor asked. 
         Stephen moved his gaze to the ceiling and struggled to find the words that wouldmake him sound normal.  "I hearda noise one night that my wife didn't hear, the next night I got a phone call from a man that claimed he was sleeping with her,then I found apicture of her with the man in bed, but the picture turned outto be blank and my wife says the phone calls and noise never happened."Amy gasped "That's what the call was about?"  Stephen nodded.  Amy explained that she had called the phone company and the calls simply didn't happen when Stephen said they did, and told the doctor about the episode with the photo. 
         The psychologist frowned, deep in thought with a single bead of sweat closing in on his eyebrow as he stared at Stephens file, one that had been faxed to the office on the request of his wife.  The file camefrom a psychiatrist's office in Stephen's hometown of San Diego, California.  It contained information about Stephen's outburst 22 years ago when he had hit his girlfriend after an episode where she was caught by a mutual friend in a park at night with the football team's leading offensive lineman. 
         While Stephen's weakness was cheating wives, Dr. Lewis Smith despised men who abused women because unlike Stephen's parent's case, the Doctor's father was the parent to scar his young son's memory by beating his wife on an almost daily basis.  Lewis Smith knew his mother to always have obvious bruises that she would cover with clothing and makeup when possible, and when she couldn't cover them,she wouldn't leave the house.  Mrs. Smith hadn't left the house for a month and a half during one of her husband's longer drinking binges when Lewis found her in her walk-in closet.  She had hanged herself naked to expose the dozens of dark bruises on her body. 
         Lewis was raised by an adopted family when his father was sent to prison and followed in his new father's footsteps, the path of a soft-spoken, caring psychologist.  There was nothing caring in the doctor's voice now, though, as he looked up at Stephen with disgust.  He knew how stories like this ended and it would NOT happen to this beautiful young women.  Doctor Smith perscribed Stephen a heavy dose of anti-depression pills, muscle relaxers and a strict no-alchohol recommendation.  As the couple left, Doctor Smith pulled Amy aside and whispered, "If he raises his hand to you, call thepolice.  It's best for both of you, trust me!"  Amy nodded then left to walk her husband to the car. 

         Stephen put a line through the first week of August on the calendar.  His mood had improved over the last couple of days, after he adjusted to the medication, and there hadn't been any phone calls or disappearing pictures.  Amy smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, "See?  No big deal."  Stephen nodded his agreement and kissed her as she headed off for work, "Try not to work too late, babe" Stephen said.  She turned to chuckle a reply, "No promises."  Stephen relaxed in front of the T.V., assured that his wife was faithful and that his breakdown was over. 
         She had agreed that if he made it a week without an episode, they would have a drink together and he could quit taking the meds. She was a nurse and she knew best so Stephen didn't argue for the doctor's orders.  He could really use a drink, too, as soon as she got home. Amy arrived early despite her warning and the coupled enjoyed a beer over a game of chess with some music playing in the background.  After a few hours, Amy was losing articles ofclothing with every loss and Stephen had few inhibitions left as they laughed and forgot about the previous weeks events. 
         Stephen even saw a good chance of getting lucky, it had been so long afterall.  The doorbell rang, leaving curious expressions on Amy and Stephen's faces for a moment.  Stephen checked his watch, "11:45?" Amy went to the door.  "Good evening ma'am!" the young man exclaimed as he handed Amy a boquet of flowers.  "Yeah, luckily for you," she muttered and offered him a two-dollar tip.  Amy read the note aloud, "Amy, Every time I hear you moan..."  A week's worth of progress mutated into a manifestation of bitter hatred in Stephen's instantly darkening mind as she spoke, "Every time I hear you moan I am more certain that I need you."  She was shaking.  A tear rolling down her soft cheek to her perfect lips convinced Stephen that while a problem may exist, it wasn't Amy and it wasn't him.           "Someone is messing with us, Amy." Steven inquired.  She looked around at the open windows and replied shakily, "Baby, I don't know what's going on, you know I would never do this to you!"  "I know Amy, don't worry.  Someone has something against us, or maybe you have an admirer.  Whichever, I'll fix it, I promise."  Amy insisted on calling her friend, Stacy for reassurance but sounded confused when the call connected. 
         Still shaky, Amy tried to explain that she had the wrong number, "I'm sorry, this is Amy Matheson and I was trying call my friend.  my husband and I were drinking and I got flowers and he probably think I'm cheating on him or something..." Stephen started to correct her, to reaffirm that he knew none of this was her fault when Amy gasped, "Oh! Doctor Smith, I'm so sorry, I forgot I even programmed your number.  I'm so sorry to wake you, don't worry...."  She looked at the phone then quietly set it down.  "Steve, he's on the way over."  She moved her gaze to the floor and started to sob.  "Amy, it's ok, I'll call the police and get they'll nail this guy, and we'll explain to Doctor Smith that we were just celebrating my lack of symptoms."           The responding officers were at the door in minutes, questioning a shaking women while her husband sat on the couch, quietly rehearsing his story for the arriving psychiatrist.  Stephen didn't notice the beer bottles around his feet while he prepared his statements and studied them in hismind, his mouth mimicking the words he would say.  The officers stared at the man, mumbling his quiet chant and decided to take Amy outside.  Doctor Smith arrived as they finished their questioning and the three professionals compared notes.  At 1:30Am, all three men left a nervous Stephen and a scared Amy and continued their conversation near the patrol car parked out front. 
         The psychiatrist asked the officers to keep an eye on the place because the man was off his meds and becoming unstable and they agreed to do so.  Stephen and Amy Matheson consoled eachother as they fell into sleep, uncertain of the night's events but sure that they would remain strong and see the issue through. 

         Doctor Smith had one last thing to do before leaving his office, however.  He pulled the file of Stephen Matheson from a 5 foot high filing cabinet and opened it to a questionaire where Stephen had hand written his own reason for seeking treatment.  There it was, "I am in distress over this problem..."  Stephen's own words.  The Doctor held the paper next to the note from the boquet of stargazers, red roses and white roses that had set off the incident between the couple, "I am more certain..." It was almost as if the letters were lifted from one page and set on the other.  Stephen had a funny way of curling the lower left and upper right sides of his "I's," and the word "am" matched, with the end of theletter a forming the beginning of the m, a capital "A" in both cases despite their placement in the sentences.  Stephen wrote the note and sent the flowers, the Doctor was sure of this now. 
         He phoned the police and spoke with Sergeant Davis,whom had been present earlier at the Matheson residence with his new information.  In the morning, Davis arrived at the Matheson home to ask Amy if she wished to press charges on her husband, given the incriminating evidence.  "No!" she yelled, "He is not the problem here, don't you get that?"  "But Ma'am, we have traced the origin of the flowers to..."  "I don't give a rat's ass if you traced them to Hitler, get out of myhouse!"  Stephen watched the event unfold from thekitchen table, barely visible to the officer. Amy slammed the door and wentto Stephen's side, crying to ask him why he would do things to terrify and confuse her.  His mind collapsed in on itself, without the energy to try to figure this event out, all Stephen could do was weep. 

At the end of the week, Stephen was back on schedule with the medication Doctor Smith had prescribed, Amy was putting in plenty of time at work and helping Stephen cope while at home.  She encouraged him to pick up a hobby, like playing the guitar or painting but nothing interested Stephen.  Another eventless week passed by and Stephen was becoming restless, angered at the fact that someone had tried to cause anguish in his home and turn him against his wife.  A thunderous gunshot rang into Stephens ears and he immediately dove to the floor, then realising Amy was outside,he grabbed his 9 Millimeter handgun from its bedside drawer and ranto the kitchen window. 
         Anna stood next to a fence post, aiming Stephen's 12 guage at a startled squirrel in a tree.  Anna giggled and turned to the house, "Don't you remember how much you used to love to hunt,back before the office sucked you in?"  She was walking with a sway in her hips, the international sign that a female desires attention or is in some way aroused.  Stephen was outside in seconds, successfully missing the speedy squirrel by quite a margin with his handgun.  Amy placed theshotgun in his amrs and flashed a bright smile,"You can hit it with this, I know you can."  Stephen was becoming anxious, anticipating a long night with his increasingly gorgeous wife, it had been along time now and aside from finding out who had really sent theflowers to his wife and teaching the guy a well-deserved lesson, Stephen had one thing on his mind. 
         A blast tore through the air, dropping the lifeless squirrel to the ground while Amy continued swaying her hips,as if she was dancing to fantastic music.  She didn't even flinch at the sound of the gun firing.  Stephen's eyes were fixed on her as she moved to the sound of an inaudible beat to the kitchen door and turned to blow him a kiss, "You just keep practicing, I'll cook up some dinner and maybe light a few candles."  Stephen was in the mood tofollow orders after all of that visual stimulation.  He fired round after round at anything that moved while Anna occasionally yelled encouragement from the window.  The sky grew dark and Stephen was hungry in many ways.  He made his way into the kitchen and called for Amy.  His answer was a muffled scream. 
         Stephen tensed like the sting of a well-tuned bow while blood rushed to his extremities,carrying adrenaline and endorphines through his circulatory system.  Eyes bulging and jaw clenched, Stephen marched forward, shotgun in hand with a shell in the chamber and 3 eager to follow.  Someone had tried to call out for him and the only someone in the house that he knew of was his wife.  Stephen sprinted upstairs to his bedroom andpaused outside the door.  He heard someone struggling and the familiar sound of hid bed jerk over the hardwood floor.  "What are you doing, Amy?"  a male voice asked. 
         Stephen swiveled on his right heel, sliding the barrel of his 12-guage through the doorway to his bedroom.  His wife was completelynaked in the bed, face-up, with some guy straddling her with his shirt off.  Amywas gagged.  The man saw Stephen and cried out, "wait!  WAIT!" The second shell entered the chamber of the gun as the first slidoutof the chamber and into the man's bare chest.  Before the man fell to the floor,all four of Stephen's remaining rounds had punctured vital organs and exited passionately, creating inoperable injuries throughout the stranger's body. 

         The gun smoked as Anna screamed and Stephen's accountant quickly bled to death, his body slumped against the wall with his blonde hair stained red by his own blood.  Stephen stood in the doorway, incomplete shock for minutes before reality sank in and he thought to free his panicked wife.  Once free, she grabbed a blanketand wrapped herself in it as she fled downstairs.  Stephen's mind struggled to keep up with what was going on, he was sure that Amy was in shock but that he had saved the day.  He saved his wife from certain rape by his most trusted friend and accountant, Dolan Williams.  Dolan sent the flowers, Dolan made the phone calls, it was all Dolan!  Stephen's mind temporarily forgot the need to comfort his wife to call the police toinform them of his news.  They were at his house before he got to the punchline.  Now hysterically describing his explanation to the officers in a sobbing outburst, Stephen felt that everything would be back to normal, the enemy had been dealt with and he had saved his wife.  Stephen smiled as the officers approached, almost expecting a hug, then he lost consciousness. 

"The court finds you guilty on the charge of first-degree murder, Mr. Matheson.  Stephen's eyes began to clear, was he waking up from a dream?  "The court also finds you guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, intent to harm, assault, battery, use of a deadly weapon, and obstruction of justice.  You are hereby sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of probation to the care of a high-security mental institution, do you understand the charges?"  Stephen slowly looked to his left, at his wife, Anna.  She was crying in her seat at the prosecution stand.  He looked back at the witness stand at Doctor Lewis Smith at the Witness stand.  Now, if not before, Stephen lost all control of his own mind.  He managed a nod toward his wife and allowed the bailiffs to take him away.  Stephen Matheson would never see his home again, or his wife or his genious architechtural plans, but he wouldn'y know the difference, he was lost somewhere in the past between the time he was an intelligent, successful architect and husband with a beautiful, faithful wife and the present where he was medicated into an abyss of uncontrollable sobbing and gleeful laughter without reason.  Stephen ceased to exist to anyone that had ever known him.

Anna Matheson sipped her martini with the relaxation of a buddhist monk while drawing lines in the warm carribean sand with her pedicured toes.  "Her lawyer and lover, Anthony Avatio stared at the curves on her body, eager to introduce himself to them, while hesitant to learn her whole story.  "So, now that the legal battle is over and in the past, what exactly did happen?  Was your husband really loopy or is there more to the story?"  Anna paused her daydream and removed her sunglasses to face the glare of an orange sun, setlow on the horizon. 
         "Forget about my past, Tony.  I had a bad experience, ok? That's the last thing I want to talk about.  How about you worry about wether or not you have a future with me and consider the best possible way to pop the question.  I'm only going to be beautiful for so many years you know."  Her straight forward attitude turned Anthony on.  No bullshit, no delicacy, just plain truth.  He decided to do it, he would marry Anna and live his life freely enjoying his hobbies while working major cases only when needed.  He would treat Anna like a Queen and help her forget this whole mess. 
         The lawyer would take care of the widow, in a way that her architect husband hadn't.  He would cater to her every need, bring her flowers and buy her dinner.  "This is perfect," Anthony whispered to himself.  Anna kept her insane ex-husband's last name for one reason, to remind her of how she obtained success.  She envisioned her seduction of the accountant, getting him to play along and make the phone calls to her husband.  She had researched internet horror stories of how people grew into their professions and came across a psychiatrist who hated abusive men. 
         Anna played the Doctor into her plot, as well as her own husband when she got him to break the doctor's orders, then "accidentally" called him when the couple was intoxicated and she was scared.  She had told the accountant to go to bedroom when he heard the gunshot, that it meant her husband was out of the picture and they could make love. She gagged herself which drew a smile from the accountant as he undressed, then she screamed when she heard her husband steponto the hardwood floor.  She had even placed the gun in his hands and seduced him into firing the thing before meeting her in bed.  The girl had done her homework, but now was not the time torevel in such memories, the architect had left her a mere 1.2 million while the lawyer was worth at least 6.
         It was time to hire a new accountant.  Anna smiled at Anthony then replaced her sunglasses, grinning at the sun.  The Carribean waves lapped at the shore and the light of the day descended into a lone ray of light, but Anna still smiled with the lawyer at her side.
           "I must be crazy," she whispered, and night fell on the beach.