The Journal of Andrew Medcaf by Robin Murarka

The Journal of Andrew Medcaf

The following is a compilation of excerpts from the personal journal of Andrew Medcaf, dated between the years of 1993 to 1995.

Dated: March 6th, 1993

Again she continued to patronize me by reading the patient notes to me as we walked instead of just giving me the file and letting me make sense of it myself. I stared at that file and back up at her ridiculous face over and over, unaware that I was ignoring every single word she said, focused only on hating her. Now that I think about it, I’m certain she went through the same thing herself, but she can’t be blameless for keeping the cycle going. I sure hope I don’t.

We reached the patient’s door and Kline looked at me, just as if I was about to dive into the deep end. I held my hand out and smiled, un-provocatively of course, and took the file from her. I stared at her as she turned and walked behind me. I did not move until the clicking of her victimized shoes was nothing more than a memory.

Last name. Lee. First name. Unknown. Alias(es). Juxtor, Celt, Clementine, Abby, Kira, Sadie.

I peered into the window of the door. The patient was leaning against the wall, facing the bright window, unmoving. I could not tell if she was facing me or the window opposite the door. I stared at her a few more moments and then grabbed hold of the door handle. It occurred to me right there and then that perhaps I should knock. So I did. Immediately, she got to her feet and walked towards me. She was walking backwards!

She bumped into the door, the back of her head pressed against the window. I did not budge. Slowly her face turned sideways until I could see her profile. Her eye stared at me, dismally. She was chanting… she may have been chanting the whole time. At first I thought it was gibberish, or some sort of internal dialect. But I pressed my ear to the window and listened as best I could. What I heard sent shivers down my spine.

“…come to me come to me come to me come to me come to me…”

I chose not to enter.

Dated: March 27th, 1993

I have become increasingly interested in Clementine Lee. We have decided to use that as her name from now on as she seems to be the most rounded character. I can’t say I’ve met anyone quite like her before.

Generally when a patient suffers from repression, the characters generated within her experience life in small portions but Clementine seems to be a more omnipresent voice. Although her memories are limited to shadowy events (as she seems to be the “big sister” figure) the discussions we have incorporated almost all the characters within her, almost at a subconscious level. I have caught myself referring to her in the third person, as if the person sitting opposite me were a colleague and we were discussing another patient’s case.

She seems very keen on conquering the rest of the voices and asserting herself the sole speaker for the body she holds. Although I am sure her intentions are good, I fear she may not have the ability to retain control of herself no matter how hard she may try. The truth is, she is as much a concoction of turmoil as Celt is, and Celt is a devilish little bugger. The only difference is, she seems to accept this awareness with no problem.

Dated: December 24th, 1993

Boy did I fuck up with Clementine. I’m writing this in her room, besides her bed. I love her. She is reading this as I write it. She knows about Joyce. She doesn’t care, she understands. I’m staring at her in between words. I am in love with her. I don’t even know who she is. She doesn’t know who she is. I stare at her and I see what Joyce was missing. She’s in this hospital and I’m the one who is a drunk doctor fucking a mentally insane patient. Mentally insane… it makes her laugh. She knows it! I’m just as mental, wouldn’t you say? Diary? Journal? You never speak back! Well fuck you!

Dated: February 1st, 1994

I have been spending almost every free minute I have with Clementine. We have learned much about her case in the last few months, and I feel more and more confident that there is a way to heal the trauma that is locked up inside of her. She feels the same way.

We stumbled upon a story written almost two hundred years ago by a relatively unknown British scientist simply known as “Crowes”. Although I call it a story, it was extremely scientific and descriptive in its telling, almost as a psychological study, about a young fourteen year old girl whom he had adopted.

It seemed that “Fadila”, as she was referred to, was, at a very young age, used by her mother to enact sexual scenes with her gentlemen callers. Fadila’s mother was a well-known prostitute in her small Arabic community but was also actively seeking a husband to satisfy her economic and social needs.

The story went on to explain how the six year old was often tied down and gagged as she watched her mother have sex with numerous partners at once, some of whom would then move to Fadila to beat or take liberties with her. Many of these men would beat Fadila for hours on end, calling her “Sharmuta”, or whore while her mother was intoxicated. On many an occasion Fadila was unable to walk for days, and her urine and feces commonly contained traces of blood and mucus.

Her social position in the community was also problematic as she was mocked openly by her peers. Other females in the community would beat her on sight as many of their husbands were patrons of Fadila’s mother.

How Crowes met and adopted Fadila is not entirely clear, although within the story are mentions of his visits to distant lands. It can then be assumed that he encountered her at some point while visiting the desert on one such trip. Certain passages indicate that as Fadila aged she also became a prostitute. Mentions of her mother end at around the age of ten.

Crowes kept Fadila in a locked room in his house for almost six years, and wrote about his findings in this story. He went on to explain how initially when the two of them were intimate she had all the characteristics of an aged prostitute but when they would eat together she would almost instantaneously digress into childlike behavior, often throwing tantrums and refusing to eat.

Over the years Crowes noted at least eight different personalities within Fadila. At least two of them were male, three female, and three inconclusive. He would find lovemaking to be varied from night to night. Her likes and dislikes gauged from being extremely submissive to very dominant, often degrading and hitting Crowes while having sex.

What made Crowes’ study unique was the last two years of Fadila’s life, launched by an accidental but monumental event. In his notes, Crowes admitted that whenever the two of them had sex, Crowes had to use lubricant consistently as Fadila had no ability to lubricate herself. He had assumed she had a physical dysfunction and did not give it much thought. However, one night as they were lying in bed, Fadila turned to Crowes and stared at him with eyes he had never seen before. She looked frightened but human. He responded to her silence by kissing her forehead and stating that he loved her, sincerely. As the story went, she began to weep uncontrollably and climbed on top of him, beginning to make love to him. She was very uniquely vocal that night, and after it was over he found his entire body drenched in what were her juices.

Following that day he was convinced another personality had awoken inside of her, but after some brief experimentation it became clear what had occurred that night: Fadila had somehow merged two of her personalities, which resulted in one composite character, sharing the memories of both. All resentment, emotion and inequalities were matched and equated, creating a residual character that was in essence, the emotional combination of the other two.

Over the next few months Crowes attempted to determine how this occurred, and desperately sought some sort of formula to trigger a similar event. He failed to accomplish his goal, but did succeed one final time.

Some time after the initial awakening, in order to stimulate a reaction out of Fadila, Crowes hired actors to enact a scene whereby a mother was having sex with men in front of her younger daughter. Crowes led Fadila into the room in silence, blindfolded, and sat her on a chair. As she grinned, expecting a surprise, he noted it as the last time he saw her smile. He leaned down, behind her, and in a voiceless fashion whispered “Sharmuta” into her ears, over and over. After a few seconds, he pulled her blindfold off and whispered the word once more into her ear.

For a few moments, Fadila watched the scene. Crowes could not see her eyes but noticed her clutching her dress tightly. He paused in his chant, then whispered the word once more into her ear. She almost immediately screamed and maniacally attempted to claw her ears and eyes out as she lunged towards the nearest window, crushing her head as she landed on the rocky path three stories below.

Crowes made one final entry into his study that night. While examining Fadila’s body, he found clumps of facial tissue in her nails. Her face was nearly unrecognizable and in the short few seconds it took her to reach the window, she had gouged her right eye out and torn portions of both her ears off. Evidence suggested that she continued to claw at herself, even as she fell to her death.

Nothing further is known about Crowes.

Dated: February 25th, 1994

We have begun experimenting in Crowes’ techniques. Using what we know from Celt, we have targeted him as the first character to merge. What we are trying to do is make a reasonably accurate list of stimulus that Celt will react to.

Once we engage Celt, I independently psychoanalyze him in order to find out what resolution his character seeks, with the Crowes assumption that every character seeks resolution. We have as of yet not discovered what it is, but every session I have with Celt helps me understand him better. Clem is nervous but optimistic.

Dated: June 2nd, 1994

Resolution! As I bleed from the mouth, I am filled with joy. Clem sleeps, soundly tonight, but dreaming the thoughts of two. I will observe her the entire night to ensure her safety and state, but I have little doubt.

The night was long and painful. But here I am, alive. Prior to engaging Celt I held one of his favorite toys in my hands and played with it. Upon his arrival he was on me, punching, biting and kicking, trying to retrieve it. I gave it to him almost immediately, whimpering, telling him I was sorry over and over.

As per our vague expectations, that did not deter Celt. He continued to beat me, gritting his teeth and grinning, yanking at my hair and causing me plenty of bodily harm. The goal here was to outlast Celt, and outlast him I did. He tired after approximately fifteen minutes, and sat down on his cot, staring at me. I stared back, still cowering in a fetal position, continually repeating “I’m sorry”.

To my surprise, Clementine re-surfaced and jumped on me, kissing me, crying, soothing my wounds. I smiled weakly at her and told her to sit back down on the cot so that we could continue the process. She reluctantly agreed and kissed me one last time as she sat down, staring at me.

Again I engaged Celt. Feeling re-energized he jumped on me once more, kicking and punching, but with less fervor. I continued my pleas.

Celt sat down once again and stared at me, wordless. I slowly crawled over to him and kissed his feet once, hugging them, resting my head on them. He looked down at me, and I felt he was about to let loose once again. He did.

Throwing me back into the corner he beat me harder than before, but without a smile to be seen. He was genuinely angry now, almost vocally screaming. This time, he did not quit for almost twenty five minutes.

Beating after break after beating, Celt slowly wore down, his attacks lasting only a few seconds. I did nothing but cower, semi-conscious at this point. My thoughts were scattered and incomprehensible as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

After what seemed to be the entire night, I crawled weakly to Celt and kissed his feet once more, hugging his legs, placing my head against his knee, telling him that I was sorry. I did not look at him.

I felt a warm drop grace my head. Then another. As a shower of tears fell upon my head in the next few moments, Celt’s hand appeared in front of me with the toy in hand. He placed it in my hand and let it go, covering his face with his hands, weeping like a little child. I did nothing but hug his legs and close my eyes, holding the toy.

After a while the crying stopped and I looked up, more aware of the silence now, and saw Clementine’s head down on the cot, asleep. I slowly crawled up to listen to her breathing and I knew it was her.

Dated: September 7th, 1994

The dissolution of Celt was tremendous. Clementine is a slightly different person now, with a wider array of emotions. It is a hard thing to describe, but she seems less one dimensional and more human. It seemed apparent in our situation that Clementine was the lead personality and we are lucky our assumptions turned out correct.

Admittedly, I have been neglecting my duties and have received two warnings about it already. Kline is gone but this new prick Loftson could possibly be worse. He threatened to move Clementine to another facility if I didn’t begin to show more interest in my other patients. I don’t think he’s serious, but it has given me something to think about.

I’m considering forgetting it all for Clem. In all the relationships I’ve had I’ve never felt the loyalty she has towards me, nor have I been needed as much as I am. I have explored the possibility of feeling useless once Clem is completely healed, but haven’t concluded that it will happen. Perhaps I really do love her soul, whatever that is… maybe a combination of everything that she is. Who knows.

I’ve fondled the idea of taking her away from this place and foregoing my career. It sounds so fantastical but it all seems worthwhile. We could work on her situation and live happily ever after. Two mentally insane people, healed on each other.

Dated: September 14th, 1994

Well, it only took a week but here we are. In a motel room. Can you believe that? I can’t believe that. Me and Clem, lying next to each other, staring at each other, watching television as I write this. She’s in my arms, enjoying commercials. I’d imagine they’ve begun looking for us already. Taking into account the fact that her crime was years ago and that I’m a love-struck doctor, I doubt they’ll spend too much time pursuing us. Not a nation-wide hunt, I’ll bet. I’m going to be meeting with this guy I met at a party once who will be getting us IDs and what not. Hefty price, but I have the money.

I love her.

Dated: May 18th, 1995

It has been months since my last entry. I have been busily building a new life with Clementine. We have rented a small house segregated from others and have ritualized our lives. We have been living off my savings and although I feel confident that Clem will be healthy soon, money is running low. We have successfully dissolved two more personalities, namely Abby and Kira. Kira was quite hard because she, unlike most of the others, was the sociopath of the group, and used to being very silent and reserved about her thoughts. It was through deep meditation that Clem was able to provide snippets of stimuli into Kira’s mind.

We have discovered that meditation and hypnosis is a good tool used to engage personalities. Not all characters can be hypnotized, but through Clem’s hypnosis others can be reached, if even vaguely. It is through days and days of testing and categorization that we are able to piece together the reasoning behind each character’s existence, and therefore a possible resolution. The methods of resolution are sometimes similar, but still very different. If there were one universal way that a majority of them are dealt with, it is godlike compassion, for a majority of them are created due to the polar opposite.

We are learning a lot about Clem’s past as well which has up to now been quite the mystery. Through Celt and Kira we know she was heavily anti-social in school, and possibly sexually abused a teacher. It is also possible that other students were aware of this, as was her father.

We know for certain that her father was an alcoholic and beat her often. The town she resided in no longer exists, but it was very poor and hours from any large cities. Interestingly, Clem had no idea that she was abused, and still feels no anger towards this knowledge. In fact, she seems apathetic.

Dated: September 19th, 1995

We engaged Sadie earlier today and have made some conclusions based on her. Unlike the now merged personas that complete Clementine, Sadie is a complete character unto herself, with her own repressed memories. As we learn more about her, we find it likely that she was the one that committed the murder in ‘82.

One frightening aspect of Sadie is that although she is still a child, she has little to no emotion. In fact, it is hard to maintain a conversation with her because she is unable to focus her thoughts and arrange them into coherent premises and conclusions. Her eyes seem to depict complete blankness.

Today was the third engagement with Sadie. I saw an aspect of her personality today that I have never spotted before. After she awoke, she looked around as she usually does but then got up and approached the window and began to break the glass with her bare hands. She didn’t seem to mind the blood or cuts and almost didn’t notice them. When I tried to restrain her she turned to me almost immediately, as if expecting it, and lunged at me, biting my chin. I had to smack her off me and pin her down.

Only after that point did I watch her more intently and realize that her eyes followed me wherever I was going when she thought I could not see them. She must have been watching me out of the corner of her eye when I approached her to restrain her. She might have been watching me the whole time she was breaking the window.

This psychopathic and violent behavior is in tune with what we think is the reservoir of Clem’s reactions to the abuses she’s suffered. It is entirely possible that over the years Sadie has stored the bulk of what negativity the rest of the characters experienced, so that they themselves could remain un-touched and in a way, innocent.

This makes Sadie extremely crucial to the healing process. It is ironic that she would be the final character to be dissolved, her being the nether abyss of Clem’s life.

Dated: October 11th, 1995
It is a cold dismal fall night. Sadie has attempted to damage herself and everything around her with almost every engagement now. Clem and I have boarded up the windows to avoid any attention and we both agree it is time to awaken her. I am possibly more nervous than Clem is, but I learn very little from our engagements with Sadie. I am becoming increasingly neurotic now… Our encounters are stressful as I cannot predict Sadie’s actions at all. I must keep my wits about me and watch her.

My savings are now depleted and we probably have two months left in this place. After that, we will have to relocate and I will have to get a job. It has been a blessing that we encountered each other as we did, and helped each other with our difficulties, but this haven can’t go on indefinitely.

I’ve never written in Andy’s journal before but I want to tonight. I want him to know that I love him with what I know to be love and that I want him to feel successful with whatever happens tomorrow night. I did not want to die a shattered soul, and I know I won’t. That isn’t the way life is supposed to end. I am blessed.

Nothing further is noted or known.

(this story accompanies the short film ‘The Tragedy of Clementine Lee’, viewable here)


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