Rules

This story was written for a previous Literary Taxidermy Competition. As such the first and last sentences are from The Black Monkey by Katherine Mansfield, everything in-between is my own creation.

“My Babbles has a nasty knack of keeping monkeys on her back. It’s nasty because I can’t stand monkeys and she knows it, she does it to punish me if I’ve broken the rules.” Abby sighed sadly.

“You mentioned the rules when you booked this session, can you tell me what they are?” I asked, careful that my face and tone didn’t reveal how curious I was.

“I have a curfew of nine pm because she doesn’t like to be alone at night. Sometimes she’ll let me off if it’s just a few minutes after, it depends on her mood and if I’ve broken any other rules lately. Music and the television have to be quiet. I’m only allowed two other people in the house at one time and someone can only stay over twice a month. I have to provide her with a meal once a month. She can’t stand mess so the house and garden have to be immaculate”, she pondered for a moment and gave a breathy nervous laugh, “I think that’s it, I’ve lived with Babbles and her rules for so long I sometimes forget how it was before.”

“How did Babbles tell you the rules? You said in your initial message that she doesn’t talk.”

“Sorry, I meant she doesn’t talk any more. When I first moved in she spoke to me to let me know it was her house, would always be her house, and gave me the conditions of living there. She didn’t talk out loud, she projected her words into my head bouncing around like dropped marbles. I was frozen in shock and didn’t respond and I think she took that as me being rude, maybe that’s why she hasn’t talked to me since. It’s funny really, her being called Babbles and that’s something she never does.”

“Have you ever told anyone else about Babbles?”

“My boyfriend knows but he can’t see her. My family are quite judgemental so I’ve never told them. To be honest I’m feeling a little unwell, could we leave it there for today?”

She had gone rather pale so I agreed and we scheduled another session for later that week. I went home and began writing my first chapter straight away. I’d been a therapist for fifteen years at that point with three books about fascinating cases under my belt. Maybe if I’d known how it would end I wouldn’t have been so excited but a woman who was seeing things and changing her behaviour but still led a normal life, holding down a good job and healthy relationships? Ka-ching. I know I sound awful but I didn’t have much else going on in my life at that point. I was consumed by my work and that had driven away my husband, but that only gave me more time to be consumed by my work. Ironically, if I’d seen a therapist I might not have got so involved, but as it was my days were spent with patients and my evenings were spent with my book draft and too much wine.

Abby came to me twice a week for just under six months. I waited until we were two months in and I felt we’d built up enough trust before I brought up the book with her. Other patients have been reluctant so straight away I stressed anonymity and offered a very small cut of the profits but she jumped at it. Looking back, that was the first big warning sign I ignored I think; she didn’t say yes for herself, she said she thought Babbles would enjoy having her story told. According to her, Babbles the imaginary old hag wanted her story told not Abby the real breathing person. I couldn’t have known exactly what would happen but I should have known she needed more help than I could provide. I should have made her leave that damn house.

Since that first session I’d been wondering about the monkeys but every time I brought it up Abby would clam up and end the session early. I finally got my answers at the end of our time together. I was convinced I was helping her because she was getting more and more open and seemed less agitated so I tried to ask about the monkeys again. She crossed her arms and took a deep breath to prepare herself but she did indulge me.

“There haven’t actually been any for a while. I’m following all the rules so I’m in her favour for now, but when I first moved in it happened a lot. I don’t know how she knew what I was scared of, she just has a way of getting in your head. The first time I came home later than nine she woke me up in the middle of the night with a goddamn monkey clinging to her back, its horrid little hands twisted into her hair for purchase. She had this twisted grin on her face and kept coming closer until the monkey was so near me I could feel its rancid breath on my face. I wanted to run but I couldn’t tear myself away from its gaze. I’ve often wondered where she’d even find a monkey but I think she can just manifest whatever she needs to get you to obey.”

We sat in silence for a while after that and I pondered, not for the first time, why this intelligent woman with no previous trauma would imagine something that punished her with her worst fears. I scribbled down this question on my pad and circled it furiously before asking her again about her life up until Babbles. She chuckled and assured me, as always, that it had been completely normal before posing the fateful question:

“I think you should meet Babbles, she’s keen to meet the person who will immortalise her in text. It’s time for her to eat next Wednesday and she likes her tea in the evening, will you come?”

I’ve been invited to patient’s houses before and I always refuse, stating that I want to keep professional boundaries, but there was something about this case that I couldn’t crack and I found myself agreeing. How I wish I hadn’t. We had one more session before then, it turned out to be our last but we didn’t know it at the time, and Abby spent most of it almost bouncing up and down with excitement that I was finally meeting Babbles.

On that Wednesday evening I pulled up outside Abby’s small neat home. The day had been unseasonably warm but as I got out of the car I felt a sharp chill in the air and regretted not bringing a jacket. I had this strange feeling of dread and it took me a while to ring the doorbell. When I did, Abby opened it and greeted me with a genuine wide smile.

“You came! Babbles will be so happy, she’s so excited to see you that she even spoke to me today!” She giggled like a child.

I opened my mouth to remind her to express her own emotions, not those of Babbles but decided it would be best to not be a therapist tonight and just see Abby in her own environment. Abby showed me through to the kitchen, and I was surprised to see her boyfriend Shane was there too. We exchanged pleasantries and Abby offered drinks, I was restrained and avoided the wine. I picked up quickly that all was not as well as Abby had made it seem in her sessions between her and her boyfriend. Every time Abby brought up Babbles, which was even more than usual, his jaw stiffened and his nose flared and he tried to change the subject. She tried to take his hand a couple of times but he pulled it roughly from her grasp. I ignored the awkwardness and just kept making mental notes of the conversation in case I needed it for the book.

It all started to go wrong after I’d been there for around an hour. Abby brought up Babbles again and Shane stood up abruptly, declaring he ‘needed another drink to get through this shit’ but as he stood up he wobbled on his feet. He put his hand to his head groaning and then fell to his knees before collapsing onto his side. I rushed over, I’m not that kind of doctor but I have a reasonable level of first aid in case any patients collapse in my room. He was breathing but his pulse was slow so I put him in the recovery position and grabbed my bag to call an ambulance. I dialled the number but then Abby pulled my phone out of my hands and threw it on the counter with my bag. I’m so grateful that this action caused the phone to connect the call as I’m not sure I’d be here otherwise. I demanded to know what Abby was playing at and she gave me a small smile.

“Shane doesn’t need an ambulance. The poison won’t kill him, he just can’t move. It’s sad but he was starting to get resentful about my time with Babbles. She only reveals herself to people if she wants to and she never really liked him so he didn’t understand why he could only stay twice a month or why our dates ended early. He’ll understand now.”

I began to protest but then I heard a strange shuffling noise which drew my attention. I still can’t really believe I’m saying it but Babbles entered the kitchen, the shuffling was her dragging her feet along. She looked a little like a very old woman; she was very hunched and her long straggly hair was grey but her limbs were far too long for her frame and when she looked at me her dark eyes were full of evil. She gave me a big twisted smile and Abby clapped her hands in delight.

Something in my mind broke and I slid down to sit on the floor before I fell down, I just couldn’t process that she was real. Shane was a few feet in front of me and as Babbles approached him I had this wave of terror but I wasn’t capable of moving my body to do anything about the situation. I sobbed as Babbles began to dig her claw-like nails into Shane’s leg and pull out chunks of flesh and push them into her mouth greedily, her chin quickly turning red. Shane was conscious enough to groan in pain. Abby got down on the floor with Babbles and placed her head gently on her shoulder.

“I told you it was a good meal this month.” She crooned.

I threw up then, hot bile burning my throat but they didn’t seem to notice. Thankfully, the operator had heard Abby talking about poison and traced the call. Police officers broke down the door before Babbles could get too far through her meal. As they took Abby away she still had a smile on her face.

I cooperated with the police and gave them all my notes from our sessions but of course they didn’t believe me that Babbles was real. I was asked if I would help Abby in the psychiatric facility she ended up in as I already had a relationship with her but I refused. I’ve given up therapy and have had plenty of my own instead. I used the money from my previous books to buy Abby’s house and let it sit empty so Babbles is contained.

I’m doing better than I was but odd moments from that night still pop up in my nightmares regularly. The most common is what Abby said to me as Babbles began to eat:

“It’s funny, you asked so many question these past few months but not one of the most important. What did she have for evening tea?”