IN THOUGHTS I WALK WITH YOU
By Steve Mason

My next session with Wallace resumed exactly where we left off: with him staring intently at my coat collar. His adamant refusal to make eye contact has been a continuing motivator for his illness, but I am confident that by the end of today’s session he will look me in the eye and acknowledge the true nature of his troubles. Once that happens, it will be only a matter of time before he achieves a mental catharsis within himself.

“I was hoping we could continue our discussion about Wakefield. You had hinted that there was another way for her to kill people. Would that be all right, Wallace?”

“I’ve told you what you needed to know, Doctor. I don’t know what else I can do to convince you that she’s real.”
Strange. After five sessions, I thought Wallace was on the verge of opening himself up to me, but his attitude just now... it doesn’t make sense. I had made doubly sure that my office was arranged to be a nurturing environment for my patients. The walls had been painted with a light shade of brown and most of the space within the room is empty with the exception of my desk and the two chairs on each side. These elements should have subconsciously assured Wallace that he was in a safe place while speaking to me. Now he seems to be more agitated than when we first met.

My initial impression of Wallace had been conventional as far as the term goes for the mentally disturbed. When he voluntarily committed himself to St. Patrick’s General, he was on the verge of being dangerously underweight with black bags under his fatigued eyes. During our sessions, I learned that he was a prolific graphic novelist, enjoying great success and fame for many years. It was only when he created In Thoughts I Walk With You that the problems began.

The story contains a female antagonist known only as the Wakefield Killer. She murders male targets and leaves a flower called the Habenaria Radiata on their corpses, symbolically imparting her thoughts with her victims to take with them as they die. Wallace has claimed that this ‘Wakefield’ as we call her, given she has no real name, has found a way of entering the minds of people who have read Wallace’s graphic novel, killing them from within. Since the graphic novel was released, Wallace has lived in fear of Wakefield and is convinced that she will be the cause behind humanity’s extinction.

Typical schizophrenic delusions: that’s all Wakefield really is. Perhaps another careful dose of realism will help convince Wallace of this.

“Wallace, the purpose of these meetings is not to determine the validity of your mental illness, but to classify it. You need to accept that Wakefield is merely a symptom of an illness.”

All I got for a reply was a moan and the visual of hands concealing an expression of anguish. My point must be driven further in, but gently. I lifted myself from my chair and approached him to place a consoling hand on his shoulder.

“Admission is the first step toward recovery, Wallace. As soon as you remember that Wakefield is nothing more than ink on paper, you’ll discover that your fears were nothing but schizophrenic symptoms. Besides, even if this Wakefield were alive, she wouldn’t be able to reach anyone who hasn’t read your story. After all, you can’t please everybody.”

I waited for an answer, allowing silence to stretch between us. I did my best to keep my hand from tightening its grip. My patience was soon rewarded when he lowered his hands. Though he did not gaze at me, I could see revelation dawning in his eyes.

“True,” he murmured. “You can’t.”

I couldn't help but smile as I returned to my chair.

“You’ve taken the first step, Wallace. I’m proud of you. Unless there’s anything else you wanted to mention, I think we can end today’s discussion.”

“Just one thing, doctor. I still haven’t told you Wakefield’s other method for killing people.”

My elation soured as soon as he spoke. Had all my efforts been for nothing? Should I indulge him in his madness? I needed to know if I reached him or not.

“You know, you’re absolutely right, Wallace. I completely forgot about it. What is this other method?”

“Marketing.”

I barely managed to stop myself from laughing out loud. I had expected his answer to be rooted in fear, but the way he spoke made it sound so mundane.

“Marketing?” I asked. “How does that work?”

He didn’t answer—at least not immediately. He took a few seconds to stare at the bottom of my desk before he spoke again.

“I know that not everyone will read my story, doctor. That’s not what scares me.

“What scares me is that Wakefield doesn’t need the novel anymore to reach people. My publishers have been advertising my creation throughout the world via television and the Internet. A collection of promotional images, story excerpts, reviews... that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve even overheard that a studio is planning to make a movie adaptation.

“I don’t blame you for thinking I’m crazy. This idea that Wakefield is capable of all this is probably just a symptom like you said. But then I remember the power ideas can possess throughout history and I have to wonder. What if an idea has so much power that it has a life of its own off the page? If that’s true, then Wakefield is unstoppable, because once the idea of her gets inside your head…there’s nothing you can do.”

His story finished, Wallace looked right at me. I could feel his gaze on my face, but something held me back from making eye contact. It wasn’t until the orderly took him away that I realized if I had looked into his eyes, I would have seen only cold truth in them.