Excerpt from Dr Mike long's notes, 25 March 1998
"Well, I imagine you know what this is..." says the doctor placing a board with an image that had paint smudges arranged randomly. He is sitting behind a small table, in front of him is a convict.
The doctor was a little obese, wore a brown blazer.
*First interview with Brannam. He's more distraught than I thought, but I'm optimistic. Success can give me a great name.*
Brannam was dressed in his standard prison outfit, gray overalls, but he, unlike everyone else, had written on Velcro a letter followed by a sequence of numbers: B-33920.
Pushing the image of Brannam's hands closer he says "I want you to take a good look and tell me what you see."
*He is very withdrawn, expressionless in both face and voice. Getting a response from you is, as a rule, DIFFICULT.*
"Won't you look at the board, Brannam? Won't you do it for me?
The man slowly takes the board between his fingers and lifts it just a few millimeters off the wooden table with only a slight incline.
Brannam now raises the drawing board a little higher with the image. With his arm outstretched he places it at chest height, staying a little below the chin of the doctor who is with his elbow resting on the table holding a pen whose tip is connected to his mouth, he has an inquiring look, carefully scans the Brannam's face as the man concentrates to interpret the image.
*I could look into his face for hours…but he returns the look, which I find uncomfortable. It never seems to blink.*
*However, I am convinced that I can help you. No problem is beyond the reach of a good psychoanalyst.*
"And so Brannam, what is it?" asks the Dr as the man puts the praxa close to the face
"What do you see?"
Of the figure Brannam could only see in the night a dog, a brown German Shepherd, dead, lying on its stomach. The head was split in half, a deep vertical tear that went from the nape of the neck to the snout, the width of the tear was from ear to ear, you could see the brain. The crimson red blood that came out in a steady stream had soaked through the crevice and splattered across the animal's face. It came out of the crevice and spread, went down backwards accumulating on his back, out the sides and fell, wet his muzzle and formed mini pools of blood on the left and right side of his nose on the lawn. He had dilated pupils that were surrounded by blood and his ears were pricked up. He had a look of sadness.
Brannam lifts her head, looking at the doctor without moving the clipboard. "A beautiful butterfly."
*Their responses to the smear test were surprisingly bright, positive and healthy. I really think it's getting better.*
*I just wish he wasn't so intense.*
*I wish you wouldn't look at me the way you do.*
THE ABYSS ALSO CONTEMPLATES
*His full name is Brannam Axelson. Born in 1946. Mother: Gretchen glick. Father: Unknown.*
"Shall we try another?" says the psychoanalyst taking another board
*He measures 1.74m and weighs 63kg. He is in excellent physical shape for his age.*
The mind doctor tilts the clipboard with the thumb and forefinger of one hand for Brannam to see "How about this one?" he says pointing the pen at the photo with his other hand.
*The cops don't like him; neither does the underworld; Nobody like. I've never met anyone so isolated. But, after all, how would he have gotten to that state?*
"Brannam?" he says, catching the inmate's attention.
The man who never leaves his posture - hands on the table, body and neck erect always looking forward, picks up the clipboard at belly level, he still keeps looking at the doctor.
"Good. Very good." the psychoanalyst says pointing to the board that is slowly lifted by Brannam "Now, I want you to tell me what's on the board..."
"Tell me what you see"
The image activates a memory. Brannam was about 6 years old, he was in the apartment. The boy was standing in the doorway watching two figures squirming together. Was his mother and was being kissed fiercely by a "new stepfather", she let out muffled moans into the man's mouth as he ran his hands over her. He was bald, wore glasses and casual clothes. The mother was half-naked in heels.
"Mom, is he hurting you?" says the boy in a low, tiny voice, conveying more fear than a question.
The two immediately stop and unclasp each other, the mother returning with a disgusted look to the boy in the white shirt. The man pushing his torso away extends one of his arms waving in the boy's direction to say "There are children here?!"
"Bastard" she says tilting her head towards the boy, expression of clear anger "I should have aborted you" she says with her face above Brannam's, could see the wrinkles and other effects of middle age on her skin. Coming out of the angry expression and entering with one of disgust she slaps the boy's face with a wide open hand slap, she returns to her normal posture taking a few steps back and closes the door tightly, locking herself with the man.
The old man takes his eyes off the board and looks back at the doctor "Beautiful flowers"
The doctor takes another board and holds it at chest height with the image pointed so that Brannam can see "What now?"
"I knew this boy's mother was a bitch" says a teenager to his friend
Even though it was a wide alley, they were preventing the child from passing. The one who spoke wore a red blouse and smoked. The friend wore a green sweater and was chewing an apple.
"I... I need to get something from the store. For my mother..." says the boy
"I have something here for your mother" says the one wearing the red blouse
"That's it. I know that everyone has already fucked the slut." says the one in the green sweater.
"Is she really, kid? Is your mother a whore?"
"Of course she is. And he's going to make an appointment for us, isn't he, whoreson?"
"Please. I have to go--"
"You're not going anywhere..." The one who was chewing interrupts the speech pushing the apple in Brannam's face with such force that it bursts the fruit smearing the boy's face with paste "...whoreson".
Brannam, who was peaceful, now has an angry scowl on his face, his right lip raised to show his teeth, a mixture of anger and contempt.
"EHHAHAHA! Look at him"
"Looking is better than smelling"
"Motherfucker"
The one who smoked grabs the boy's striped shirt with both hands "Maybe there's lice." He approaches his face "It's full of disease"
"Do you have illness, Whoreson?"
"Hey, riche, be careful he..." says the one in the green sweater when he sees that the boy was holding the teenager's red shirt with his right hand while with his left hand he took the cigarette out of his mouth.
"AaAaAaIaaAAaaRGH!" His only reaction is to close his eyelids and scream in surprise as he feels the cigarette butt being pressed hard against his left eye.
The boy lets go of him and leaves the dying man moaning, who only reacted by putting his hand on the eye that had been burned. People looked at the situation perplexed.
Brannam jumps towards the other teenager, he knocks him down with the help of his knee. On top of him Brannam puts his thumb inside his mouth pressing his tongue down which left the teenager scared with his mouth open and with difficulty to speak
"Hold the boy! For God's sake, hold it!" Someone speaks of the crowd.
"Oh my god No no no no" says the struggling teenager as he feels the boy's teeth pulling violently on a patch of skin on his right cheek, he could feel some hot liquid coming out as the skin started to come off.
"Hold your arms! your arms!" Says a man as he gives the boy a tie, he had an animalistic, murderous face. In addition to the smudged face of the mace, he was red with rage.
"You should be arrested! Did you see that bite?"
"A beast! a mad dog!"
"A really mad dog!"
"parental fault"
"A beautiful rainbow" says Brannam, taking his eyes off the board and looking at the doctor.
"Magnificent" says the psychoanalyst, getting up.
The iron door had begun to open
"Brannam, I'm very pleased with your answer this afternoon and I want you to know that." The doctor starts tucking his belongings under his arm "I think there is hope. And you?"
The old man doesn't respond, he doesn't even have a reaction. Unshakable.
The iron door is fully open
"Yeah..." clears the doctor's throat "Well, Brannam, I think that's all for today." Two guards begin to enter the room "The guards will take you to their... uh... Rooms" Brannam gets up "See you tomorrow."
The doctor puts his hand on his chin and looks sideways at the old man being handcuffed to the hallway.
*In 1956, he attacked an older child, partially blinding him with a lit cigarette. He was ten years old.*
*As soon as they investigated his domestic life, he was removed from living with his mother. Away from her, he seems to have improved a lot. *
*Excelling at School, Brannam became a bright but extremely quiet child.*
*For example, when informed of his mother's brutal murder, he restricted his comments to one single word:*
"great"
"Starlight, it's late. Still reading about this Brannam guy?" asks an orange quadruped addressing unicornio who was reading the notes under a candle on a desk, it was the room where she used to carry out her activities when she was at home.
"He seems fine to me" says the unicorn closing the book it was reading with its magic.
"He struck me as terrifying." says Sunburst approaching. "Don't get too involved, Star, or it could ruin your good mood."
"Sun, I'm too fat and too full for anything to break my mood..." she says getting up.
"...Although some topics from his childhood..." she says a little annoyed
Sunburst puts his front paw over Starlight's hip, bringing her closer to him, the two of them side by side, face to face "Shh. Leave it. You have a good life. So do I. Nothing else matters."
He runs his paw until he reaches her mane. "You're the kindest and most positive person I know. That's why you need to take care of yourself." He starts walking towards the door still with his paw on it "Are you sure it's safe to stay with Brannam?
When they arrive at the doorframe Starlight says "Don't worry. Not a threat anymore."
"I hope not. Now, come on... forget about work. The night is beautiful..."
..."Let's see if it lasts forever."