Living With Schizoaffective Disorder A Short Story

By Horace James Smith

Dedicated to the hard work of the CHMTs that work in a very hard area. The area of the mind. This is my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barrocks Productions
• Release date: Feb 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201511012

Horace James Smith

Because of the mental illness that I was diagnosed with as a child, my normal vision was created in darkness. I do have a abnormal way of seeing life. It is sometimes called a prophetic vision. However, it is not a prophetic voice. I am not a prophet as such. I am not a prophet for the Christian Church or for the secular religions.I have no following. I am not a demigod with some sort of supernatural knowledge. I am just a male who have been diagnosed with a life changing illness that see through that illness to create.

Book preview

1

Henry stood at the door of the living room, watching me play with my toys.

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‘Your son is sick. He needs to spend the night with me where I will heal him with my powers.’ Henry said to my mother.

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‘Do you want me to pack anything?’ My mother replied.

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‘No, I have a change of clothes for him. It will cost you fifty pounds.’

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‘I don’t have that kind of money because I’m poor. I must keep the food pantry under lock and key. In this way, the oldest boy doesn't steal the food. I have bought the food with my low wages to keep us for the week. I am also the only one that is working in this household. Where am I supposed to get fifty pounds?'

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‘Then he cannot be cured and will grow up to become a madman walking the streets.’ Henry retorted.

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Frightened at the prospects that I would lose my mind, she said, ‘I will borrow the money. But please take my son with you tonight and cure him.’

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‘Ok.’

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The conversation between this pervert and my mother made me feel confused. I went with the priest to his home.

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Now standing in front of him in his apartment, Henry said, 'Take off your clothes.'

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I did.

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Henry went to his bathroom and brought back a basin full of hot soapy water.

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He wiped me down with the soapy water, then he took a foul-smelling oily substance and rubbed it all over my body.

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He ordered me into the bed. Confused, I got into the bed on the opposite side, facing towards the window away from Henry.

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Henry took off his clothes and got into the bed on the other side. He then raped me. I struggled to keep his penis out of my bottom.

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Henry said, ‘Why are you giving me a hard time?'

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He reached over to the side table and took up a small container of Vaseline. Henry smeared it on the opening of my bottom.

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He entered in and out with his penis until he ejaculated. Afterwards, he took a cloth and wiped up his sperm, then rolled over onto his side and went to sleep.

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I laid there all night looking through the window at the night sky.

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In the morning, Henry said, 'Here is your breakfast. It is fried eggs, sausages, beans with toast and a cup of tea. Be quick and eat it because I must take you back to your mother. If you say anything to her about what happened here, I will kill you with my powers.'

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I was frightened by his boast. But I noticed that I had changed. I was not the same child that entered Henry's home.

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Violated by a leader in my mother's church. He is a person that the church trusted.

2

I played with the grey plastic knights in the living room, striking the castle like a great warrior king leading his knights to save the princess.

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It mirrored the longing for affection from my mother, who did not know of my guilty conscience that kept a shameful secret.

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It was more profound than the games that I played with my toys. I desired the security of my mother's love and nurturing after that terrible night but could not bring myself to share with her what happened at Henry's apartment.

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I was too afraid to tell her. More so, the lack of understanding that we were poor, and my mother had to work to sustain us did not register in my restless mind.

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Not knowing that I was experiencing abandonment issues, I blamed myself for the lack of intimacy with my mother.

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I would look out the window, looking for my mother while trying to find things to occupy my mind.

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I would get bored with playing the same games each day while the feelings of resentment crept under the door that I kept shut to my emotions.

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I felt afraid that people might find out about the rape. So, I withdrew from intimacy and developed a perverse mind through soft pornography, which became an