Klei's Backstory Pt. 3

Then this time, it was my brother, Reginald, getting interviewed. The previous one was my father Rey. Although this time, my brother had his identity anonymous for the interview inside a pitch-black room that denies any image of his face.

He did this to protect his new family with his new wife and daughter from being exposed and known as to have relations with a serial killer.

"So, Reginald, your brother, Klei. Excuse me, he killed those young men at the bar, right? And you are aware of this, correct?" asked the interviewer.

"Yes, I am aware." My brother answered.

"What was he like as a child?"

"He was happy, charming, cheerful, very introverted. He liked sweets, but now he's addicted to coffee."

"Are you aware he was also an online author?"

"Yes, I knew. He was proud of it too. He was narcissistic about it as well."

"I see. Can you tell me about his books?"

"His first approved published book was all about vampires. I didn't know what made him obsessed with vampires. I took him out to a vampire movie one time when he was 9. I think it was Twilight. I liked the movie, but he didn't.

When he told me about his book when I mentioned it. He told me his horrendous life with his ex was a better love story than Twilight. Despite him being so delusional about being a vampire. He always drinks his own blood. I was shocked when I first knew this and, in fact, he's been doing it for years now. That explains the obsession of vampires.

I didn't really know what's up with the taste of blood. I think it's disgusting to do that to yourself, but he often cuts himself to drink his own fluids more than he usually cuts himself because of depression. I never thought he was crazy. I just thought it was because the pills made him act this way.

I'm no psychology expert, but I am a nurse. I didn't get to study psychology as much in my field during college. But what I know is that pills can make you worse if you didn't actually need it, but the psychiatrist wanted money so badly she had to give him antipsychotics when he never mentioned having any psychotic symptoms. He was just depressed.

But sooner, he started to act manipulative, he started to fake cry, he started acting so selfish, he changed over the course of a year, he uses everyone he sees just for money and cigarettes, even worse, he would even do drugs and drink heavily on alcohol."

"How did you actually come to you just so he can ask for professional help?"

"Well…"

***

February 2013

"Do you hear voices?" asked the psychiatrist

"No, but I don't feel like I'm in reality." I answered honestly, "It feels like I'm not even inside my own body at all, it just feels like nothing is real… When I'm with my friends I'm super hyper and happy, but when I'm all alone, I'm sad and can't explain how intense the sadness is."

"You have bipolar disorder, Klei. I will give you antipsychotics for the way you feel, like nothing is real. I will give you antidepressants for your 'sadness' and mood stabilisers to keep your hyperactivity managed."

"Does he really need these medicines, doctor?" my brother looked at her in a skeptical way, "He's not crazy, he's just depressed. Isn't there any other way?"

"No, he must drink these. Lexapro once during lunch time, Quetiapine three times a day, after breakfast, lunch, and before bed. Prozac, twice a day, after breakfast and before bedtime, Valproate twice a day, after breakfast and lunch time, and Rivotrill before bed."

"That's a lot." I said,

"Yes, but it's crucial and necessary for your better mental health."

"I'm not crazy, am I?"

"No, of course not. You just need to take these pills and you'll feel better sooner than you'd expect."

My brother intruded into the conversation and asked, "How long will he be cured?"

"Only time will tell."

Back to the interview…

Reginald kept on talking, "The medications caused more than the doctor's fee, we could even barely eat, but the doctor said they're very important, but the more days he took them, the worse he got. Fast forward, it was around 2016, Klei asked me to ask a psychologist as a second option instead since the psychiatrist is different.

He heard online that a psychologist gives actual therapy that doesn't involve medicines so we could save up more, I can tell he's the smartest kid I know, I promise you no one is smarter than Klei."

"Go on…"

2016

"He needs to stop the medicines." My big brother, Reginald, strongly suggested this to my psychologist.

"I think that will be for the best. It's making him worse. He's not all that bad at taking these medications. He doesn't need it. All he needs is some cognitive-behavioural therapy."

My dad objected and said, "No, he slowly stopped drinking and doing drugs and partying with his friends past midnight after he started taking them again. When he got better, I thought he didn't need it anymore until he just snapped again."

"Then he needs to take them. That would be final." My psychologist agreed with him. While looking at my brother, I felt the disappointment in his face.

29th July 2015

I invited everyone to my birthday party where we could all drink and smoke cigarettes all night at my house from my school. They all grinned at me and said they will. I felt inspired by their smiles giving me joy because I knew it would be a fun party.

I saved up a lot of money just to buy all this beer, the gin bottle that's only for me, lots of snacks and spaghetti, I even bought my favourite Skrillex album to play for the party, I had drinks ready, I had a rim of cigarettes packed up at the table for everyone to smoke so they don't have to waste their money, I prepared everything for everyone! But the problem is, I waited all night, and no one came.

I started to feel more depressed by the hour, but I kept on hoping. By 3 AM I still kept waiting where my dad woke up and said to me, "You didn't even touch your drink yet."

"No one came… dad."

"Can I drink with you?"

"Sure."

I started to feel emotional. I don't know why, but when my own father joined me for a drink for my birthday party, I never felt so grateful in my whole life. We started talking as if we were just bros chilling with a beer in hand but I had gin, I ate all the spaghetti and snacks and smoked all the packs of cigarettes and had myself got drunk too easily where I started to puke as he got up and patted my back and rubbed it.

"Go take a shower, Klei. I'll clean everything up here. And go to bed afterwards, okay?"

I vomited even more, then looked up to him and said, "Okay, dad…"

Then I just took a shower and just passed out on the bed after.

The next morning… I was crying. And I don't know why…