The narrator of The Tell-Tale Heart is forced to go to therapy. He thinks he's perfectly sane though.
This work is not dated. Possibly written in 2018 or when was in 8th grade. School assignment prompt:
We are a product of our environment. Write a backstory of the narrator that connects with his present day life. Where was he born? What was his childhood like? Parents? Friends? Brainstorm ideas using a bubble map - think about physical traits (scars, lisps, limps, etc.) and character traits (shy, impulsive, distrusting). Give him a name that is fitting for the 1800's(1843).
Basically, a school-sanctioned fanfic of the Tell-Tale Heart, featuring poorly-researched depictions of mental illness. According to my past self, "I've decided to present the backstory of the narrator as a continuous part of the story because I have trouble coming up with details of his life. It is written with only dialogue between the narrator and the psychiatrist."
...
What could I have done wrong? All I did was to get rid of what triggered me. I knew what I needed to do; I knew what I HAD to do. It will only come to an end when that eye is closed, forever.
"Mr. Welter, I suppose you do understand that you've commited a murder?"
Ah, yes indeed. But that was very rude of you, Mr. Alienist, still questioning me as if I'm a madman who doesn't know anything about what I have done. You should now scribble off the line that says "delusional disorder" and "possibly paranoia." You see, I'm no madman. Madmen know nothing.
"Care to talk about your past? About what happened when you were 8?"
No doubt you would ask me this. But don't you think this is unnecessary? As you probably have already conducted information about me before you came to visit. You knew about every single event in my lifetime, including how much lime peel I did love to sprinkle into that coffee and how I was the "lone wolf" all along. So why waste time hearing me say the same thing?
"I'm afraid avoidance is not the best choice for now. Or, I will assume that you are mentally disturbed and cannot admit your past."
I see. You still fancy me mad. But I'm sure you will not be once I told you how I use the sagacity of mine to survive that night.
You should have seen how quickly I hid in that closet. And there I was, frightening to death, but was— and still am— smart enough to keep quiet. I peeked through the small gap I opened, and there I saw the man with his axe looking as if he just crawled out of hell. No drunk-alcoholic man could win a fight against him. Out of terror I closed my eyes. In the shadow, I'm isolated from the outside world. Nothing outside bothers me; not even the loud pinch scream and the metallic, rusty smell in the air. I did not dare to move an inch or even breath heavily, even after the man left. Can't even feel my legs afterward. Oh, you say, how monster was I to watch my own father being slaughtered to death with no sorrow in any sense. But it was his fate. His time has come. And why SHOULD I, or anyone, feel sorry for him?
I can still recall the way he looked at me… even after he's stone dead his eyes were still not closed. Those evil, nasty, blue eyes like vultures stared straight into my soul like I was a piece of rotten meat not even worth eating...YES! It was the same eye that the old man had. But different! And yet the same! It is everywhere… no, it was everywhere, in school, on streets, and in my sleep...
"Mr. Welter?"
… Yes?
"Here's a cup of water for you to keep you calm while I tell you what I know about your past. Correct me if I made any mistake."
"Your mother left your family when you were three, because your father's alcoholic and has violent tendencies. There is a possibility that he has a mental illness and cannot control his emotion. You were sent to a textile mill and is the only financial income of your family. Your father tried gambling that resulted in him owning huge debt. You were abused, but nevertheless still alive. After your father's death you were taken under Ellsworth Allan's care, who's a wealthy merchant; though never formally adopted, which is why you are still called Winston Welter not Winston Allan. This year you were sent to live with Larkin Gride (the old man) as his caretaker."
"Also, did I forget to mention that records have shown that at the age of 17 you attacked a shopkeeper who you've never met before until then? My hypothesis is that you lose control of your emotion, and your sanity-"
YOU! You knew it all along, don't you? Yes... I should have guessed it! I don't need your pity, or your mockery! My acute senses taught me and guided me what to do. I listen but do not obey. How dare you call me insane, comparing ME to HIM. I'm not like him… you see, my emotions, they are mine! My sagacity and foresight are NOTHING that he will ever have. You are the villain all along, just like them! You villains, dissimulate no more!