The Ghost of Akron, Ohio

I am an old man. My profession of many years brought me into contact with some of the most interesting and troubled people of our of city.

For years I had an office in an old Presbyterian church on Archwood Avenue. It had been abandoned when the congregation moved to a new building on the edge of town. The church board donated the building to my practice. We turned it into a clinic- The Archwood Center of Hope. I worked there as a psychiatrist with a small staff of mental health workers for 30 years.

I listened and offered advice to my patients but mostly I listened as few mentally ill people ever take advice and even those who do don’t for long.

The southeast section of Akron, over the last 30 years has been ravished by opioid addiction. I’ll spare you the depressing observations and statistics. If you’ve read the news, you know how awful the overdose problem is in this part of the country. But during my practice the community also had an abnormally large number of cases of schizophrenia and, it’s less sensory based cousin, delusional disorders.

We provided a variety of treatments, mostly anti-psychotic medications, benzodiazepines, some ECT at the hospital, and in the last few years this new EMDR or tapping treatment. But as I mentioned we did a lot of listening.

As the years went by it seemed to me that for the most part, my patient’s outcomes were fixed. I grew cynical and expected tragedy or next to no progress. And mostly what I expected came about.

If I couldn’t change my patient’s fate, I could listen. So listened. Sometimes that’s all I did. But I held no illusion that the listening I did was some kind of cure. No. In fact I sometimes thought everything we did in our clinic was, as I look back, probably as much a fiction as our patient’s delusions and deliriums.

But the case that I’m about to describe in many ways undid my cynical outlook. Perhaps our destinies can be reconfigured. Perhaps odious, self destructive acts, as maligned as they seem, are the only path some have to redemption.

The story I relate involves a young man and woman both at that stage in life when our nature urges us to leave home and move out into the world- to launch our own lives. For the mentally ill, and their families, this is a particularly fragile time, one fraught with far more than the usual challenges with which they must contend.

Ariel and Edward had been friends throughout high school until just before their graduation when a tragic event would seemingly separate them forever.

It was said that Edward, who I never met, was mostly a loner, except for his friendship with Ariel, who, a year after the tragic event, would become my patient.

I learned that Edward was studious, had a quick though gentle wit and the ability to see through to the essence of a problem and resolve it. While shy he could be direct and funny. He made Ariel laugh. He was clever she told me. He finished first in his class at Edmonds High School.

He’d been raised by his father, though he’d really raised himself. His mother passed away a few months after she had given birth to Edward. Her death was never fully explained. She was found peacefully lying lifeless, on the sofa in their small apartment one Sunday afternoon. There was no evidence of foul play.

Edward’s father, Joseph, a veteran of the first Iraq war, just 21, never recovered from the loss of his wife. Not long after her death he had his first psychotic break. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, he worked odd jobs that he couldn’t keep and eventually received small monthly disability payments. His sister drove him up to the VA hospital in Cleveland once a month. Throughout Edward’s childhood his father was in and out of psychiatric facilities.

At one point Joseph received a moderate inheritance and bought a house on a busy intersection across from an empty industrial park at Archwood and Kelly. It was an oversized house for their needs. Edward had an upstairs bedroom, his father stayed downstairs.

As you might expect their relationship was troubled. Edward’s father believed an evil spirit lived in the attic. He wrote letters to the spirit, made a bed of old sheets and pillows in the small hallway at the bottom of the stairway entry to the attic and slept there most nights. He slept there, he said, to protect his son from the evil spirit. Throughout Edward’s childhood his father would leave for days and live on the street. Even as a young boy he would go out looking for his dad on the streets. Often he’d find him huddled in a corner in the abandoned truck depot across the street, mumbling incoherently. Edward would gently guide him home and feed and bathe him.

Edward’s caretaking deepened as he got older but so did his resentment and desire to leave home. He planned to go to Ohio State in the fall with Ariel after they graduated from high school. But shortly before his graduation ceremony Edward’s father had found a love letter his son had written to Ariel in which Edward had sweetly extolled the joy of their having shared a first kiss just the previous weekend. The note triggered a paranoid break. His father believed his son had been inhabited by the evil spirit he’d fought so hard to protect him from. His son was tainted.

Edward lost his patience with his father and for one of the few times in his life he raised his voice. “I’m leaving. You’re crazy. Fucking crazy dad. I can’t take it anymore. I going off to college soon and I’m never coming back.”

Edward recounted this episode the last time he spoke to Ariel.

The night before his high school graduation ceremony his father murdered his son by hanging him from a rafter in their attic.

I met Ariel one year after Edward’s murder.

She was nineteen at the time. She lived in Columbus, where she’d moved to go to Ohio State. She came back to Akron regularly to check on her mom. The day we met at my office she was in a terrible state. Her clothes were dirty and torn, her forehead was bandaged from a large cut that had not healed, her hair was unkempt, her cheeks pale, her lips cracked and swollen. She had rings of dirt in the lines of her neck.

She was confused and non sensical at times, quick to anger, then teary, then loud and aggressive, then as silent as a stone. It took some time for her to settle herself before she could speak in a coherent manner.

“Yes, I loved Edward Murphy who was killed by his father because he kissed me. Fucker. I went to Ohio State.” she started.

“I went to get away from this town. I never moved into a dorm. …wouldn’t do that. Hated the idea of living with other students. They knew what had happened. They knew about Edward. I didn’t attend one class. I was going to study environmental science. What a joke. I used the money I had to move into a single room in an old apartment building near the highway.”

“I drank every night. There were a couple of bars nearby. Dives. I drank every night. I drank screwdrivers. I drank whatever was served me. One night a guy sat down next to me and bought me a couple of drinks. He didn’t say much but asked if I wanted to go out back. I said ‘yes.’ Out back he pushed me up against a brick wall, yanked my jeans and panties down and fucked me. His cock was really long, thin, an hard. He fucked me right there. People could see. They watched. It was crude. It hurt. But a light went off in my brain. I’m telling you… his cock, his semen turned out to be like a heroin injection. I was hooked on cock. I couldn’t tell you why but I couldn’t stop myself. Every night I was out. Every night I hunted for a guy who’d fuck me, who’d come back to my little apartment and fuck me.”

I never made interpretations of my patients behaviors but I was curious how a young bright woman could take such a sudden dive into such debauchery. Yes, she had lost the love of her young life but there must be more to the story.

“The rougher the sex, the better. If their cock was so big that it hurt. Good.” And with this she pumped her fist in the air three times.

“I liked to be hurt. I’m sure you know what that means doc. Yes? No? Say something. What does that mean? Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what it means to you. It’s best I just listen,” I said.

Ariel mumbled under her breath and then went on.

“I liked guys who liked to tie me up and fuck me or make me give them a rim job, that means lick their butthole in case you didn’t know. One guy tried to put his whole fist in my cunt.”

She went on with a pressured dramatic flair as if to impress upon the awfulness of her behavior. When I finally interrupted to ask how she was sheltering herself and getting food, she stared at me for a moment and then, ignoring my questions said, “I don’t know why I’m talking with you doc. There’s nothing wrong with me. I just love dick. I love men who want to use me, who just want my cunt. That’s what I love.”

Several times I must have betrayed my stoic approach and winced. She was a bright and beautiful young woman and she was throwing herself to the wolves. She wouldn’t last. She’d end up in the river or in a dumpster behind a strip mall. I was relieved to see her every time she came in, relieved she’d lived another week.

Session after session I listened. I had no idea why she returned. I refrained from judgement. I was aware of the traumatic loss she suffered the night of her graduation. I’d read the story several tines and examined the public records of Edward’s father’s trial and eventual commitment.

I was curious what had happened to Ariel in the time just after Edwards murder but before she got to Ohio State. The story came out suddenly in one session after she’d finished describing a rather brutal bondage experience she’d endured.

“You know doc, I don’t think I ever told you what happened after Edward’s murder. I haven’t told anyone. But just a week after Edward was had died I was out for a midnight walk. I couldn’t sleep. It seemed I hadn’t slept for days.”

“I found myself standing in front of his house. I must have gotten lost or it seems maybe I blacked out but there I stood staring at his house in the pitch black night. It was cool and drizzling. I looked up at his window. I fixed my eyes on it. Then suddenly a light came on and I swore I saw a figure go past the window. I wasn’t scared. I was just the opposite. I was sure it was him. It must be him. My Edward was alive. I ran to the back of the house and went in through a basement window that I knew had been unlocked and made my way to his bedroom.”

“The room was dark. I didn’t have my phone or anything to light the room. I called out his name several times thinking that perhaps he was hiding and needed to know it was me who was there. I waited and said his name again and again but he never came.”

“Eventually I laid down on his bed and must have drifted off. I was awoken suddenly and violently by a large hooded figure who quickly over powered me and pinned me face down on the bed. He yanked down my leggings and pulled them off. He took me like a male dog does. He mounted me. I froze. I knew I was going to die and something in me said, ‘be still, it will be easier if you’re still.’ It was my first time. He was enormous. The pain was too great. I screamed out but his huge hand muffled my scream. He thrust in and out madly. Diabolically. Like he was trying to gut me with his cock.”

Ariel broke into a chilling chaotic laugh.

“It was Edward’s father. His father raped me a week after he’d hung his son. They’d let him into his house that morning to collect one suitcase of his belongings and that happened to be the morning I was there alone sleeping in Edward’s bed. He raped me.”

She paused for a breath and looked at me.

“I blame myself. Really, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have been in the house.”

I started to offer solace, to remind her, he was a sick sick man, and to insist that it wasn’t her fault. But I refrained. Sometimes a women who’s been assaulted needs to blame herself to feel in control. She tells herself it was her fault and thus it was in her power to prevent it. I said nothing.

I didn’t see Ariel for a few months and when our sessions resumed she had moved back to Akron. She worked at topless bars near the highway, on the opposite side of the abandoned industrial park near Edward’s home and continually reported incidents of destructive and dangerous sexual encounters.

“I know you want me to stop the sex” she said at one session, “but I tell you I can’t . The other night I had two men. I was on my hands and knees with both behind me. I made them go back and forth, switching out, one in me then the other, until one came inside me and then the other. I love feeling a man erupt in me. I love that relentless male power it’s really the greatest power in the whole world. Male power makes the world go round. Always has and always will. You know I think the whole purpose of the female is to absorb that power, to transform it.”

I couldn’t help but ask. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head looking at me as if I’d never understand.

“You know I’ve fucked over a hundred men and never once did I or they use any protection. In fact, I won’t let a man fuck me wearing a condom. I want his juice. I want his white, salty cum as far up my hole as possible. It’s why I like big dicks but I like any dick that enters me bareback. I’d tell these guys either you cum in my cunt, that is, you unload your little semen in my pussy or there’s the door. Leave. I’d do anal but I’d push them out if I knew they were getting close and stuff their cock in my pussy. I’d suck on a guy’s cock too but always stop them before they came. More than a couple of guys, those pre ejaculators, couldn’t help themselves and I’d have to spit their sperm into my hand and stuff it up inside me with my fingers.”

“You know why? You know why I wanted every man to cum in me? Because I wanted a child. I thought that was the one thing that could save me, the one thing that could make up for everything that’s happened. A child.”

I nodded. This was one of the only signs of hope I’d heard her utter. In her own maligned and distorted way she was aiming for love.

“But I’ve never conceived. Not once. My cycle is always right on time. My egg is right there, every month ready to merge with a sperm. I know my ovulation cycle better that an astrologist knows the position of the planets and I get fucked by lots of guys right when it’s the right time of month. But I’ve never been pregnant, not once. I’ve visited three fertility clinics around the state and they all have said I should have no problem conceiving.”

“What is strange too, is that for all the hundreds of dicks I’ve had bareback and deep in my ripe little vagina I’m as clean down there as a whistle. Never have I got crabs, lice, warts, syphilis or anything. I test for HEV twice a month. Always negative. My pussy is as clean and fresh an untouched virgin’s.”

I doubted he story but of course I didn’t say anything. It was a long time, several months before I saw her again. The next time she came in for her session she was elevated and more talkative than usual.

“I have to tell you the whole story doc. It began last October, at the end of the month. I’d been having dreams. I knew something was coming. I took Johnny by Edward’s house on Saturday. Johnny is a regular. He plays rough and leaves my hole well soaked with his thick drizzle. I keep hoping he’s the one who could give me what I want. Anyway. We parked in the driveway. I pointed to Edward’s window. I told him to watch because Edward would turn on a light in his room. He didn’t believe me so we sat and watched but nothing happened. Johnny wanted to go in. I wasn’t sure but I thought ‘what the fuck.’ We got in through the basement window and went up to Edward’s room. He wanted to fuck me and of course I was up for that. When he entered me it felt different. By different I mean really really good. So good I came right away. But I could feel him get softer as he tried to push in. That wasn’t like Johnny. He was always rock hard. But he got so soft he eventually slipped out. I asked what was wrong and he said he didn’t know. He said he just couldn’t do it.”

“Still despite his inability to give me the milk I needed I felt really good. Something was different.”

“The next night I brought Little Ray to Edward’s house. I call him Little Ray because he is little. I make him keep his little penis in a locked cock cage. I keep the two keys. When we’re not together he can’t get a hard on and cum. He has to wait to save up his semen and then deposit his big load in me. He’s always roaring to go and nice and hard once I let him out of that cage. But like with Johnny, when little Ray put his dick in me the next night I had another orgasm right away. But in less than a minute little Ray slipped out softer than a marshmallow. I milked him until he shot his load in the palm of my hand. I rubbed into my pussy. And again. I came almost instantly.”

“The next night I went to Edward’s house alone, laid on his bed and played with my clit and had one orgasm after another. I was spent doc. But I didn’t want to fall asleep so I got up and when I set my phone on his dresser top I saw, written in the thick dust…

Tomorrow night. Meet me. Lovers and Inman.

“The next night was Halloween- the night of the dead. Right. People put a place setting at their dinner table for loved ones who have passed. Right? Of course I planned to go. I figured I should go right at sunset in costume. I put on my bad schoolgirl costume I’d worn to the last Halloween party Edward and I had gone to. I wore bobbie socks, a white blouse, no bra of course, I don’t need to tell you that, a very short skirt, no underwear, because you know I love my bare cunt under a short skirt because it’s like walking around naked and makes it easy for a guy to just take me. I combed my hair. Good, right doc? You like good hygiene, right. But probably not so much that I put it in girly pigtails. Unless maybe you’re into that kind of thing.”

“I got to Lovers and Inman and, there he was, alone, standing against the building dressed as the Riddler. It was him. I knew it. He had dressed as the Riddler at the last Halloween party I told you about. He’d made up all kinds of riddles that he expected me to guess that night and I guessed some. There he was.”

“I touched his shoulder. He was cold. It was a warm night. But he was cool. He turned to me. I asked if he’d left the address on the dresser but he didn’t respond. I could see nothing of his face because of the mask. He did not speak but took my hand. We walked towards Edward’s house. He led. He knew the way as if he’d done it hundreds of times. He opened the front door and let me in. We went to Edward’s bedroom. He undressed me. I stood naked in front of him trembling like it was my first time. I wanted him to see me but his mask concealed his entire face. He gently turned me around and pressed me down without any trace of force, which I was glad for from him. He moved me onto my hands and knees. He stood up behind me.”

“I heard him unzip himself. In moments he had penetrated me. I felt entranced. I heard music. He had a rhythm that rocked me as if we were slow dancing on a castle balcony in moonlight and though he was large and hadn’t used any lube, he slid into me as if we were meant to be joined together like puzzle pieces that had been lost and now fit together to complete the picture. Of all the sex I’d had it was the best moment of sex I’d ever had. I came once, then again, and again. Then he came. He gently pulled my hips back while his torso came forward locking us together. I felt his seed being pumped into me. It was though I were receiving him, being anointed. He never made a sound or uttered a word. When he pulled out a profuse deposit of his cum gushed from me as if I’d used a douche. It soaked the mattress. I collapsed and lay face down for just a few seconds. I’d hoped he’d removed his mask. I felt happy. Very happy. My cunt had brought me the man I needed. My cunt, my pussy, my dear clit and vagina had saved me.”