Late-Onset Paranoid Schizophrenia (LOPS)

I caught up on my paperwork today. I was slightly behind.

There’s a lot of time to think when you’re writing. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the first thing I thought about was writing. Sometimes I like to fantasise about leaving the force and trying again as a writer but it wouldn’t be fantasising if I actually thought about it seriously. I’ve accepted that I’m just not good enough to be a published writer. Perhaps I was foolish to invest myself so much in English literature. If I’d read more Russian literature, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck with an inability to write adequately in either of the two languages I speak.

From there, my mind wandered to journalism and from there to Vasily’s impressive suppression of the Nikitin case and from there to Nikitin. Nikitin, thin, wirey and animalistic, sitting in the darkness of the interrogation room, grinning like a jackal and laughing like a hyena. Saying those words.

I’ve tried not to think about it, the shadow and how it swelled behind him, brimming with anger as it filled the room. The blank, white face illuminated by the light from my phone.

It can’t have been real. It was just my paranoia slipping further. Nikitin must have been able to tell I was seeing things. He was just taunting me. I think I need to go see a psychologist.

I think I’m developing my father’s illness.