My eyes flutter open, dried crust blurring my vision. I try unsuccessfully to get rid of the thick, pasty saliva in my mouth, but only wince when my lips crack. I taste blood.
It's dark. Matter of fact, it's pitch black. Where the hell am I? The air's heavy, stale, I can't feel a breeze or any air circulation whatsoever but it's cold. The kind of cold that permeates deep into your bones and leaves you shivering from the inside out.
The makeshift cot I was sleeping on was nothing more than a tattered, damp mattress, barely shielding me from the stone floor.
Stone floor? Seriously, where the hell am I?
Wow you seriously don't remember?
I pause. A kid's voice. No, not a kid. Maybe a teenager. Who said that? I look around in confusion, although I'm pretty sure there's no one else here. My eyes adjust to the lack of light and I'm somewhat able to confirm that I'm alone.
"Hello?" I whisper, and even then, my voice cracks. Damn, how long was I out for?
Haha you're a fucking idiot.
What the fuck?
"Uh... who's there?"
It hurts to talk. I'm thirsty as hell. My stomach grumbles in protest to remind me it still exists and has been neglected.
I hear a sigh.
No wonder you got caught, you're a dumbass. There's no one else here but you.
I frown in confusion. What the fuck...
... do I mean when I say you're alone here? What don't you understand about that?
Mocking laughter. He can read my mind. Is that even possible?
Another sigh.
No, idiot. You're talking to yourself.
What? What is this guy talking about? There's no way...
... I'm talking to myself, I'm not crazy, I'm a... What do you do for a living anyway?
Goddammit he did it again. How is he finishing my sentences like that? And why does he sound so smug when he asked what I do for a living? I've been a...
Shit. What do I do for a living? And more importantly, where the fuck am I?
Hahaha. I'd let this go on just for entertainment's sake but stupidity gets boring after awhile. You really don't remember, do you?
No...
His third sigh. He's pissing me off. Fucking smug piece of...
Hey hey hey watch your mouth there fella. You'll be shit outta luck without my help right now.
Help? What help? All you've been doing is insult me!
Oh really? Did you even notice that you haven't been talking?
My rebuttal got caught in my throat... or mind rather. He was right. My mouth hasn't been moving. Telepathy?
Oh. My. God. Fucking idiot. No. I'm you. You're me. Well, we were the same person until you snapped.
Snapped?
Yeah. Snapped. Like a dry tree branch in the dead of winter. Snapped. Went kaput. Broken. Irreparable. Capiche?
Me or not, this kid was irritating.
Shut the fuck up. If it weren't for you we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.
How the fuck is it my fault? I don't even know what this situation is!
Exactly, that's your problem. You're not aware. You should have known you'd get caught.
Caught? What are you talking about?
Uh, you really don't know where you are? Really? Really really?
I stay quiet.
Another goddamn sigh.
So you don't remember anything about an axe?
No.
And you don't remember Christmas dinner with your family? Your wife and your unborn child? Your parents and in-laws?
Christmas? Oh is that why it's so cold?
Fucking dumbass. I'm shaking my head in disbelief at your stupidity, FYI.
Then where the fuck am I?
Jail, stupid.
Then, from nowhere, violent images of bloodshed flash before my eyes. Beige walls painted with bright red; blood camouflaged with the red decorations on the Christmas tree; a large tablecloth patterned like a cow but a deep crimson red replaced all the black.
Movement everywhere, inaudible screams, dull sound of bones being crushed, a head flies across the room. The head spins and spins and spins. My wife's dead, reproachful eyes staring at me, accusing me, berating me.
An axe slams down into something. Wrenched out from another body, and at the other end of the axe, holding it with the wide open smile of a madman... me.
Oh my god...
You finally remember?
I... I did all that?
No shit sherlock.
No, no, no way, I wouldn't do that. I'm...
A derisive laugh.
You're what? You barely remember who you are.
But why? I woulda had no reason to.
Ignorance is bliss, are you sure you want to know?
I hesitate.
Just so you know, you're not just in jail. This is deathrow. You got a few hours left before you're sent to Ol' Sparky.
The electric chair? Yeah right, they stopped using that years ago. Lethal injection is how they do it now.
Yeah, so they tell the populace haha. Trust me, when you were knocked out, I've heard the screams, I've smelled the singed, melting flesh. No syringe does that.
My heart races, I try to swallow my saliva again to no avail. Goddamn I'm thirsty. I stand up and my knees almost buckle. I manage to wobble my way to the wall, and feel my way all around the room. I bump my knee painfully into a metal stool attached to a small desk, stumble a little, curse, but still make it to the door and try to open it.
Locked.
Duh.
Shut up.
Still want to know why?
That smug tone again.
Yeah...
Remember that unborn child of yours?
I nod.
Remember your wife's coworker Peter?
I nod again.
Stop nodding, I know you remember. Well, a long story short, that was his unborn child. You really don't remember this? You found the DNA test in your wife's purse for God's sake.
And again, images of my past flash before my eyes and realization dawns. All of my repressed emotions emerging all at once, the frustration, anger, hate, disappointment... The sense of betrayal, the intolerable feeling of powerlessness.
The fear. The fear of losing what I loved. The fear of losing who I was. The fear of being a nobody. The fear of being alone. The fear of failing. The fear.
That's right buddy. But you were an idiot. Instead of running from the crime scene, you locked yourself in your closet cradling your wife's clothes, what a pussy. This is all your fault...
Shut up.
I don't wanna be electrocuted man, I'm too young to die now...
Shut the FUCK up.
Hahaha. But I'm here to help.
No you're not.
Okay fine, go get electrocuted then.
... are you saying you know a way out?
Told you I was trying to help.
Now he sounds like he was sulking. I'm pretty sure he's just fucking with me.
Okay, go ahead, how do I get out of this?
Hah, I knew you'd come around. First things first, reach into your pants.
What?? Fuck you, I knew you were full of shit.
Shut up asshole. When you were blacked out I took measures into my own hands. Just put your goddamn hand down your pants.
His voice changed somewhat. Didn't sound so juvenile anymore. Actually kind of sounded menacing.
My hand goes into my pants before he yells at me again. Where the fuck was he going with this? How would this help in any way po...
Then I understood right away. My hand closed in on a length of rope that he somehow managed to smuggle in here, tied around my thigh.
How did you...
Does that really matter at this point?
This is your solution? Hanging myself? You gotta be kidding.
Fine. Go get burnt to a crisp. More deep fried than Kentucky Fried Chicken and Popeye's combined. Be my guest.
A long silence.
Look, you're fucked either way. Hanging ain't pretty, but sure as hell a lot better than your alternative.
As much as I hate to admit it, he's got a fucking point. I look around my prison cell, losing hope with every second that passed. Come to think of it, even if I did manage to escape from here, what's left for me out there?
I would be a wanted fugitive, no career, no money, no family, nothing. There'd be no point. Why bother?
Reluctantly, I step on the stool and desk and search the ceiling for a nook or cranny of some sort. Surprisingly I found one. I fumble for a minute tying the noose. Shaking, I hoop it around my neck.
How did it come to this? Where did things go wrong? An overwhelming sense of guilt and regret engulfs me, and before I can chicken out, I kick the desk away.
The pressure of the rope chokes the shit out of me. My own weight crushes my windpipe, and that pain is all I can think of, until the lack of oxygen becomes a more pressing matter. My legs flail, my hands claw at my neck, controlled by survivial instinct. I somehow manage to calm myself into believing this is the best solution, that I didn't deserve anything else.
The stale, cold prison cell blurs in my vision. A few more seconds, I remind myself. But it wasn't my vision that was blurring. The actual room was shifting, changing. Am I hallucinating?
Stone walls morph into wallpaper, my posters still taped up, I see my desk flipped over on the floor, my computer monitor broken, my queen-size bed in the corner... This was my room. I wasn't married. Shit, I'm not even an adult yet, I'm a senior in highschool...
A nebulous mist exits through all my orifices and lingers in my room for a bit.
Hahaha. Fucking idiot.
No... What the fuck... what are you? Why? How? Questions without an answer. All I know is that I was deceived.
I struggle futilely. I don't wanna die. I don't needa die. I have my whole life ahead of me...
I see the mist leave the room with an ominous, cackling laughter that follows me into the abyss. Is it looking for its next victim? My eyes roll back in my head.
Brain... air... can't... think...
My last thought.
I'm... a... fucking... idiot.
