Eternal Slumber
As the sun rose early in the morning I still remained on the floor, kneeling, still contemplating what I’d done. My heart had slowed down but my mind could not control itself. Many things crossed my mind and I was overcome with emotions I struggled to contain.
I let a deep breath out without realizing that I’d been holding it in. Relief washed over me as I realized what this meant. It was over. Finally I was free. After so many years of hiding I could finally escape.
A startling though crossed my mind as I realized what would happen once everyone found out what I’d done. The calm feeling was soon replaced by panic. I had to leave!
Nothing would ever be the same after this. I could never go back to my bedroom. The broken mirror would always remind me of how fragile I’d been all these years. The scratches on the headboard would always haunt me. The clutter all over the floor would never let me forget. Even after I cleaned it up I would still remember where everything had been. I was petrified by the idea of returning to that room.
No, I had to leave – today – if not, I would forever tremble as I walked down the hallway that lead to the stairs. I could still hear the dragging sound through the corridors. It started at the bedroom but ceased at the beginning of the staircase.
They weren’t the same either. The banister was gone and the wood creaked beneath my feet. With each step I took I could feel the wood threatening to collapse when I least expected it. The walls, covered in stains that could be washed off but never erased, would never allow me to forget.
My head started pounding as the voices, that had remained a quiet whisper, grew louder. Memories flooded every corner of the house, of the room, of my mind. If I stayed, I would have to listen to the whispers forever. They would taunt me, they would never let this go, and they would push, and push, and push until I did something crazy. Although at this point nothing seemed too crazy to me.
At last my mind snapped back to reality, the voices vanished, and I realized what I’d done. Terror overwhelmed me. What had I done?! I swear I didn’t mean to.
The voices, they wouldn’t stop, they forced me to do it. They convinced me that it would be the end but if that had really been true, then why was I still seeing him? He smiled at me, not a loving smile but one that sent chills down my spine. He looked at me with those eyes and I froze, but love was not the reason why I stood petrified.
I saw him, and my son. My poor son, he got the worst part of this deal, or maybe, just maybe, he got the best. The thought of my son calmed me down but soon enough other thoughts snuck into my mind without a warning. I remember exactly what I did, it was so clear. The worst part? I remember I liked it. I enjoyed it. The power shift had been exhilarating. I wanted him to suffer, he deserved it! I remember I smiled – I laughed as I did it!
He asked for it, it was his fault, really. He was a despicable man. I was glad he was gone but I wasn’t sure he really was. I could still hear his voice, his footsteps all over the house, his cold hands touching me. The thought of him disgusted me more than the reality of what I’d done.
Oh but my poor son, I couldn’t take him with me. I couldn’t take care of him, not while that man still followed me around, not while I still heard the voices. I couldn’t make them go away anymore, and I couldn’t run from them either.
The voices, the hallucinations, I couldn’t turn them off anymore. I couldn’t run fast or far enough from them, so I finally stopped running. After years of drowning them out, I finally caved and listened. At the time it made sense. I mean, it would be over and I could start again and Johnny, my son, would be better off.
However, the voices didn’t stop there. They screamed at me to stand up and then forced me into the kitchen. I stood there screaming and throwing plates, pots, and pans all over. I asked them – no, I begged them to stop, but they didn’t. They kept pushing until the silence that had filled the house disappeared and turned into insufferable screaming.
They all screamed at me and I listened.
“Fine, is that what you want? Well you’ll get your wish!” I screamed back.
I went to one of the drawers and pulled out the sharpest object I could find and that’s how I made them stop. Then and there the voices and the visions stopped once and for all. I had found the cure for my pain, for my disease. I had found the cure for schizophrenia in death. The answer to the riddle I had tried answering all my life was so obvious and it was finally clear: death, eternal slumber.
The last thing I did before I left was write a letter to my son Johnny. On a blank piece of paper and in shaky hand writing, I’d written what I leave here with you today:
Johnny forgive me but it had to be done: all of it. Now you are free to be normal, happy, and alive. My final gift to you is to set you free from the cage he trapped me in for so many years. This was not the life I wanted for you and now I have given you a choice. You get to choose who you are and will never live in the fear that I did. Johnny, I have set you free.
Johnny never got my letter, he never cried for me, he didn’t attend the funeral, he never even thought of me, and he was never alone because in the end an unexpected answer came to me: he wasn’t real.
My dear, sweet boy had always been a vision, someone to keep me company, comfort me, and love me. I now know for sure that Johnny had always been a part of my disease, but to this day I still wonder if I actually committed the atrocity that had haunted me and led me to death or if in the end, nothing had ever been real.
