Paranoiac

by Attikus Absconder

  You know how I knew you would find this? Or how I would know that you would read this? It’s all because you can’t help yourself and that’s a fact. You are obsessed with stories, mysteries and your own misery. I’ve watched you cautiously walk around this house, chasing me, chasing those notes. I can see your hesitation but more importantly I can see your excitement. To tell the truth, you almost had me convinced that you had given up. You looked so defeated but like any junkie I knew you couldn’t resist. All you needed was a tiny, little, minuscule push.

  I’m sure you have so many questions like, “How did I get here?” or “Where is everyone?” and more importantly, “Who is playing games with me? Who is taunting and torturing me? Why is this swine doing this?” Well Isaac, I’m not going to tell you. Not because I won’t or because I’m playing cat and mouse with you. I’m not telling because I’m pretty sure you already know, just like how you remembered Molly. Beautiful, loving, trusting Molly. The girl you refused to remember. The girl who broke your heart. The girl who, through thick and thin, stayed your friend.

  If you refused to remember sweet, black-haired Moll, then what else and who else are you blocking out? What about those blackouts Isaac? Doesn’t it seem strange how natural those blackouts feel to you? I bet you’ve had them since you were a kid. You would escape into reality, escape into those paintings with your poor emaciated, dying mother, all so you could escape your violent, egomaniacal father.

  Are the memories you hold dear even true? Are you lying to yourself so whole-heartedly that you believe those cheap lies? What a life you must live. A life built to make you a martyr. A life sustained on depressing, rotten memories and self-depreciation. Well... that I know you are aware of. What I don’t get Isaac is why you refuse to remember and continue to trust your “memories”. If you thrive on the negative shouldn’t you idolize your terrible deeds, experiences and recollections of the past? Oh Isaac. My poor shell of a man. My wicked little liar.

  If you’re smart you’ll run from here. Drive as fast you can back into that delusional existence of yours.

  But if you want to face the truth and find your answers, you know where to find me.

  The already tiny shed started to shrink around me. I couldn’t breathe. My god I can’t breathe! Everything was spinning out of control. It was too overwhelming. It went on and on and on and on and on. He didn’t know shit about me! He doesn’t know what I’ve been through and he really doesn’t know shit about Molly! The nerve of this deceiver. He lies and lies trying to drive me insane. I was crazed and furious at this moronic maniac, pacing back and forth again, the world around me still shrinking. The shed was still spinning out of control. I was seeing flashes of Molly repeatedly. I wanted to disappear, to escape from everything. Why didn’t I leave when I had the chance? How does that bastard know so much about me, my past and present? None of this makes any sense and the world around me is falling apart.

  The spinning slowed to a sudden stop. The inside of the shed went back to its normal size. Dropping to my knees, I vomited all over the floor. I was so nauseous and tired of whatever all of this was. I just wanted to stop existing, to, in the blink of an eye, fade from history. The smell of sick filled the shed and I sat there lamenting on a loop. I was a mess of snot, tears and bile. My brain just couldn’t comprehend the letter. Every time I tried to focus on the gritty details my mind would draw a blank. The solutions were standing right in front of me but I kept looking right past them. My mind was stretched too far is all, at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

  Spitting out the bile that stagnated inside my mouth, I stood up and grabbed some new clothes off the workbench. I took off my shirt and wiped crudely at the filth clinging to my face and torso. Rubbing at my skin angrily and compulsively, it chaffed raw but I took pleasure in the stinging pain.

  The shed was quiet and thanks to me it smelled of something sour and awful. Feeling numb I stood in front of a tool covered wall and put on a fresh olive-green button up shirt. There were dozens of immaculately organized tools pinned to the wall. The amount of obsessive compulsive disorder oozing from these walls were incalculable. There were white taped markings that traced around the hanging tools. Each gismo had its own special place that it belonged to.

  What was a little strange was that there were tools missing. The empty spaces traced vaguely with tape stood out like a sore thumb. If the person who organized this was such a clean freak, why didn’t he put his tools back after using them? I looked around the shed and realized for the first time that this place was trashed. Drawers and cabinet doors were flung open and trash was everywhere. Everything seemed out of place but then again I had never spent any time in this shed. It could have always looked like this. I’ve become so paranoid of my surroundings I turn everything around me into another mystery or awful crime scene. Lowering my head, I sighed. I felt the weight of the past few hours on my shoulders, leaving me feeling cold and my mouth filled the taste of sick.

  I looked down and noticed I was still holding my foul, rancid shirt. Only it wasn’t my shirt at all. It was a dress, a beautiful powder blue sundress. Or rather it used to be a pretty dress. It was torn, covered in grime and spotted with stains. I thought back on that small college party. The party where I embarrassed myself shamelessly. She was a wearing a dress similar to this one that night or maybe it’s the same one. What is this? I don’t understand. What’s going on? My hands were shaking and I was taking quick panicky breaths. The world almost started spinning again but it stayed still when I smelled perfume. I jerked my body towards the door in time to see someone run off. My first thought was that it was the intruder who had previously been taunting me until I heard girlish laughter. It wasn’t hard to guess whose laughter it was

  Before I even realized it I was chasing after her, leaving my duffle bag behind. Everything felt so surreal. She was right in front of me but she was a blur that I couldn’t quite focus on. She was still laughing, it was playful yet menacing. I kept calling out her name but I couldn’t hear my own voice. My lips moved, my vocal cords strained under the weight of her name but not a sound could be heard. All I could hear was my feet sloshing through the wet yard as I followed her echoing laughter. I heard a door slam as I slid around the corner of the house and into the garden. Dodging around a few statues, I jogged past the pool and beamed for the freshly slammed door. Without missing a beat I flung the door open and ran through the threshold.

  Stunned, frozen by my environs, I tripped through what seemed to be the living room. I knew for a fact that the door I had opened should have led to the sunroom’s kitchen. The smell of household cleaners was much stronger than before. I was terrified and befuddled. This was absolutely impossible. None of this made any goddamn sense. Clumsily I stumbled over the neat piles of trash and clutter that were stacked around the room. I was a panting, panicky mess. “This is so fucked up!” I screamed out but again nothing could be heard. I couldn’t tell if it was the noxious fumes or my consternation, but I instantly felt nauseous and dizzy.

  Journal Entry Seventeen

  Laughter spun me around to meet a young woman in a blue dress, standing in the hallway. I couldn’t make out her face. Every time I tried to focus on her features I would feel sick and cold pin pricks of pain would scratch at the back of my neck. “You’re the one who is fucked up, dear little Isaac.” Just hearing her sweet voice sent shivers up my spine. “Mo-Molly?” I tried to whimper out, reaching for her. To my dismay my voice was still just as silent, even more pathetic than my intended whimpering. Tears ran down my cheeks as she ran down the pitch-black hallway.

  I slipped around the floor, my wet shoes squeaking as I chased her down the dark corridor. The hallway went on and on and on. I could still hear her running and giggling in front of me. Why wouldn’t she stop and talk to me? Was she conniving with this mysterious jackass? It wasn’t enough for her to embarrass and treat me like her little brother. Molly knows the power she has over me and isn’t afraid use it.
r />   The laughter was getting further and further away. It felt like I was running down a never-ending tunnel. As I ran and ran little paper squares started to speckle the walls and floors. I couldn’t help myself, slowing down to a stop to stare at the walls. Each paper square had a name. I counted nine names in total. Most of the notes had Molly scrawled across them in that beautiful cursive. Her name was the only one that mattered. Unconsciously I started tearing them down, grabbing at as many as I could fit into my clenched, scratched hands. I didn’t know why I was doing it. It didn’t even feel like I was the one yanking them down. I was out of my body yet beside myself with anger. The notes were endless. I snatched and tore and plucked at them but there was no end. It was as if the walls had been built with the small square notes.

  I couldn’t handle these notes anymore. Seeing her name shoved into my face over and over again was too overwhelming. In a panic I took off running and slipped awkwardly across the sticky-note encrusted floor. It felt like I was tumbling down the rabbit hole, uncertain of what was up and what was down. Then to make things worse the humming in my ears started to become unbearable. The buzzing grew louder and more piercing as I stumbled through the thicket of yellow squares. Flashes of blood glinted in the dark corridor. It was as if images were being projected on those thick, dark shadows. I tried to close my eyes but the piercing, ringing noise got louder every time I tried. I refused to focus on to the horrid images projected on to the shadows, so I just ran.

  The harder my feet pounded on the ground the heavier the pressure in my head got. The pain was nagging at me, it’s all I could think about. The ringing in my ears ascended and expanded. I was deaf to the world around me and that world was a hellish nightmare. I just ran. I ran and ran and ran until finally there was a door. Slowing to a stop, my head was still throbbing and buzzing. I turned around and there in front of me was another door. Or was it the same door? I can’t trust any of this anymore. This was all so confusing. Stunned and paralyzed I was incapable of making any decisions. I just didn’t know what to do.

  I turned back and forth unable to decide which door to take. It felt like I was caught in a pointless loop of indecision. Although, for some reason I knew that both doors would lead to me to the same place. Both doors led to somewhere I didn’t want to be. The only emotion I could feel was fear; nothing but pure terror. The longer I stood avoiding which door to choose the harsher the high pitched tone escalated. I closed my eyes and picked at random before I could pass out from it all. The door clicked as I flung it open and blindly passed across its threshold. I kept my eyes shut until the door behind me slammed on its’ own.

  I jumped, startled by the echoing boom. The ringing in my ears and the unbearable pressure in my skull subsided the second I opened my eyes. I was in the house’s main kitchen and it was much, much brighter than that nightmarish hallway. Turning around and I saw that the door I had entered from was gone. I pressed my hand against the stucco and dry wall where the door had once been. It was warm and gave off a low vibration. I stood motionless for a while with my hand on the filled frame, just trying to figure it all out.

  Finally I moved on and started to carefully walk around the kitchen. It was clean, immaculately so. It contrasted so completely compared to how it looked earlier. The pizza boxes, chip bags, liquor bottles, red cups and other miscellaneous bits of trash were nowhere in sight. The trash bags were empty too. And the air was so thick with the scent if bleach, along with other pungent cleaning products. I didn’t like this. It was all too strange. My mind stabbed with questions even though I knew none of this was rational. The only thing I could do was blame it on the intruder but who can really blame someone for cleaning? To my surprise the bright kitchen window started to darken. I looked out the giant window near the breakfast table and the world seemed to fade out of existence. Eventually it was pitch-black again. No moon, no stars and no lights. Even though there were no lights on in the spacious kitchen and the cheerful morning sky been had swallowed by a void, I could still see. Some type of eerie, bluish-green amorous light was ambiently illuminating the kitchen.

  Journal Entry Eighteen

  Everything was so quiet now. There were no electrical clicking or humming of the refrigerator. Nor the old creaking of wood or window shades shifting from a slight draft. There was nothing. I tried to fill the room with my voice but I was still mute. It felt like another world, like some sort of purgatory.

  My footsteps were as silent as my voice while I walked over to the cabinets. I opened a drawer and it didn’t make a sound. Then I slammed it shut as hard as I could, with the same result. Crazed, I started running from cabinet to drawer throwing out glass cups and ceramic dinnerware. They shattered beautifully into a million pieces across the floor. This wasn’t out of anger or frustration but out of desperation. I did it out of morbid curiosity. I did it because this silence was impossible.

  I had always wondered what it would be like to live in complete silence. Sometimes, more than not, I even wished for it. But this, this was awful. I felt like I was missing a certain depth to my already devastated reality. It made me feel weightless and abandoned. I never realized how much sound comforted me. I couldn’t fathom being deaf and for the first time I prayed. Inwardly I prayed that none of this was permanent. Then I hoped. I hoped I wasn’t already in hell.

  I continued investigating the otherworldly kitchen by breaking random vases and bowls. When I grew bored of smashing and shattering my surroundings I started to experiment with the lights. In a macabre turn of events I couldn’t find any light switches after a few minutes of feeling around the walls. They were all missing, every single goddamn one of them. I was doing everything that I could do to avoid opening the door. It was the door that was supposed to lead into the spacious entertainment room that was oddly styled to my preferences. And even though it would make this situation twenty times worse, I wanted a drink. I wanted a stiff bottle of something so strong it would have to be smuggled into the country from a place no one could pronounce. It would make all of this maddening strangeness a little more believable.

  Pacing around the kitchen I stopped short of the door. It was so hard for me to continue searching for the intruder and for Molly. If that was even Molly. This house was turning into a labyrinth and I couldn’t trust my surroundings. I couldn’t trust anything I was hearing or seeing anymore. All of the logic known to my tiny, infinitesimal existence told me this was a hokey imitation. It was all a dream, a nightmare or some mental breakdown. But some part of me knew or suspected that this was all real. “It makes me feel like I’m a kid again,” I said soundlessly to myself still pacing around the kitchen. It made me feel like I was jumping through those mirrors, into a blissful exciting new world. Regrettably however I must have jumped into the wrong damn mirror. Too bad that every mirror in this place was missing and broken or I’d go somewhere way better than here. Perhaps to a place that was sunny, with crisp blue water and beaches filled with soft, white sand. I turned the corner around the bar, walked towards the door and froze in shock.

  The door was wide open and at the threshold there was a thick, swirling, palpable darkness. I couldn’t move, I was way too terrified. It made me feel even more like a child. I took a forced step towards the door and for the first time in what seemed like hours, heard a noise. It was a playful, giggling laughter. Her laughter. I took another stiff step and I saw something within the darkness. I saw pale limbs, a hollow pale face and a bright blue dress. Her features were etched with shadows being casted by a light source that couldn’t possibly exist. She started laughing playfully but it sounded all wrong. It was like there were several different people laughing all at slightly different intervals. Her smile faded, she looked at me with cold, emerald eyes and said, “Little Zac, come and get me.” She didn’t sound right at all. Her voice made my skin crawl. I tried to say her name but of course my voice was dead and gone. I stared at her in fear and in awe as she seemingly glided back into the darkness. “If you love me Izzy, y
ou’ll follow me.” I heard her say behind the veil of shadows.

  In spite of my fear, I abided her beckoning. I summoned up some false courage and crossed into the abyss of the void. “That’s it, cute little Isaac. Chase me, like you always have,” I heard her say. I could almost feel her hot breath on my neck. Reaching out, I grasped in all directions but she was seemingly nowhere. Everything was black. I was in silent, cold darkness and wherever I was it smelled like copper. It smelled of copper and the scent of something sour and sharp. It was nauseating. The only positive thing was I could hear again. I could hear my footsteps on the cold, smooth concrete floor. My fingers could snap and my hands could clap yet still my voice was lost. I guess the universe was tired of my bitching and moaning.

  It was cold and disorienting in the bleak room. Stumbling around I felt for a light switch on the crude wooden walls. I couldn’t find anything in this cold smelly pit. Wandering around back and forth in frustration, trying to warm up, soon I had tripped over something. In a panic I snatched at the empty, dark air and grasped at something hanging from the ceiling. Staggering I caught myself and heard a small click fill the room as I pulled on the string hanging in the air. A low wattage bulb flickered on and dissipated the shadowy gloominess with an orange-yellow light. I was poised and stunned by my environs. I was back inside of the shed.