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| july 8 2008 |
Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im not crazy. Im awake. Its not in my head. Its in my head and outside it as well. This is real. This is real and I am awake. Been wandering through the blackness of the warehouse with nothing but a candle and stumbled upon the breaker box. Time is 4:38 PM, July 8 2008. A month its been. The book came back to me. My eye caught an unfamiliar black band amongst the others on the shelf. But it was familiar. The soul in the pages called to me with a voice, a voice like my own. I touched its spine and I touched mine. Pulled it out like a lever. Stared into the cover like an abyss for 15 mins. Book lock. Locked door. In my mind. Took the key out of my sock like Id known it for years. And I did. Turned the key and the click of the mechanism corresponded to the one in my brain. Was abruptly aware of the world around me. Strange robes. Different walls. Unfamiliar sounds. But I knew them all. Think it was the smell that galvanized it. Vague stale stench of cafeteria food. Sanitized living. Pink public bathroom soap and brown corporate paper towels. Piss. Hillshire. A month its been. How did I end up here? I remember. Blew my cover. Got too cocky. Whacked the wasp nest. John called me back out. Mom was back at the table. The shiniest eyes Id ever seen, mascara running black waterfalls.
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| july 8 2008 |
John was a white hot ball of confusion and rage. “What the fuck is going on in this house?” Demanded to know what secrets we were hiding from him. Mom was mute. My heart was due to burst from the fear of seeing my leg ankle deep in a bear trap. I snapped. Something shorted in my cortex and my inhibitions were inhibited. My id was loose from its cage, fangs bared. I was ready to expose the truth. But what to say. Took me a few milliseconds scrambling for the possible words until that too was bypassed and out came something even dirtier. A lie. Soaked in truth. Oozed out of me like a slime. It was the reflex of a broken boy drunk off of a rare opportunity of power. “John. Where does Mary go Friday nights?” I could see the blood leave her face in real time. She was a statue, her voice box a vacuum. “AA meets.” “John.” He saw the seriousness in the address, my impaling eyes. “Where do you think she really goes?” I stared right through his head, could almost see the neurons I made fire. He blinked and it was all over. “Mary. What’s going on?” Felt like he was spitting a different language to her. “MARY.” Niagara falls. The cornered rat squealed. “Im almost clean, you know Ive been struggling.” “Tell me the truth. The TRUTH.” “Youre scaring me.” I had detonated a nuclear blast without warning, finally declaring war over control of the narrative. “You been fuckin around, bitch?” An unexpected lie can be more powerful than the purest truth. “No, you know thats not me.” Dropped the shell, reloaded the clip. “Then go to one of her meetings, John.” He looked to me, and I locked my reticle right between her eyes. My poker face, pumping all cylinders.
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| july 8 2008 |
Her skin, white as a sheet. “What the fuck are you doing on Fridays, Mary?” “The round table.” “Okay, lets go then.” “No.” “Why not?” I savored her sweet panic like indulging in a forbidden aged wine. “Im... not there yet.” “Is Milo telling the truth? IS HE?” Her janky hesitation was oh so pungent. “Of course not, honey.” “Dont you fucking honey me. Dont you think for a damn second that I dont know whats up. Your shits stinking to high hell.” Good nose. Pulled the trigger again, another buckshot. “Ask her who she talks to on the phone late at night.” Collective stares intensified. “Ah, so thats what youve been up to? Huh? SPEAK TO ME!” The house of cards was imploding, the bottom card between my fingers. Joker. “Hes lying!” I parried with a whisper, “Am I?” breathed right before I closed the door. So filled with determination swelling in my belly like a stoked boiler, burning almost as intense as the monoliths eternal gaze. Turning the lock felt like the ignition to a grand machine. Ear to the door, I listened to the engine whir. Screaming match, clap of flesh, dishes crashing, doors shaking the house, garage door awakened, car speeding off. A series of loud interspersed silences. I knew who I was alone with. Stuffed the journal in a covert hole in my mattress. Froze. Didnt have a plan. Unassuming cry near the door under my dresser. Not now boy. The inevitable door pounding began. “YOU LITTLE SHIT. LET ME IN!” Imagined a lizard having crawled out of a human skin. Laughed at the visual. “Do you know what youve fucking done? John was paying the bills! What are we going to do now?!” If she didnt know who she was speaking to, I made it clear as crystal.
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| july 8 2008 |
“Why dont you call your masked German friends over at AA for some financial aid?” Ghastly war cry from beyond the door. Fists turned to kicks. Door splintered open, monster in the threshold. Stood there huffing and puffing, shiniest eyes in the world, one black and blue, tethered to me. Was ready for her as much as I could ever be. Meow. Oscar emerged reluctantly. Feeding time. Heart sank. Within a blink, the lizard snatched him up in her claws. “Oscars going to the pound.” She didnt make it far, I was at her legs like bolas. Climbed up her until she fell and I gave her the savage beating I had only dreamed of. Knee to my head and the wounded reptile recoiled into her cave, abandoned tail flailing on the ground. No use sugar coating my feelings any longer. “I FUCKING HATE YOU.” Eerie silence. Blackmail time. “Im going to tell John the truth, unless you heed my demands.” Nothing. “Youre going to go to Dr. Garner and confirm that Im not crazy. That you can see him too. Then youre going to...” Bitch exploded from her room, kicked the wind out of me. Ambush. Fell back up against the couch, soaked rag pressed up to my face as I drew air. Fuck. Blackness enveloped me like a shroud, echoing the last words I heard, “Im sending you off.” I come to and men are dragging me over the welcome mat, my hands painted with blood in metal bracelets. Threw me in the back of the car. The wench telling a uniform how I suddenly lashed out and violently attacked after an argument. Had far more wounds than I gave her before the damp rag. Resorted to self-mutilation. Diabolical. The route we took was the same as when I was shopping with John. Was in shock until I saw the familiar building. Then I screamed. Kicked. Fought until they stuck me and was out again. Been out cold until the book found me. But I remember it all now and Im awake once again. In the asylum of consequence. The institute. A month its been. A month its been and she hasnt visited me once.
