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Chapter 11: Delusions and the Feeling of Dead Friends
I
just stared at the wall. With the great news that I just obtained, nothing
could ever possibly distract my gaze to force me to neglect my very own
thoughts. I just stood there. I couldn’t believe I was just looking at this
off-white wall—which had something like a medium dotted texture all over the
wall, scuffs here and there, expanding from 15x7, the larger number being the
length—standing almost in suspended animation and a thought that I might not
live another day.
I
didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there. I listened to the air and it was
like I can hear melodic violins ascending and descending with its sound
accompanied by a piano giving this periodic dark thump thump thump—all of which
was my imagination. I still listened for that "sweet tune" and I
could only wish that my maker--the very one who created my flesh and blood—would
walk in front of me and expel me from an existence that I’m currently wishing
that it could vanish from my view.
It
never did. I’m not sure if it ever will. As the hours passed and my legs
started to shake, my point of view could have nearly changed to a full
one-eighty and I could have almost enjoyed the small things in life. It was as
if this wall was simply a gift from that same maker as a piece offering saying
that he forgives me or maybe I’m just delusional and the coincidence of me
staring at a wall was as simple as it could ever be and that was I was just me,
starring at a wall. I breathed in and turned around to see the body of the dead
child I found just moments ago and I was trying to remember her name. As simple
as it could of been, I had to think about it more than an average human being
took to consume some filthy food that could have been human excrement in
itself. I made sounds with my lips hoping that the very thing would trigger my
memory to remember a person’s identity but as everything does right now, that
never happened.
I
could only hope that it wasn't me that killed this poor little girl but at this
moment, everything points at my direction and it wasn't comforting to my heart.
I forgot that I never checked my body for open cuts to see if anything hurt me
too, so I did that exact thing. There was—of course—several blood drops all
over the white shirt I was wearing and massive pools of blood settled in my
right palm. I looked at it intensely because it was like it was making its own
blood and then I touched it and that confirmed my thoughts. Whatever happened
between the girl, and me she cut my palm wide open with something so obviously
there was some sort of a struggle—even though I was unaware of this.
I
started to think about the past day as hard as I could and all I remembered was
that I was sleeping for god knows how long. I didn't even know what day it was
let alone all week, but looking outside—even through all the mist—I could see a
light source on the other side nearly directly above my head, so it had to be
near noon.
I
looked at my palm again and I could have seen something shiny within it. My
blood was glistening with all the light looking at it so this could have been
easily mistaken as my very own life-source red but something was metallic
within my skin. I exited the room and I walked over to the knife that was in
the door frame and with my left hand—I am naturally right handed but due to my
recent incision it was best to use my non-injured hand—and I mustered all I
could to get the knife from its very own holding cell. After several seconds of
tugging and pulling it finally came out. I held the knife as if I was ready to
strike again, but the only blood that was going to be spilled was my own. My
hand was shaking—most likely due to all the terror and anxiety I was just put
through—so I supported the knife on my right palm, to use the same thing as
leverage.
I
breathed in deeply, held my breath and I pushed the knife into my wound.
Instant pain came over me and I started to tear up and blood gushed out of my
palm and all over the floor and onto my jeans. I was trying to get under
whatever this object was and use the knife to tear out the object that didn't
belong to me but it was deep. Noticing that I was only scratching the object I
realized that the knife had to be at a more vertical angle in order to get
under the illegal alien. So I raised the knife in order to get the proper
leverage and it looked as if I was trying to pierce all the way through and let
me tell you, it felt like I did. I screamed out and all the air that I builded
up in my lungs rushed out of my nose and all of the noise I could make was
vocalized.
I
continued to push the knife towards my palm and whatever was within my body was
now being expelled from its warm home. I took a deep breath and pushed as hard
as I could and a cracking and a gushing and the sounds of organic material
raised from my palm blood rushed even more as if whatever was blocking the flow
from my heart to my hand was finally gone and whatever was on my hand fell out
of my hand and fell on the floor in a puddle of blood. I threw the knife aside
like it was the creator of all pain and seconds later I felt as if all stress
has been removed from my back and flew to a new world.
I
looked at the ground and picked up the little metal piece, I couldn't make out
what it was because it was covered with organic material—my organic material.
So I then walked over to my sink—which was behind me and upon the journey
toward the sink I picked off flesh and muscle and all that I could that was
tangled around it. I turned off the sink and amoung washing my hands I washed
off the foreign object. It was a little crescent like a crescent moon,
"MOONY!" I screamed. That was the little girls name but a claim for a
coincidence of a moon in my palm seemed more than necessary. It was no thicker
than a fingernail and it looked as if it was made of steel but in my palm it
weighed close to nothing I felt the tips of the crescent and they felt as if
they were just sharpened seconds ago. I noticed there was a hole in the center
leaning towards the outside of the moon and I realized that this was a piece of
a necklace but it was lacking its chain, or string.
I
walked back into the room in which Moony laid and tangled in her left blood
covered hand was a thin string. From the looks of things she wrapped her
necklace around her hand holding onto the crescent and used it as her own
defense weapon. Smart thinking for a little girl that could be no older
than seven. I stood above her body, staring at the white wall within the
same room again, like it was the only sense of purity that was left within my
life I stared intently expecting it to move or change shapes. Out of the corner
of my eye I could have sworn to see the dancing couple again. Dancing with all
compassion they could fit between each other and my last thoughts before I left
this building forever was why did I have a desire to kill her and why don't I
remember anything about it?
Next up in Listening For That Sweet Tune:
Chapter 13: When Your On The Brink Of Insanity Pt.1
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