Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Temple of Love
Posts: 1,641
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Chris” mumbled James
“Yeah, what’s up” he asked in an anxious voice
Only silence, peppered with some labored breathing, answered him.
“James, what’s wrong man?” asked Chris, as he became increasingly nervous as the time passed.
“Chris” said James, this time his voice had a little more power in it, “… I need you to come over.”
“Alright, man, when?”
“Right now, has to be now”
“Is everything ok man?” Chris was now sweating bullets as he scrambled to put his shoes on.
“Don’t know what to do, I don’t know how. Couldn’t stop it, it just kept pouring, couldn’t let go, kept on going. Why…., how… how could I do” the line cut off, and Chris bolted from the house down the street towards James. He slid into James yard, leaping over the white picket fence, finding the door opened slightly. He kicked it opened and proceeded to sprint around the house, feverishly searching for his friend. After not finding him on the ground floor, he sprinted up the stairs as quickly as his tired legs could carry him. He saw James standing in the master bedroom with his back to the door.
“James,” Chris gasped, “there you are.” He said nothing.
Chris took a few cautious steps forward
“What’s wrong, James?”
“I am”
Chris stood next to James; his eyes filled with terror, for on the bed, Sarah Roberts lied there broken, bloody, and dead.
“What happened James” he yelled, his voice filled with tremors.
James shook his head, as if shaking off the cobwebs,
“I need some water, I’ll talk, but with water”
“Alright” Chris consented as he led James by the arm to the kitchen.
James poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down as if he hadn’t drunk for days.
“Ok,” Chris spoke slowly, his voice still shaking slightly, “what happened, tell me everything.”
James took a deep breath, setting the cup gently by his side near the counter.
“Three days ago I told you, I told you something wasn’t right with me, but I didn’t really tell you what.”
“I remember”
“Well, they’ve been talking to me more and more, and they told me to do it, they said it would make everything better, they convinced me, just for a moment,” emphasizing the word they with an exceptional accusatory tone.
“Who did?”
“THEY,” he shouted, “the voices.”
Chris sat there slightly dumbstruck, barely able to talk, “g- g- g- go on”
“All my life, I’ve heard them talking, I know they’re me, but they aren’t the me I always am. I’ve ignored them, but they’ve been getting stronger, like they used to be. It’s happened before, but they thought I was cured, they let me out, I don’t want to go back.”
“Wha…” Chris started before James cut him off.
“Eleven years ago, I was arrested for murder, but I was sent to an asylum, guilty by reason of insanity or something like that.” James swallowed another glass of water.
“You must be…” Chris was cut off again
“This isn’t a joke, Chris, I killed someone. A family man, wife, children, a good house, he had everything, the man was a fucking priest Chris, A PRIEST!”
“How did it happen?” he asked, slightly dumbfounded.
“I always heard voices, my whole life, since I was a kid. I always had weird little hallucinations, but nothing to panic over, and I told no one. One day, sitting in church, they told me he had been brainwashing me, that he wanted to use me for evil, and that if I didn’t cooperate with him, he’d attack my sister. The voices kept talking all sermon, and I finally believed them. I waited everybody to leave, and then I confronted him. I told him it wasn’t right, what he was doing, he asked me what I meant, and that’s when I snapped. I grabbed the bible next to me, and swung it at his head as hard as I could. He dropped to the floor, still conscious, but in pain. He got to all fours when I kicked him in the ribs with all my might. I heard and I felt the bones crack, and the voices in my head, they roared with applause. Here I am, watching a priest on hands and knees cough blood, and I hear all the voices applauding thunderously. I stomped on his fingers as I yelled, ‘I’m on to your brainwashing, you won’t make a Manchurian Candidate of me, and you won’t get near Emily.’ He choked out something to the extent of, ‘I don’t know what you mean’ when I bellowed, ‘enough lies’, then kicked him in the face. I felt it rise up in me, this passion, this heat, this pure hatred; it was a great feeling, terrible, but great. The fact he was a priest gave me a sick pleasure. I kicked him in the side again, yelling the words ‘choke on your lies’ repeatedly. At that point, I tore the four foot long metal cross off the wall and commenced to beat him with it, each thud accompanied by a crack of bone, a cough of blood, and the roaring applause of the demented audience in my head. I kicked him onto his back and kicked him in the face. The voices began yelling, ‘finish him, finish him’ I had to oblige them. I turned around and slammed the long end of the cross onto the altar, breaking a few inches off, leaving a spectacularly sharp spike. I stepped on his hair, causing him to scream in pain, and then, in one swift motion, I drove the spike through his throat and into the floor. His body jerked upward and then went limp. There was a silence in the church and the room in my mind, and then an ear splitting roar of applause erupted from the audience in my brain. By their word, in one fell strike, I had killed a trusted member of the community, a priest, and my own father. They found me guilty by reason of insanity, I spent eight years in the asylum, and I managed to pretend I was cured, so they released me, but that’s the problem with acting, you can only do it so long.”
Chris sat there in total silence, his eyes wide, and his jaw slack, speechless.
“Since then, anytime the voices get too strong, I just go on a ‘business trip’ to a secluded cabin and just freak out and destroy everything. Sometimes I think about all the things I’ve done during my freak outs, and I just laugh out loud. I wish I didn’t like this, but I can’t lie, I do. I love it, that rush, that feeling, but it’s a cruel mistress. Sometimes my hands, they… shake, I shake, and I feel like I’m going to explode. Sometimes I think I do explode, I always have these images in my head of me killing a dog or destroying a car, and sometimes I hear about random damage or assault, and then it makes me paranoid you know? Are they dreams or memories? I look in the mirror, my eyes turn red, my hair is standing on end, and I have no idea who’s looking back at me.”
Chris finally was able to process what he was hearing, though it sat ill in his mind.
“Have you ever thought about ther…” his sentence was cut short. James uttered a loud, coarse cry, and then flung the table lamp into the wall.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up you mother fuckers! I’m tired of your games!” James yelled, trying to drown out the dull roar in his mind. Chris stood paralyzed in fear. James spun around, ducked down, and charged headlong into the television, crashing right through that and partially breaking into the drywall behind it. He stood there, with his head in the TV, blood dripping down off his shoulders to the floor, panting heavily.
“Shut up!” he roared at the top of his lungs. Then he took a deep breath and thrust his hands forward with all his might. What was left of the television was broken in two and planted into the wall. He then flung around, teeth clenched and bared, breathing heavily, and shut his eyes tightly. His breathing became more and more labored, and all Chris could do was sit there and stare with a mixture of terror and shock.
“GET” he gasped coarsely, “OUT!” he screamed.
“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” he roared at the top of his lungs, and with all his might he kicked the solid oak coffee table in front of him, sending it flying across the room until it collided with the wall, shattering to splinters with a deafening crash.
James grabbed his hair tightly and fell onto his knees, panting heavily.
“Fine” he muttered under his breath, “I’ll do it.”
“Dude…” Chris started shakily, “you need help, like now.”
“Help? Hahaha!” he cackled manically, “the only thing I needed help in was making up my mind, and I just have.”
“ab.. about-t-t-t what?” Chris stuttered.
James walked over to the cabinet behind him and smashed the glass paned door with the bottom of his fist.
“J-J-James, what di-did you mean by, you already made up your mind?” Chris trembled.
“Do you want to know what happened to her?” asked James, “I’ll tell you. We were kissing when I flinched in pain. I told her it was headache, but really, it was them, they were shouting. They kept yelling things, most of which I shouldn’t repeat or can’t remember, but the words ‘****’ and ‘kill’ were heavily used. I held them off as long as I could, but they won. I shoved her on the bed and ripped her clothing off her. At first she thought it was one of those spontaneous sexual moments we have, in a sense she was right. We made love like wild animals. Slowly I kept getting rougher, and rougher, and eventually it started to hurt her. I grabbed her hair as hard as I could and bit her on the neck, drawing blood. She cried out in pain, and I did it again. She was struggling, and pleading with me to stop, I didn’t stop, and they didn’t want me to. I pinned her to the bed and ***** her, there’s no other word for it, I ***** her. You’d think this would have sated them, but it didn’t. The cries of **** stopped, but kill was still being shouted. So I listened. I walked up to her, grabbed her by the hair, and threw her into the wall. Then I lifted her up, and threw her again. Then I grabbed her by the throat and picked her up, like a rag doll.
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