paradox Page #3

"A neurotic is a man who builds a castle in the air. A psychotic is a man who lives in it. A psychiatrist is the man who collects the rent." ~Jerome Lawrence There's something wrong. Elisa wakes up in a foggy detachment from reality, with no idea what's going on. From there it only gets worse. It's almost as if she just, broke.

• Fiction
• Horror
• Short story
• Drama

								


    I was silent the entire way to the shopping strip. I couldn't shake th tunnel-vision-esque feeling I had,  and paired with the foggy feeling in my brain, I felt like I was going to explode. 

    "So, where do you want to go?" I asked, breaking the steady silence. 

    "I was thinking about those shops we saw the last time we drove by. You know the new small businesses that recently opened? I saw their advertisements on Facebook." I nodded in agreement and let my mom ramble on about the shops she wants to see.

    One thing about my mother, and most mothers I guess, is she will get on a roll and just keeping going. 

    Even if it means saying something she's already said. Numerous times. 

    We pulled into a huge parking lot, across the street was a long strip of shops and restaurants. 

    I waited until I heard the quiet click of the car locking, then made my way across the street with mom. As luck would have it, we narrowly avoided being crushed by a speeding car. 

    Mom dragged me through at least seventeen shops, from clothes to shoes to knickknacks. We found some cut clothes, a new tote bag for my mom, and I managed to sneak my card in before her and paid for everything. Then we made our way to lunch. 

    "Is everything okay with you Elle?" My mom asked. Her acidic green eyes were swimming with concern, she looked stressed.

    "I've got this weird thing where I feel like there's me, a layer of foggy confusion, and reality. It's been really weird, and I've been having some weird thoughts too." I admitted. 

    My favorite thing about m mom is that she's always been someone I could talk to. My sister struggles to show she has emotions, my father is always busy at work, but my mom always made time for me and my sister as kids. 

    Even now, on her birthday, she makes time for us. 

    We talked about it, and my mom mentioned seeing a doctor, which I was adamant against. 

    The last thing I need is a label shadowing me while I try to make my way through a world that's already against me.  

    "I love you mom." I hugged her tightly. She squeezed me back just as tight.

    "I love you too, Elly." 
The sun as shining brightly, the birds were chirping. At least I think they were. 

    The foggy feeling had come back full force, so mom and I decided to head home. 

    We were about half a mile from the parking lot, but it was a nice day out so we figured the walk wouldn't hurt.

    Boy were we wrong.

    We had passed a particularly brightly painted shop, when suddenly I found myself smashed against the bright pink wall. 

    In the middle of the day, two men, who were no older than my mom, tackled her to the ground and took everything she had.

    All of our shopping, her wallet, even the lipstick from her pocket. 

    I tried to push against the man who was holding me against the wall, but he was stronger than me. 

    I felt everything start pulsing, and flashes of black spun through my vision. I shoved as hard as I could, effectively moving the man enough to where I could get to my mom. 

    Her nose was bloody and her pale arms were quickly becoming marred with bruises. 

    "Mom! Mommy are you okay?" I shoved chunks of my hair out of my face as they clung to the tears dripping from my eyes. 

    "Mom. Say something, come on !" I was screaming now, I felt as if my entire world was ending. 

    Suddenly there were firm, but gentle, arms wrapped around me. I inhaled deeply as my mom's perfume filled my nostrils.

    "Shhh, Elly I'm okay. It's okay." Mom soothed, running her scraped hands through my now tangled hair. As much as she tried to convince me, her voice cracked mid-sentence. 

    "Mom, they took everything!" I exclaimed, my voice hoarse from the screaming. 

    She grinned at me, fishing the car keys and her phone from her bra. "Not everything. Let's go home." I helped her up, brushing my thumb under her nose. 

    I watched the sticky red drip from my thumb onto the pavement, where a slow puddle was collecting. 

    I reached into my pocket for something, thankfully finding a napkin from a random fast food place, and handed it to her. 

    "Come on." I led her to the car, this time watching from every angle. 

    I spun in slow circles, surveying our surroundings. 

    My mom giggled, thinking I was trying to cheer her up. But I wasn't.

    I whipped my head to the side as I heard the men's grunts, like when they shoved us. 

    We made it to the car safely, and I clicked on the door lock repeatedly until my mom told me to stop.

    "Elly it's fine. The car's locked." She said gently, checking her rearview mirror as she pulled out of the parking lot.  

    I looked out of her rearview too, just in case.

    About halfway through the drive home I heard a scuffle. I whirled around in my seat and screamed. 

    There, in the backseat, sat both of the scary men who had attacked us. 

   They looked like greaseballs, their faces slightly blurry. 

    I grabbed the steering wheel as everything flashed a bright white and then went black.
When I came back to reality, there was a shattered windshield in front of me with glass everywhere. 

    I brought my hand to my ear, because it was ringing so loud I couldn't hear anything else. Instead, I felt something warm and sticky dripping through my hair.

    I glanced at my shaky hand as the scarlet liquid dripped into my lap. 

    I turned to my left and saw my mom, her torso up hanging out of her door window. Her legs were bent awkwardly between the steering wheel and the seat.

    I felt salty tears stream down my cheeks as I struggled against my seatbelt. It had come out of the clasp but was held against my chest by a thick branch that divided my mom and I. Everywhere I looked was blurry, no matter how many times I rubbed my eyes. All I succeeded in was smearing my own  blood across my face. 

    I pushed against the rough tree branch, but my hands were shaking and kept scraping across the rough bark. 

    "Mom?" I called out, my voice hoarse and cracked. 

    When I received no response, I tugged at the leather strap across my chest with a renewed vigor, but the material barely loosened. 

    I tugged as hard as I could until there was just enough give to slide my knee between my chest and the seatbelt.

    I pushed against the back of my seat and shimmied out of the seatbelt's grasp. I looked around me, the scenery lagging behind my movements. The car had flipped, spiraling down the shallow, rocky hill of the highway,  before landing on its side.

   With a rigid new addition to the center console.

    I noticed my mom's side was turned upwards, towards the sky, whereas I was on the ground. 

    All the glass was shattered, the trunk bent in on itself, as much as I could make out, anyways. 

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