paradox Page #5

"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

								


    Suddenly, I felt the heaviness set in again, feeling myself detaching from reality. I whined out a strangled cry as everything flashed white.
I sat atop the kitchen cabinets in a white dress, peering down at the scene below me.

    I saw the poor girl covered in blood and bruises looking around in confusion, as if she didn't know what she had done. 

   Her father and sister laid parallel to one another, their blood puddles merging into one.

    I turned my head towards the living room, where the boy was stuck between heavy wooden door and the foyer.

    His neck was snapped at such a terrifying angle.

    What a shame.

    I veered my attention back to the girl, sitting on the floor, confused and sobbing. Guilt over something she didn't understand was evident in the way her eyes were dissociative, the way her jaw was unhinged and slightly dropped, the way her hands caked with blood rested at her side. 

    Poor girl.

    Eventually she'll understand that she did this to herself, that she has no one else to blame.

    I groaned internally as I hard the sirens. I was enjoying my break, why do I have to leave so soon?

    I blinked, the bright standard light panel glaring down at me. 

    I looked around, recognizing the white walls, the padded floor and weighted mattress.

    I laid back against it, closing my eyes and awaiting the next brutal psychotic break where I'll be forced to relive the worst week of my life. 

    Grabbing the steering wheel an veering my mom's car off the road.

    Stabbing my dad with a butcher knife I'd grabbed from the strainer. 

    Stabbing my sister when she found out what I'd done.

    Smashing her boyfriends neck in the front door so he wouldn't have to deal with what I'd done. 

    The flashing lights and sirens filling my vision, boots thundering across the floor. Handcuffs tightening against my wrists, the cold metal worsened my shivering. 

    The conversations that sounded like they ere coming through a funnel, so far away when they were right in front of me.

    The white padded room I now call home, as I wane in and out of consciousness. 

    I guess some would say this is my karma, while others would say I need the break.
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