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It had been weeks since what happened, and I still don’t know if any of it was real. I had been completely miserable because of it each night, and feeling worse because it likely wasn’t. It probably was just a real fucked up hallucination I had because of how paranoid I was about that stupid killer. I spoke with my therapist about all of it, and she figured it was caused by me poking around on that murder case. I felt so stupid, who the hell gets traumatized by their own fucking brain? I was standing in the shower thinking about all of this again, before turning off the knob and getting out, grabbing a towel. I officially hated the bathroom and I’ve been doing whatever I could to stay out of it, at least until my brain stopped grilling me about the incident.
I dried off, and hurriedly walked out in briefs. I made it to my room and got on a black T-shirt and black socks. I slipped light blue jeans that were a little loose and slipped on my blue varsity jacket; I’ve had this thing since high school, and planned on wearing it until the day I died, honestly. I grabbed my container of hair gel and spiked my hair into a slicked back position and then put on my glasses, accidentally smudging them in the process.
I had to get to class soon, so I made myself a bagel quickly which I then ate while scrolling on my phone, then made my way out the apartment.
—————————————————————
It was later in the evening, I was sitting around tired and anxious in my seat lazily writing quick sentence notes on whatever my professor was on about, fighting the tempting desire to fall asleep instead. It was cold and bright in here, which didn’t help with how damn tired I already was. I took a glance at the clock and back to my notes, feeling my leg bounce up and down frantically. There was cool air hitting the back of my neck and the shaved down parts of my hair into my scalp; It kept making me violently shudder and yawn a lot, so I had to keep covering my face every few minutes to not draw attention to myself. Despite being basically half asleep, I was still distracted by what had happened a few weeks ago, plus my brother acting so weird.. That was the most we had interacted in forever, and it felt so shitty. It felt like he looked down at me. I stopped writing, staring at the paper and sighed.
I put my hand on my forehead in distress and closed my eyes for a moment, fuck, man. When did it get this bad? Me and Damien were inseparable for years, and I had fucked it all up. I ruined our relationship, he hates me, and even then. Even then. He offered me a place to stay, an escape from our town full of nobodies.. He still trusted me enough to rent a place with me, including me in his college life after I nearly sabotaged his high school years… that’s Damien. That’s the brother I’ve known for 21 years. You couldn’t get much better than him as a brother, so why was he suddenly being so?.. So.. my train of thought derailed slowly, I felt myself drift off.
I jolted awake suddenly, my professor was poking at me with a pencil aggressively with an annoyed expression; It didn’t take long for me to realize what had happened. I pulled myself up and fixed my posture. “Crap, sorry, professor.” I said, looking up at him feeling super embarrassed. “Whatever you do, just show up to class next time not half asleep.” He said with frustration. I nodded in response, “Yeah, really sorry about that. Rough few nights.” “Class is already over.” He said in a dismissive manner, clearly not wanting to deal with me anymore than he had to. “Right.” I said, standing up and grabbing my shit, slinging it over my shoulder and putting my stuff into my bag. “Do you have that attitude with everybody?” He stated while he gave me a glare.
I looked back at him a little puzzled, attitude? I thought I said that normally? I’m barely even annoyed, I already know falling asleep was my fault. I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it, immediately recognizing if I expressed honesty it’d be deemed an excuse. “I’m sorry, like I said last night was really rough.” I tried to say as genuine as possible. “You’re not hungover, are you?” I looked at him, trying to keep my face relaxed at that stupid fucking question. “I’ve been sober for at least a year now, actually. I don’t plan on changing that.” I said flatly with slight annoyance. “Ah, my mistake.” He said, sounding disingenuous.
I tried to shrug it off and walked out of the room and checked my phone on instinct, all meaningless notifications. I put my phone back in my pocket and walked towards the exit of the building. That was the last class of the day for me, it was 5PM. Now what? I walked on auto pilot towards my car, thinking. I needed an escape, my mind was haunted by that stupid head, I just needed to get away for a while to have a moment of peace. I made it to my car and opened the door, entering the piece of garbage with a grunt. I then leaned back in the driver’s seat of my shitbox of a vehicle and let out a tired sigh, thinking about what to do, eventually I remembered a location I’ve gone to a couple times before; I lit a cigarette and placed it in my mouth, putting the window down and turning on my car, driving off a little above the speed limit. I had music blasting throughout the car. Maybe some nature will fix me.
—————————————————————
I pulled into a parking space and placed my car in park. There were a few instances on the way here where I wanted to just break my sobriety and get myself hammered at a bar, but knowing that’s a shitty idea that I’d never forgive myself for I instead drove all the way up into the mountains somewhat near my place. I turned off the vehicle, stepping out and smelling the cigarette smoke releasing out of the sedan fizzling away into the fresh, cold air. I closed the door and locked the car quickly after, strolling out towards the edge, and placing my elbows crossed on top of the metal barrier and rested my head, staring down at the huge city. Despite it being a Monday night, it was still buzzing with life down there… yet up here it was quiet, calm. There’s a sense of connectivity between the urban jungle below and the serenity of a mountain range all the way up here. It felt almost like all the manmade garbage below was just as natural as the trees and vegetation here. Like it was crafted by the hands of God. I stared off a bit, feeling my brow furrow. I shuffled into my pants grabbing a cigarette and my lighter, lighting it and inhaling.
I haven’t thought about God in a while. A long while.
I looked over at my car, unlocking it and opening the door. I opened up the middle compartment, cigarette hanging out my mouth, and grabbed a rosary made from sterling silver. I looked at it with complex emotions I couldn’t quite make out. I hated this thing, but it was important to me. I’ve had it since I was a kid, it was from my grandparents before they passed suddenly in an accident. They gave it to me, instead of Damien.. and I never learned why, nobody bothered telling me. It was the only time I felt like I was important compared to my brother, and it was the symbol of faith. Faith that died in me a long, long time ago. How ironic.
I rubbed my thumb over it a bit, before carefully putting it back in the car, closing the compartment. I closed the door and locked the car and eventually went back to staring at the sights below. I used to think everything was so complicated when I was a kid, yet everything feels worse now as an adult. They always say that it would, so maybe I just wasn’t prepared… Maybe I never really grew up. I reached into my pocket, looking longingly at an old lighter that had my name, “Michael,” engraved in it. It was a cheap plastic one that had no more fuel left in it; it was a few years old now. I contemplated dropping it over the edge before gravity made the decision for me. I blinked in surprise, watching it drop out of reach within seconds. I felt relieved, at least, that thing was just garbage now. I was putting all this meaning into a piece of trash, when the truth was I’m holding out for ghosts which has always been the case, and I need to stop looking for reasons to.
I dropped the spent cig on the pavement and crushed it underneath the sole of my beat up blue converse, hopping back into my car to get home.
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As I drove back, I got a couple nagging thoughts about the fact I just littered on a mountain, and kept having small arguments in my head over it every time I hit traffic or a red light.
I turned up the volume knob on my car. Almost home, at least. I can hop into bed soon. I then was immediately forced to slam on the breaks, the guy behind me honking violently. I spaced out a little and hadn’t noticed the traffic came to a complete stop right near my apartment. I stared, trying to get a good look at what was going on… police cars, all over. They were forcing people to make a U-turn into the opposite direction, rage filling my body. I was tired. So so tired, and my fucking apartment is right THERE. I growled, putting my car in park and aggressively scratching the back of my head from stress. I stared out the window for a little bit, unparking my car to scoot up every so often, before I noticed something. There was caution tape around the area they had us moving away from, cones to indicate the area was off limits, and a huge team of what looked like forensics workers. My heart only got faster with anxiety as I witnessed more and more of the scene, scooting up slowly and watching each car slide around and gliding down back the other way. Before it was my turn to do so.
I stopped the car, shaking in complete disbelief. It was that fucking head. Half smashed on the road with maggots eating out its face. I didn’t know if it was the same head, since it was grossly disfigured, but it was a fucking severed head right outside my apartment. It’s not rocket science.
I got honked at relentlessly since I wasn’t budging from shock, until finally a cop yelled at me to turn around, so I did the turn demanded of me, driving off aimlessly. Nothing but the following repeating in my head:
What the fuck.
What the fuck.
What. The. Fuck.
I pulled out my phone, ringing Damien.
It rang.
Nothing.
Did it again.
And again.
And again.
Silence.
I threw the object at my car window and started speeding, taking a few reckless turns to make it back towards the apartment, taking a route involving me going around the entire area just to make it to the other side. After nearly 2 accidents and several honk arguments, I shittily parked in a parking garage near the flat, and stumbled out, high off pure. Raw. Adrenaline. I Immediately put it to work as I darted towards the building. Everything is flying past me. Blurry. It was all blurry.
.
.
.
Elevator. I’m in an elevator. I panted, wiping sweat from my face and clicking the 13th floor of the building. Every second felt like a millennia waiting for this thing to reach up there, part of my worry coming from my stupid fear of elevators failing and dropping suddenly. Eventually the doors opened, and I darted down the hallway, hearing the loud thuds below my feet. I felt the weight in every step that hit each foot.
I opened the door to my apartment.
“DAMIEN!!” I called out, it came out like a deep growl in my throat, it shocked me a bit, I blinked but shook it off and entered, closing the door behind me. I didn’t mean to sound vicious, so I called out again with concern. I got anxious before I saw him exit his room and look at me with an unamused expression. “What do you want?” He spoke with his arms crossed. “That fucking head is right outside our apartment!! The one I was telling you about a few weeks ago!” I said, pointing at the window. “You mean the one your therapist told you wasn’t real?” He furrowed his brows a little, with obvious skepticism. He looked so tired of me. Since when did I tell him my therapist said that? Did I just forget? I waved away the thoughts. “Just fucking look outside the window!” I growled. He sneered, “I’m going to see nothing again, aren’t I?” I clenched my fists angrily and grabbed him, pulling him towards the window. He looked angry at me. I looked down, seeing the sight below. It was real. It was real, and I was right, everything I saw wasn’t fake at all.
Holy shit everything I witnessed wasn’t fake. There was a severed head in my toilet.
I tried to ignore my own personal feelings, looking at Damien to figure out his. He was unamused, and pissed. “What?” I said, “There’s nothing there.” He growled, pinching his nose. I blinked in shock, looking down at the sight then back at him, he was walking away. I hurried towards him, “What the fuck do you mean there’s nothing there I see it with my own goddamn eyes! I drove through that shit! A bunch of other people saw it, hell I bet it's even on the news!!” I felt like I was going insane, what the fuck was wrong with him?!
“Have you been taking your medications?” He said, with concern in his voice. I was livid. “Of course I fucking have!! I’m not hallucinating Damien!” He rolled his eyes, “On time?” He asked, knowing I having and made it obvious in his tone. “I figured as much, no wonder you’ve been so crazy, just like high school.” He sighed.,“You nearly drank again today too, didn’t you? You’ve been smoking more I’ve noticed. I even smell it on you. You’re drenched in stress and smoke. It’s not surprising.” He sneered. I was just about ready to punch him. “Damien you fucking piece of shit.” I hissed deep in the back of my throat, anger clouding my brain.
Laughter. He was bent backwards in hysterics. “You complete halfwit.” He cackled, “I’m not even your stupid brother.”
… What?
“How could you have ever even humored me for one second. I wasn’t even trying to hide with you. I’d never need to. Look at you.” He growled, staring at me with some kind of deep, manic hatred, staggering forward at me. I felt fear rising in my chest, he was entirely serious. I felt myself instinctively stepping back while he drew closer. I’ve never felt this way before, not once. I was always fight before flight; but I could see it in his eyes. I’m staring at something inhuman, I felt it deep inside of me.
He started chuckling. Laughing. Cackling. He ended up falling up his back from his hysterics, then his neck twisted unnaturally up to face towards me. I could’ve sworn I heard a crack, and it made me flinch.
That’s not a human being at all.
“Aw, are you afraid?” He mocked, laughing still like some kind of demonic hyena, pushing himself up using just his arm, which bent from behind and bent his hand unnaturally upward as he did it. He stumbled forward and jolted upright; his legs spread out while standing, and he lifted his hands which were cracking back into a regular shape to snap his neck back into place.
“I know your type so, so well.” He started, “Michaels.” He hissed. He stood upward and lifted his arm, forming his hand and fingers into a tense, claw-like shape as if he was holding something.
“I knew you’d look in that toilet.” He took a step. “And I knew exactly how you’d react! So I played stupid with you.” He took a step. “Take a lovely guess who killed that man and tossed his ugly head off the balcony.” He took a step, wheezing from laughter.
“But here’s the funny thing about all of this, Mikester, this all happened a while ago. This exact interaction actually! You and I tango’d this way approximately 5 hours ago; but you’re so insecure that I can spell this out for you and the moment you wake up from this you STILL won’t know if this is real. It’s hilarious. I’m so pleased Damien’s pathetic split cell of a brother is so fucked up as is so I can ruin him more.” He grinned, full tooth, gums showing, right at me.
“Do me a favor and be interesting enough so I let you live until the apocalypse, will you? Your fracturing mind is pretty neat.” He said, grabbing the side of my face with a forked tongue slipping out his lips, he raised his other hand and snapped his fingers loudly.
I gasped and jolted upwards immediately, instinctively curling my knees to my stomach and gripping my head; tears already streaming down my face. I was in bed, and it was deep into the night. I cried for about an hour, I was so tired. I wanted to be left alone from all of this, I was so sick of having insane nightmares about this stupid head shit. I grabbed my phone and unlocked it, trying my best to distract myself the best I could so I could fucking sleep. I was scrolling through my photo gallery to find some kind of photos of the mountains or whatever the hell. Then I saw it. A photo of the crime scene from earlier today. Meaning that was all real.
I dropped my phone onto my bed from shock, the slow realization beginning to wash over me.
There’s a demon in my apartment. A real, undeniable demon.
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