Paranoia (Creative Collection)

“Paranoia”

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

• Friedrich Nietzsche

“I hate sound of silence, it kills” echoes a voice within my empty subconscious. A lurching shudder causes me to awaken to a mechanical start. My heart beats fast, I stare down at my pale hands, which are cuffed to the surface of a frigid metal table, the cold, it burns. I study the room, dark, bare, almost desolate, encased by plain white walls. A single, flickering dinky light swings above the center of the room, under which I am seated. A door creaks open as a lone silhouette strides in. Powerful, pronounced steps reverberate within the interrogation room. The silhouette, among the shadows, makes its way towards me, sits in the chair, and for the first time I see the man’s full profile: older, thick glasses, thinning hair, (which he’s clearly noticed) and a powerful presence. His cold calculating eyes study me warily, clearly wondering why a man looking like me has been detained by the authorities, he takes a deep breath, and slams a thick collection of papers down on the table, the vibration makes my fingers tingle. “Your shirt, what happened?” He asks, bluntly. For the first time I notice that my shirt is bloody, a large wound in encased into my torso, and with realizing that comes the pain, sharp like knife. I try to think, my heart beats faster than it ever has, the increased blood flow to my ears mutes my senses, I try to focus, to gain even a single ounce of memory; What brought me here? Why am I bloody? I focus hard to no avail, no answer. He studies me, puzzled by my lack of an answer. “The briefing report says here that you showed up here yesterday, a little disgruntled, ‘bout eleven o’clock, covered in blood, claiming to have killed your wife. But documents of your marriage history tell us, sir, that you were never married, no children, no close family members, just you, so tell me, Mr. Ryland, who exactly did you kill?” —

My heart skips a beat, I think as hard and as much as my mind lets me, pondering the chain of events that may have put me in this position, still — nothing. “I’m not gonna go out on a limb here, but medical records indicate that you have had many recurring blackouts, and that you suffer from schizophrenia, astral projection occurrences and that you contacted the suicide prevention line fourteen years ago,” said detective Ross, “You are mentally ill, Mr. Ryland, which leaves me with one conclusion, you never killed anybody.” His eyes intensify, like a fire gleaming in the darkness. “I did,” I say, voice quivering, legs shaking in a disturbing demeanor, “I killed my wife” I continue. “Mr. Ryland you don’t have a wife, you have nobody,” he says, bluntly once again, “despite how open, peaceful, and loving you attempt to be, people can only meet you, as deeply as they’ve met themselves, this is the heart of clarity,” he hypothesizes. “Accept the reality, there was no body found that night, therefore the cuts, the bruises, the pain — you did it to yourself — ” he states, “you are the reason you are here, sir, and you — will be the cause of your own death.” His words echo in my mind, powerful and resonating, awakening my slumbered subconscious.

Moments pass and my body awakens, and for the first time I feel in control of myself. I feel normal. The room is awfully quiet, the lone sound of dripping blood fills the room. The room’s atmosphere turns to a dark shade of crimson. My handcuffs are gone, and I carry a bloody knife in my hand, the detective’s body lies there, gone. a pool of blood sliding across the cold floor. I see a reflection of myself on the surface of the metal table, it smiles (the reflection) whispering “sometimes — you have to become your worst demons before they become you” I fall unconscious — gone far past the point of no return. The authorities pour into the room — the rest his history — I am a man, a murderer, a monster, I stared into the abyss, and the abyss stared back into me…