Crimson leaves crept silently from their branches in the night, pushed down by the sharp evening wind. The descent of the leaves was made visible only by a lone street light, its orange light illuminating a portion the road ahead as well. My own feet stumbled down that road, quietly crushing the dry leaves with every step. In my hands, there was a small brown box which carried the souvenirs of my incompetence.
That day, my boss had crashed into my office to fire me. As much as my job and I had a sense of mutual hatred, I was still devastated. Working in a cubicle had been, until now, my only source of income. Having not slept the previous evening and the social isolation that had so ransacked my mind, I broke down in front of every person in the building, begging my boss not to abandon me. There was not a length I wouldn’t go to fix things, yet my boss still saw my flaws as fact. After much yelling, and admittedly the calling of security, I had been convinced forcibly to pack my things and leave.
Tears of self loathing slithered down my face as I wearily staggered into my small home. I stood outside for what felt like much too long, attempting to enter my house with my keys. Eventually, I did succeed. I slunk quickly into the confines of my home, hoping no neighbors had been awake to see me fumble about with keys for five minutes. After a few sharp breaths and some mild frustration, I returned to a feeling as close to calm as possible.
My eyes quickly twitched around my dimly lit abode, taking in the overwhelming sight of failure. Dishes crusted with food formed a heap in my sink, my counter remained covered in grocery bags and untaken pills, and dirty clothes obscured every inch of the floor. I glared at my surroundings with passionate hatred. I scolded myself for my lack of living standards, yet was much too troubled by the current situation to be motivated enough to clean it.
I dropped my box and slowly crumbled onto my couch, my tears and my wheezing tied together in the perfect storm of misery. In between bursts of pathetic sobbing, I allowed myself to reflect upon my inadequacy further. I had likely lost all control of my life as the messy heaps in my home and my mind began to obscure the very person I had been. My life is controlled by the chains I had restrained myself with. Even I began to chuckle at the purely piteous state I am in and the epicaricacy of viewing my own agony.
I cried, laughed, and coughed myself to sleep upon my couch. The light of the television left on in my slumber flickered gently in the room, casting a pale glow upon all that could be touched by it. My tangled emotions went dormant as my frame began to heave up and down in the subtle patterns of slumber. I slept without fear of a nightmare, as surely the life I forced upon myself is more frightening than anything my knotted mind can conjure.
—
Without provocation, my eyes violently jerked open. The room remained consistent to my previous viewing of it, aside from the static that now occupied the television screen. I could not rationalize it, but a feeling of pure unease and dread penetrated my soul. I likely could not trust my own mind anymore. Paranoia and Delusion are often untrustworthy emotions in addition to the incomprehensible nature of my brain. I prepared to return to sleep, but stopped myself as I had forgotten to take my pills yet again, and my lack of sedation was clearly having an effect upon my mental state.
My ascent to my feet was halted quickly by a cold and sharp feeling upon my wrists and ankles. My head shakily twitched down to observe. In the pale light of the static television, I saw… chains. I let out a silent airy scream, followed by a burst of coughing. I felt unable to move. That was not only from the binding, but the restrictions my subconscious placed upon me.
All thoughts of self loathing or any feeling of control quickly fled my body as I bore witness to what I could only describe as Dread incarnate. A tall and thin humanoid figure stood above me, observing my frozen state. The features of the figure visible in the dim light were practically indescribable, and those that might have been effable were obscured in the shadows casted by the light.
I saw something hover above my body, perhaps a hand. I wished for the mercy of death or at the very least to close my eyes, yet I forced myself to observe the eerie sight of my situation. The hand-like shape descended jerkily onto my face. I twisted forcefully against my restraints, hoping for any small chance of escape. As always, I lacked control over everything that controls me.
The cold rush of a hand grasping my jaw halted my anxious thoughts once more; they were replaced only by trembling panic. The fingers lightly wandered through every inch of my face. I could not move. I could not escape. I was trapped. Tears began to escape from my reddened eyes, likely wetting the cold hand.
I gathered up the last bit of will that I might’ve had and made a wheezing attempt to scream. Only a hoarse, airy sound rushed out, a sort of whispered scream. The obscured frame of the figure convulsed with the sharp sounds of my lungs. The hand gripped my neck with furious speed and force; sending cold chills all through my body. Its face leaned down, getting almost close enough to feel my shallow breaths. The face continued its descent until it became illuminated in the dim static.
Shock clawed at my brain, stripping me of any remaining human senses. I saw what might have been recognizable as my own face, had it not been stretched and torn to fit on the head of the figure. It was unsettling to see my already ugly face distorted into uncanniness. I struggled against my chains yet again, with no avail. The hand that did not lay upon my neck staggered up toward the face the figure had plastered upon itself. I flailed in pain and terror, coughing with every movement. The reflection of my own defectiveness gripped me forcefully still, leaving me utterly helpless and futile.
What I saw then caused my misery, my demise, and my realization. The thin hand opposite to the one that restrained me had reached the distorted mask of my ugliness. As the face was lifted up, I saw an ineffable concoction of pain and terror. I convulsed more, forgetting even then how to breathe. I gave way to the realization that the only thing holding me back from control over my life is simply myself. I flailed and coughed, scorning my patheticness. I accepted my wheezing and painful way out of the hell I placed myself in. With that regret and hatred, I allowed my heart to stop beating and for my senses to go numb.
