Paranoiac by Attikus Absconder

sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, sorr- “I repeated over
and over again. I still couldn’t hear my voice and I didn’t even
know who or what I was apologizing for. Tears ran down my face and
my lungs felt like they were about to burst. I saw more flashes,
images of thick oozing blood. “Please just stop, just stop,” I
sobbed, wishing I could hear the emotion behind my cries. I fell
onto my knees gasping for air and I kept praying, praying for
death, wanting all of this to be over. I didn’t deserve this, nor
did I ask to be here, to wake up inside this shitty house with
these shitty old memories. Ultimately, I didn’t ask to be born. The
only thing I was begging for was death.
    My nerves were
raw and my body felt sore and ravaged. I knew I couldn’t handle
what was coming next. The door cracked open and a sliver of
daylight seeped into the shed. Unsteadily I picked myself up,
stumbled to the door and pushed it open with a shaky nudge. Behind
the door and bathed in light was the room I originally woke up in.
It was my old room, covered in posters, a blast from the
past.
    The room was
pristine and looked exactly like it did when I lived here. I knew I
had trashed this room a day or so ago but it didn’t faze me, too
numb and tired for it to shock me. This was nothing compared to the
gore clinging on to those tools in the shed. I stepped carefully
into the room, still shaking, still crying and begging for it all
to be over. I walked over to the bed. It was made up, pressed and
smelled like fabric softener. I ran my hand over the wooden bed
posts, looked down and saw a notebook sitting in the middle of the
bed. It was identical to the one I was recording my horrors in. I
reached for my journal that was tucked into my back pocket but it
was gone. Searching my entire person, but I came up fruitless. I
probably left it in the shed along with my duffle bag.
    I sat on the
bed and picked up the notebook. The second I touched it everything
around me calmed. My voice could be heard again. I stopped shaking
and my emotions quieted. This was the end. It had to be. Somehow I
knew this journal held all of the answers and the only question I
had left was, “Should I?”
    Half lounging
on the fluffy comforter, I tapped my fingers on the notebook. I
knew I was going to open it, I just didn’t know if I really wanted
to see what was inside. Nothing good has come from this place. It’s
been a few days, maybe longer, and nothing but bad luck has spewed
from my surroundings. This thing wouldn’t make it any better. If
anything it would make everything infinitely worse. I tried my best
not to look at the wretched thing. My addiction only worsened with
each glance. A slave to curiosity, I was the cat and my addiction
would surely kill me, or so the story goes. This bundle of papers
was black tar heroin and I knew exactly what I would do with my
score. I would carelessly inject every single page until I was
rolling on my back, overdosing. Knowing I would OD, I didn’t care,
I just wanted my drug and I wanted answers.
    I
popped open the notebook. The spine cracked and I shivered with
anticipation. I looked down at the first page. Only one thing was
written in it. It ominously floated in the center of the
page . ' Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter' it read, embedded deeply
into the paper with a ball point pen, in my handwriting. I
hesitated before turning the page. A thousand confusing thoughts
shot through my head but it didn’t matter. I was hooked and needed
to turn the next page. Licking the end of my finger, I pinched at
the corner of the page.



Journal Entry Twenty
    The moment I
turned the page it felt like someone grabbed me from behind and
threw me onto my feet. Soon the room around me melted away, the
journal was gone and I was a teenager again. I was standing in
front of a door. It was the door to my mothers' room, the same sick
room she had rotted away in. The door cracked open on its own and
bathed me in a low yellow