Disorder

I woke up today. Headache. Damn. A headache that feels like someone has shoved a metal pipe through your brain, and melted it. I do my usual routine, and I head out of my apartment.
I go to my car, there’s a dent on the side. Great. Half a grand for repair. It’s ok for now. Don't feel like driving anyway.
I hail a cab. Short Pakistani guy. First fun thought of the day. I chuckle in my head. It’s funny to see stereotypical people. It doesn't damper the headache though.
Damn. My head. Maybe I should have called in sick. It would be nice to call in and actually be sick. Whatever, I'll go; I won't be doing anything anyway.
I arrive. Pay the guy. Say thanks. Be kind. Let him have a good start to his day.
I walk in. I hate this place. I little convenience stare. Working for less than slave wages. Oh well. At least I have a job.
A long day. Dealing with every kind of person imaginable. I hail a taxi again. Different guy. Seems nice. Just drive me home. I tell him where.
Up ahead I see a little diner. I see it everyday. Never been there. I'm hungry. I'll eat there. Pull over.
I walk in. A quaint place. Clean. Clean is good.
Some lady takes my order. Brings it to me a few moments later. I ask for some coffee.
My head still hurts. I can hardly stand it. My head jolts up. I'm seeing, but I'm not controlling my body.
Like a puppet.
I black out, I remember nothing.
I awake.
People are dead. I'm holding a bloody knife.
I run out and walk home. It's below 0 degrees.
Four people were in that diner. One came out.
What happened in that diner?
Why would I do such a thing?
I didn’t know.

I walk in my apartment. It’s freezing. I left the window open. I’m a dumbass. It will cost a fortune to heat this back up. Whatever. Like I care right now.
I take a shower, I’m covered in blood.
Aspirin. Lots. Now.
No. What good is killing myself?
I’ll sit this through. It will all pass.
I try to sleep. I can’t close my eyes.
The ghosts are haunting me.
No. I don’t believe in that sort of thing.
My mind does.
I stay up for hours. I pass out.
I awake. 9. Shit. Late for work.
Wonder what the cops did with the diner.
Best not think of it. I’ll worry later.
I turn on the T.V. The background noise soothes me. Like I’m not so alone.
The Diner Massacre. Asshole anchorman.
I head out.
Another typical day at work. Is this place getting smaller?
Everything is smaller. Closed in. I feel suffocated. It’s the stress, the pains.
I black out.

I wake up. I sit next to my brother’s grave.
Poor Damian. Killed yourself at 15. So much life left.
No time to dwell on the past. I’ve got enough problems.
I’ll go to my dad. A preacher. I never really believed in the stuff. He’s a good man, and wise. He can help.
I walk to his church. Another cold day. Depressing.
This church…..
I hate churches.
Creepy.
He’s sitting there. Every good and bad memory of him pops up.
I walk in the little box. Dunno what it’s called.
I say hi. He knows who I am. I tell him. He’s shocked. I’m not surprised. I assume he will say something stupid.
My head starts hurting again.
I assume he will want to do an exorcism or something. He tells me the name of a friend of his. A doctor.
My head….
He says he can help. I’m not sure. I may try him.
Darkness clouds my vision.
I’m gone again.
I awaken only 10 minutes later. The screen is punched in.
He’s dead.
I taste blood in my mouth. He fought back?
No.
It’s his blood.
I drank his blood. What’s wrong with me?
Don’t know for now. I’ll leave. I don’t know where I’ll go…

I walk in my apartment. A message on the answer machine. I’ll see who it is.
Kate. I miss you. Too bad it didn’t work out.
I’m covered in blood. My dad’s blood.
Oh my god.
Oh god.
NO. NO! WHY!
Don’t freak out.
Not time for that.
Wipe your tears. Stiffen up.
Wash up. Do what I gotta do to make this right.
I’ll see the doc. He’ll know what to do.
Sleep. I should sleep. Haven’t slept in days. I gotta eat, drink.
I should be dead.
I’m not. I’ll keep it that way.
Sleep now. Go to the doc’s in the morning.
Dreamless sleep.

Wake up. What time?
1:30 PM?
That late. Must have been tired. Obviously. I was probably up for 24 hour straight. Including the black periods. I guess technically my body was awake.
Get up. Out of the bed. There you go. Wasn’t so hard.
Dress. Leave. This doc better not be a waste of my time.
He can help me.
My car. I forgot. Its drivable. Get in. Drink your coffee. You’ll be fine.
It’s not like you haven’t driven when you were in worse shape.
I go to the address. It’s a small building.
A therapist. Well I guess a surgeon wouldn’t do me any good.
I go in. There’s an old lady at the desk.
They take walk-ins.
That’s good. I probably should have thought about it though.
She shows me into the room.
The doctor enters. Older man. Bald head. Goatee.
He asks why I’m here. I tell him my story.
He keeps a straight face. I thought he’d be all piss-scared.
Darkness clouds my vision.
I tell the doc its coming on again.
Why won’t he run?
He just sits there. Asking questions.
My vision is gone.
Nice to know ya, doc.

I’m awake. Oh no. Woke up too early.
Doc is laying there.
Dead? Oh yes, he’s dead. Look at him.
What’s this?
My arms. I cut them up.
Wow. That’s extreme. Now I’m a danger to myself.
Run away. Far away. The cops are hot on you’re tail.
Unless I want to start liking guys, I’ll prefer to stay out of jail.
Outside.
Still snowing. I hate winter.
I drive home. Get inside. Tired again.
The hell?
Oh shit, it’s the cops.
One yells put you hands on your head.
Do it.
They handcuff me.
Pigs…

Interrogation room.
Never thought I’d be in one.
There’s a therapist. They give me some medicine or something.
I start to black out.
Oh no.
Wait a minute.
I can see and hear. I can’t control my body.
They start asking questions. I can’t talk, where are they going with this?
I speak. But it’s not me. It’s someone else.
No, that’s my voice.
Why am I saying those things?
Serial killer?
There are two of me?
Oh. I understand it now.
Schizophrenia.
There are two of me.
So what now?
An Insane Asylum
I’ll be there for a long time.

That’s weird.
I still have to go to court,
Well I did kill several people.
How many is it?
Five. I’m screwed.
I ask my lawyer exactly what we should do.
Insane defense.
Wow. I’ve got a good reason. I am insane.
Such a long, boring ceremony.
Just put me in an asylum. That’s where its gonna be anyway. Why waste time?
I answer my questions. Some other people do too.
Mostly doctors. They are trying to prove that I’m not Scizophrenic. What assholes.
That lady from the doc’s appears too.
She must have ran and got the cops when I was arrested.
So much work…

Jury’s decision today.
They said I was crazy. They are putting me in an asylum for 18 months.
That’s real nice. At least theres no jail time.
Well ol’ boy.
This is where it ends…