Sunday, September 25, 2011

Regret

I just killed two proxies. No. That's not right. I just killed two people.

It's all a mess... I killed Jessica. I can't... GET IT THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD.

Calm. Focus.
Start from the beginning.

I'd packed everything up. Big van. Courier van, tall and narrow. Space to sleep in the back. Space for my books. Doorbell. Knock on the door. I was distracted. Wasn't thinking straight. Too relaxed. Was talking. With Opal.
Another knock on the door. I go for the door and hear a window break. The door opens.
I'm on the floor.
I'm suddenly on my back on the floor. Trouble breathing. Something has knocked me over.
It takes a moment to realize.
Danger.

Proxies

They're in my house. They are in my house. Theyreinmyhouse
GET OUT.
Rage. Unfamiliar. It's a hot emotion. I'd forgotten those.
Stumble to my feet. Still hard to breathe. This is my place. You don't belong here.
Rage. Let it out.
A face.
KICK IT.
Stagger to the kitchen. Need a weapon. Knife.
Turn around, proxy. Back on his feet. Knife.
Rage. Let it out.
A proxy.
STAB IT.
Blood is warm. No time to worry about cleaning myself up. Noises upstairs.
Get back upstairs. Proxy in my room. No. No not here. Not her. Not now.
NOT HER.
Jessica.
Jessica.
JessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessicaJessica
Hair. Red hair. Always did have a thing for red heads. Inhale, try to smell her.
I thought she was dead. Why is she here? What is she doing here?
I start to speak.
She turns around.
Dead, glassy eyes. Not her. Not her.
NOT HER.
A proxy.
RAGE. PAIN.
Thrown to the ground. Still have it. Knife.
PAIN. MAKE IT STOP
Foot on my hand. Drop the knife.
PAIN. GUILT.
Why did it have to be her? Anyone but her. Pain. My hand. Crushed, broken.
She reaches for the knife.
NO.
She reaches for the knife. I reach for the knife.
I don't want to die.
I grab the knife again. It's already wet with blood. A little more can't hurt.
Stabbed her leg.
Not her. Not Jessica. Never was Jessica. Proxy wearing her face.
Not on my hand anymore. Keep going. Stand up.
RAGE. LET IT OUT
You can't just lie here and wait for them kill you.
SO STAND UP.STAND UP DAMN YOU.
Stagger to my feet. Everything feels shaky. Except the knife.
The knife is still there. And the thing wearing her face.

rage cold imposter deceiver

kill it


I confess, I don't remember much of what has happened after. When I came to my senses, the proxy was dead. It was... messy. There are apparently six quarts of blood in the human body. It seemed like so much more.
I wandered the house in a daze. The proxy who I'd stabbed with the knife was sprawled on the kitchen floor. The order of events here is a little fuzzy. I closed the front door at some point. I realized I was still holding the knife. So much blood. I threw it somewhere I think. Washed the blood from my hands and face and. So much blood. Cleaned myself up. Threw on another set of clothes.
There was a canister of gasoline, in the garage. I'd meant to pack it, but it would do for this.
The blood soaked rags made good fire-lighters. I took some scissors to her hair. It was braided just like...
Tied it off at either end with some elastics.
And then I set the house on fire. The place reeked of gasoline by the time I was finished. I'll need to get some more.

I put on some AC/DC and drove away. I'm sure you'd approve Spencer. I don't know where I'll go now. Can't go back home. South it is.

There's a storm coming.

6 comments:

  1. Synchronicity.
    Guess who picked me up in Montreal?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Spencer, when the hell did you have time to post this?

    Opal, WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Somewhere between trying to keep my organs inside my body and bribing our way across the border. Aren't I a stinker?

    ReplyDelete
  4. At the moment I'm admiring a wall. It's such a pretty wall.

    ReplyDelete