Free Paranoiac by Attikus Absconder Page B

go away. Closer
and closer and STOP. I could hear him standing over me and hear his breathing.
Tears rolled down my face but I told myself it was the rain. His
clothes shifted and rustled as he bent down over me. The grass
moved underneath his feet. His mouth opened and I could feel his
hot breath on my face. “Giving up already, Sir Isaac?” He whispered
softly into my ear, articulating every word slowly and
perfectly.
    The hair on my
arms and neck stood on end. Before I could stop myself I was on my
feet, eyes wide open and ready to snatch the trickster. But all I
caught was a glimpse of someone running around the corner of the
house. On my feet again, I was running after him faster than my
brain could register. “Catch me if you can!” The intruder yelled
from a distance. All I could think about as I slid around the
corner was, “I am going to pull out your tongue inch by inch until
it tells me the truth!”

Journal Entry Fifteen
    I followed the
sound of his footsteps and his indecipherable, taunting slander.
The door slammed as I skidded to a halt in front of a small shed
that was on the other side of the house. It was used to store
lawnmowers, tools, chemicals and whatever else didn’t belong in the
main house. I walked to the door, my hand hovering over the knob.
Hesitating, I told myself that I could leave right now. I lamented
my miserable self-loathing existence, already giving up, confessing
my weaknesses, my fears, my truths. It didn’t feel right. All of
this felt so wrong but I couldn’t help myself. I was a
hypocrite.
    My hand
magnetically fused to the door and I swiftly flung it open. “Who.
The. Fuck. Are. You!” I yelled out as I stomped angrily into the
shed. It was pitch black, no movement could be heard. I felt around
for a light switch and found a chain hanging from the ceiling. I
pulled it down and with a click light filled into the
room.
    The shed was
empty. I ran around the outside of the shed and listened for
movement. I could only hear the rustling of the trees in the wind.
There was the smell rain and the clouds started to darken. There
was another storm brewing in my bones. Out of breath I staggered
back to the shed. My emotions were running thin. Why hadn’t I just
stayed on the lawn? I betrayed my own resolve but this fiendish
trickster had a way of getting under my skin. As much as I wanted
to stand here and curse the gods for my existence, I hated him
tremendously more.
    Pacing the
floor of the shed, staring at my feet, I argued with myself. I felt
trapped between two decisions: continue this mad search or go home?
The more I thought about my warm home the more I wanted to leave.
My home, with its wooden covered patio looking out onto my
beauteous back yard. And my countless bookshelves, filled to the
brim with my favorite novels and research material. There was my
oak bar, stocked full of top shelf liquor and accoutrements.
Finally there was my laptop, waiting for me to convert my anxiety
to gold. My computer where my journals are kept, were the
philosopher’s stone that alchemized my sorrow and angst into life
itself. Thinking this over, I continued pacing back and forth. I
was trying to leave and trying to stay simultaneously, caught in an
endless loop.
    Finally I
stood still and looked up into the rafters of the shed. I took a
deep breath, noticing the faint smell of cedar chips and polishes.
As much as I wanted to stay here and find out who was torturing me,
as much as I wanted to find Molly and ultimately figure out how I
got here, I knew it was best for me to leave. This house, these
memories and blackouts, were poison to me. My time here has done
nothing but batter my body and soul. This place made me even more
bitter and scared.
    I wouldn’t be
leaving this place in new found hope, to return back home to a
better and clearer life. Essentially, I would be coming home to
countless nights of binge drinking and weeping myself to sleep.
Coming home, there would be boundless