Pity for the Insane

Shadows In the House

They still weren't back yet.

It had been so long.

Anti refused to believe, though, that they had all left him alone by himself. Why would Sean keep the others with him anyway? Wouldn't it be difficult to hide their existence if anyone found out who they really were?

It would cause mayhem, wouldn't it?

That's why they were all kept in Sean's mind all the time except for videos or special occasions.

His argument a long time ago with Jackie came to mind.

It was so long ago now. . . . how long ago was it? Was it as long as he thought or did it just feel like it?

Jackie had said none of them cared about him. They never did.

Of course he followed it up a few days later by apologizing but his words forevermore still burned in his mind.

'He wouldn't have ever said any of it if he didn't think it true'

By now his own voice in his head was just barely keeping him afloat.

They would have at least left a message, right? Or Sean would have given him one while he was stuck there all alone?

But no, they were gone without a trace.

'I should clean up, I guess.' Anti looked around at the mess he had created since he had been on his own.

How long has it been now? A few weeks? A few months?

He really should be keeping track.

Trash like wrappers, cans, paper plates, cardboard rolls and filled up trash bags were left around the house or just inside the door. Anti always hated doing chores. That's what Marvin always took care of along with the other's help.

Marvin could always just magic it all away.

But now. .. . .

With a heavy sigh, Anti stood up and started to pick things up off the ground, putting them all in new bags.

"You're nothing but trash!"

Anti tensed and shot up, looking around. Had he really heard that?

After a few moments of more silence, however, he decided he hadn't.

'Just another auditory hallucination, then' he thought.

He had been getting quite a few of those lately here and there.

Going back to his task, Anti finished the living room pretty quickly and then set off to the kitchen.

He had tried and failed several times to cook but it was never as good as Chase's. He'd never cook as well as him.

And he'd never be able to finish cleaning the dishes, either, apparently . . .

The plates and pots and pans were piled in the sink. He had only been cleaning them as he needs them. A plate here and there. Some silverware.