Bewitch My Entrails

Chapter 3✓

His point of view

♠: To avoid confusion, lovelies. Just want you to know that this chapter will start from the first point of view and will go back to the third point of view just like the rest of the book. I wrote this to give light to Roscoe's thoughts. Enjoy reading, boo.

My secretary handed me my schedule and I'm just waiting for my next operation. I'm quite exhausted from last night knowing that I brought two friends into my realm. They may call it a dirty deed but all of my friends seemed to be lonely by their troubles that's why I made their burden sort of a happy ending.

Human eyes and brains are the most essential and are significant that's also why my grandfather started his deed. Some may wonder why I don't want to include the heart, simply because I'm not fond of dramas, a person's mindset, or more specifically the brain controls his whole life and the heart, oftentimes than not ruins all the plans a human being must accomplish.

Suffice to say, it has more ridiculous ways to mess up everything. Emotions are just extra baggage in one's life, a hindrance to living intelligently independent.

My grandpa was suffering from schizophrenia that's why he seriously thought that all of those organs are human beings and agreed with his thoughts.

He thought that those are his patients, he still can't let go of the fact that he didn't succeed to be a doctor. I'm not delusional or under any mental illness just to be clear, you can call me a psychopath if that term would please you but I'm just ending their tragedy by a little play, what's bad about that? We all deserve to be happy though. Haha.

That does not sound absurd at all, right? Yes. Whatever you're thinking right now, keep it at bay.

That day when my grandpa died, well, I killed him. I read in his diary that deep down he knew that all his beliefs are pure hallucinations and he somehow wished for his grandson to have a good life without the burden of taking care of an old man like him. I can still recall the sadness in his eyes when I cut his head and did that deed. You know, making his eyes pop, quite literally.

Rumors are spreading that the girl from last night, lost her child due to depression when her uncle raped her. The guilt haunted the girl in his dreams that's why she's spending all her nights in bars or clubs to be surrounded by noise because silence may let her hear the cries of her unborn child. I can see the tiredness in her eyes by all those sleepless nights she cried herself to sleep just to forget what she did in the past.

It may not be too obvious, more when you're in a place that is full of intoxicated lowlifes but I'm too observant to make a hypothesis in such a case because I'm a doctor in profession.

I think she would be glad that finally, she can meet her child. Or as what I want to believe. After all, she have experienced my game and I had a little bit of remembrance from the play.

The man I operated on last night once talked to me, told me that ever since he got his illness, the breadwinner of his family became a burden. Well, in his case he does not have a chance to survive if I want to be frank at that point. Even if he did, there would be plenty of money they would need to spend just for him to prolong his agony.

His life ended as it meant to end, by paying all his debts from this hospital. Some words of affirmation, maybe I deserve a little bit of a gift?

______________

Distracted by his thoughts, Roscoe didn't notice the girl until it passed his sight. Like a slap of feminine galore, he got a whiff of her attractive scent. The smell he liked the most, sadness and suffering.

The girl who's unaware of his temporary infatuation stands slender with all the features that deserved to be hidden from mankind. But one thing is amiss--it seems that she's unbalanced on her stance and only guided her way by the use of a cane. He walked in her direction to guide the girl just in case.

He followed her steps and as his hunch was right, the girl stumbled over a rock and was about to fall when he reached her waist. When their faces matched on the same level, he wants to recall the moment at hand.

His heart started beating fast, faster than those moments when he got that satisfying feeling after disassembling someone's entrails.

As cliche as it is, oh God forbid, that moment he knew, he was fucked up.