Mr. Gabriel [ Psychological Horror ] (COMPLETED)

Chapter 5 "Meeting Jack"

While I wash your soft, flawless back and gaze at your few freckles, the sounds of the running water gives me flashbacks of watching blood going down the gutters of an old wooden table in a concrete basement. Body parts... strewn about the floor... and medical chemicals, brain and intestinal fluids... I forget that I smell shampoo and soap, and instead, I smell everything I see, including sweat and decomposing bodies. I'm remembering who changed my life, who I was before, and why I am the way I am now.

I was reborn...

***

Over one hundred years ago, I worked at a bank as a bank teller, I had a wife named Martha and two children; one was named Francine and the other—Christopher. They meant so much to me at the time. But now the thought of having this sort of closeness with anyone doesn't compute properly in my head.

Martha and I would always argue over the strangest things. She was paranoid about every little thing and depressed all the time. Stupid bitch. I didn't understand why. I couldn't grasp what was happening to her. Coworkers told me to take her to the doctor. I dismissed everything they said, thinking it would be a waste of money. I was sure this was something maybe I could help her snap out of if she really tried and let me in. I wasn't wise enough to understand I shouldn't have cared so much.
Our fights became even worse when her parents died in a house fire. She was so distraught by the news she wanted to constantly contact the 'other side'. She performed many séances, and tried to involve the children, but I disagreed with all of that. She didn't see the wrong in it that I did.
She nagged me to the point I became a severe stress case; falling deeper, and deeper, down the hole of depression. Every time I looked at her, I'd have certain thoughts humans think are 'unhealthy'; I wanted to kill her—but I wanted to take my time doing it just so I could see the disbelief in her as she left this world. I should have. But there was this other part of me, begging me to hold back. Why? Why did this side exist? Why did I think I couldn't kill her? My conscience told me I would be caught by the police and get locked away. Francine and Christopher would be at the mercy of the state. I worried about this. I imagined there was another way...

I started going out for a drink every now and then. Sometimes I would go during lunch break, and other times just after I got off work. It became a habit after a while. But one day, I had a little too much to drink.

I went back to work and the boss saw me treating the customers and coworkers... inappropriately. They could smell the hard liquor on my breath, my eyes were a little glassy and I skipped over my feet a couple times. I remember at some point I was angry enough I almost strangled someone for gossiping about my family just a couple days before. The boss booted me out the door and said 'Never come back here, you understand me! YOU'RE GONE!' I should've gone back to kill that son of a bitch, but I didn't.

I stood outside for a few minutes thinking I wasn't about to go home after what happened. I didn't want to hear Martha. So I went back to the bar.

Sometimes when I think about it, it feels like it only happened just days ago.

I sat at the bar counter and ordered a glass of scotch. "You goin' to be here a while Gabe?" The bartender, Johnny McCormick asked as he grabbed my glass off a shelf behind him. I waved two fingers with a smile, "You don't wanna to know what happened to me earlier, but maybe I could tell ya... Boy, I'm sure Martha isn't goin' to be happy!" He took the scotch and began pouring it. I didn't realize why he was looking past me for the longest time until a man walked up and sat beside me; he wore a black tailcoat suit with a golden pocket watch clipped to his vest. His black shoes were so shiny it could've blinded everyone in the building.