Insane?

Chapter 18:

*SHAWN'S POV:

"You know, you're really pissing me off." I huffed, sensing a presence from behind.

"Am I now?" he mocked, tapping his fingers along the top of the wooden desk.

"Look, whatever you're doing to make me lose control of myself, cut it out. I nearly hurt my mom because of you."

"I know, it was pretty fun if I must say so myself."

"Fun? You're ruining my life!"

"You don't find it entertaining? You don't find me taking complete control over your mind and body funny? Because I for one enjoy it very much."

"Of course I don't enjoy it—knowing I have no clue what's happening or what I'm even doing."

"I've been kind to you. You know, I could let you see and remember everything, but instead I've been blocking you out. Maybe I won't next time."

"Well, it'll stop soon. I'm going to the doctor and you're going to stop once and for all."

"It won't be that easy, lover boy,"

Lover boy? "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, knowing he was already gone.

Going to the doctors is going to need every ounce of strength possible. He can't keep taking control, he can't keep up the constant abuse. I want my life back. I want to go to college, get married, have kids, grow old. With a heavy weight bearing down on my shoulders, going about a simple day seems like trudging through a graveyard. Living as a constant danger and not knowing when I'm going to snap is a game I never signed up to play.

I nearly hurt my own mother today. There was a black out moment once again, where after everything blurred back to reality, the whole atmosphere was different from when I left it the first time. Dad was screaming and Mom was shaking hysterically with glass scattered all around her. I begged to know what actually happened and the two of them just kinda stared confusingly. Mom was hesitant to answer, knowing in her heart that it was truly a mind block. The whole retelling was obviously sugar-coated but the main plot of becoming inconsolable when I was warned about medical attention remained as crystal clear as the glass that was apparently thrown. Physically, that was the first time almost hurting Mom ever. Emotionally, however, had been a reoccurring hobby. The words spilling out of my mouth are full of spite and hatred, two things I'd never feel towards the woman who gave me such a beautiful life.

Don't even get me started about Sophia. I've hurt her the most, physically and emotionally. That night, that god-awful night, when my hands clasped around her throat in a fit of rage during a dream, it tore me to shreds. The only memory I have is the dream itself and the slow fade back to reality—a father struggling to hold back his son as he lashes out at nothing. A son unaware of what he had just done and a father screaming, asking what the hell was he thought he was doing. I couldn't give an answer. What had I done? Where was Sophia? Then it was all explained, piece by piece as my heart broke. I was choking her? The beautiful and sweet girl who holds the oceans in her eyes? The night of a thousand stars in her mind? The girl who smiles pearls and laughs melodies? I couldn't get my thoughts straight. Pacing back and forth, gripping at my hair, trying to prevent myself from punching my bedroom walls, I was so angry at myself, so broken, for actually harming her. Sounds were suppressed and vision hazed from the salty tears collecting in the brim of my eyes. Dad was trying to talk to me through a messy blur of emotions, eventually just giving up and going back downstairs after I had run upstairs. When hearing everyone chatter downstairs, I walked down the hall and stood at the top of the steps. Sophia's hoarse voice had already asked about me as she wiped tears from her cheeks. My breath hitched as I saw her start massaging her neck. There's no way my hands forcefully restricted her from breathing. I couldn't have done that. I couldn't have strangled the girl I'm madly in love with.