Delusions of a Broken Mind

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Foolish, I know. Senseless even. But what else could I do? What other choice did I have right now? Where else could I go after such a struggle? If I remain here, hunting me down would be a fairly effortless job. After all, if they could seek me out at my house, then scouting me up at my workplace would be no issue.

But then again, kidnapping me in the presence of a good two hundred people probably wouldn't be the clever way to go. Notwithstanding such a confession, though, having them know my location is still not the smart pursuit and it's certainly enough to drive me bonkers.

Nevertheless, here I stand, right before the Medaka Office Buildings. I am well aware that by stepping through those entrance doors, I am endangering all those inside, not that they're not at risk of losing their lives already. I hesitate before entering and then I am in.

I greet the security guard, standing inside, with a slight smile and show him my Medaka identification card. He returns the smile and I notice that he is staring at my injured leg.

"Fell down the stairs," I lie.

"You get better," he tells me, kindly.

"Thanks," I reply, gently and then I walk away down the long and brightly lit corridor. My shoes produce a barely audible ticking noise on the white and brown marble floor. When I reach the elevator, I stand before it in deep contemplation of nothing in particular. I then decide against the elevator and use the stairs instead. In my nervous and restless state of mind, I require a good amount of movement to be able to exercise my thoughts in a more easygoing manner.

I reach the fifth floor, rush to my office, enter the room and close the door behind me as slowly and as carefully as possible. I do not intend to make known my presence. My back roughly strikes the smooth wall and I slide my exhausted, wretched and limping figure downwards. I am sitting there in fetal position, with my arms wrapped around my knees. I cover my face with my hands and start to breathe in and out deeply and noisily. In fact, the noise is so deranging that my mind becomes so light and I begin to lose focus. I start to think that this anguished noise might have been heard outside of the heated and suffocating office. My lack of a strong wit is always a good cause for breakdown. Unfortunately, willpower means nothing without intellect, wit and cunningness.

I abruptly remove my face from my hands and I am suddenly filled with a strong urge to complete the hell of a dilemma with which I have been faced. I feel the rage and fervour building up inside of me and I know that at least for now, determination is intact. Let's do this, I think to myself. It's about time.

I get up from my spot on the ground and I stare at the blood that was reluctantly wiped off of my head with the sleeve of my shirt to prevent attracting anyone's attention on the street or in the building. I couldn't possibly afford to explain my situation to anyone whatsoever. After all, I was doing as much as I can to glue the events of the precarious circumstance together without having to cause a fuss among others who aren't involved. Most of all, divulging my case would not help me. I am fragile right now and I need to pull myself together if I am going to get anywhere at all. That is all I need to do right now. Teach yourself to overcome. Pull yourself together. Put the pieces of your soul back into place. Back into one piece.

Of course, there is always the other part of me, the vastly discouraging part, that is. Camellia, you are weak. You are far too weak. You are breaking. You are shattering. Rest. Die. It is your safest way out.

Rest. Die. Man, how tempting those words are! Rest. Die. How easy. How nerve-wracking. The more I think of my hopeless situation, the more I look towards that option and the more I realize how pathetic and foolish it would be to cross it off my list. Rest. Die. It sounds so right now. Sounds. But is it right?