Escape the Illuminati

Mind Controlled Puppet

The phone is ringing, but I can't muster up the courage to answer. I am so tired of phony friends telling me they 'understand' what I'm going through. Truth is, my nightmare is my own.  Very few know what happens on these black moon nights. I can't bear to think about it, as I can hardly believe this is my life; my drama. I want desperately to cry, but the headaches begin when I let emotion come to the surface. I scream into my pillow.

I take a hot shower, put on my pajamas, climb into bed and try to shut off the voices scurrying about in my head. Please! Just an hour of peace in my head so I can rest tonight. Big day tomorrow; and I am dreading it.

I awaken to a loud noise outside my alley window. Clutching my pillow to my head over my ears, I hastily investigate the source. To my dismay, my meth-head neighbor is breaking into cars to find something to steal to support his habit. I yelled obscenities at him and slam my window down hard. I never call the cops; they get in my space and ask me too many personal questions. Sleep interrupted. I don't sleep well anyway.

The t.v. is up too loud next door and I knock on my neighbors apartment door. He answers with attitude until he sees it's me.

"What are you doing up, still? Rough night?" Brett is his name. Great guy. Wish I could let him into my soul, but Nikita would never allow it. She destroys any hope to live free and stable.

"Can I watch t.v. with you awhile? I gotta go to 'work' in a couple hours and I don't want to be alone." I tried to sound demure, even though he knows that is not one of my personalities.

"Y'betcha. Always welcome here. You know that." He was hesitant to say more, but then shut the door after I entered, then blurted out "Who is that strange lady who keeps coming to your place? She ewas there last Friday real late and she sounded pissed off at you- is she dangerous to you, Wendy? Seriously. I know you want to tell me something, but you keep it locked inside. I want you to trust me."

"Stop, Brett--" I felt a rush of dizziness like the room was spinning and reached back for something to support me when he reached out and grabbed my arm, then he pulled me close to him, holding my face in his hand and looking at me with great compassion and concern. "What is going on? Should I get you to a doctor?" he inquired. "No, I will be ok, but enough with the questions right now. You know I can't tell you even though I really do feel like I could trust you, it is too risky- for both of us. Please just be my friend right now, and keep the talk on subjects I can handle." Gently he walks me to his sofa and poured a cup of his seriously strong coffee. I like it black, like my thoughts.

Brett has been my neighbor for 2 years, and I loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him. Not neccessarily because he was gorgeous, but because of his eyes- like two radiantly reflective healing blue lights pouring into my wicked and tormented soul. He knows I am involved in something dark, but he never presses me, and sweetly, he does not judge me for it. He just seems so wholesome, for a lack of a better term. I wonder what he would do if I told him the truth- the whole messy, foul-smelling truth. Could he handle it, I wondered, then dismissed it as hopeful nonsense. I can't even handle it, and I am coming unravelled at the seams.