A Little, Black Book

Dammit, I'm mad

I never had much aspiration in life. From going to school, working a full-time job, and occasionally spending time with the few friends I had, I never really imagined myself ever amounting to anything other than a public service accountant.

That's not to say that I lack the motivation to aspire to do something better. I just don't have the drive to get far. I would have short, constant sparks of determination, but once I get to a certain point that is enough for me, I stop. Simple as that.

But, that did change several weeks back. Ever since that meeting...

"You're showing signs of dissociative identity disorder, Alex." I stared at Dr. Talow for a while before I even spoke up.

"Dissociative...? You can't be serious, right? I mean, that's the kind of thing that only happens in movies and shit, isn't it?"

Dr. Talow shook his head. "Although there aren't many cases here in the US, there are patients out there who manage there disorder with medication and routine visits to a psychologist." He sat down across from me and took a drag on his vaporizer. "You've noticed some things that are off about you too, haven't you?"

"DON'T ANSWER HIM."

I was dumbfounded. "Sure, I've been hearing noises that aren't there and maybe I'll see a shadow or two, but that doesn't mean I have... whatever it's called, right?"

Dr. Talow just shook his head. "We can't say for certain whether you have it or not, but to be on the safe side, I'm going to prescribe you some medication to deal with the noises, and you might want to find yourself a good psychologist."

I took the prescription that he wrote and went to the pharmacy.

"ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO FOLLOW THAT DEMENTED MAN'S WORDS???"

I blinked repeatedly at the pharmacist. "I-i'm sorry..?"

"I asked if you are allergic to green bean extract...?"

I shook my head. The noises were getting more and more louder as time went on.

At first, it didn't even bother my day to day life. Of course, when you work in a warehouse where your job is simply to go to the designated bin and pull the requested item, it doesn't seem like anything could actually just get in the way, but some mysteries are better left to be unsolved.

Unfortunately for our case, it wasn't going to be so simple.

"Listen, we've noticed that you've been acting off for a while now." My boss. Jorge. Jorge is basically the Tom Cruise of our little shindig. He's responsible for keeping us in line, or in a better term, put us away when we're no longer useful to the company.

"What're you saying?"

"WHAT ELSE WOULD HE BE SAYING???"

Finding a new job wouldn't be as hard as last time, now that we have letters of recommendation, at the very least.

Still, it didn't stop there. The shadows that were constantly in our line of sight have begun to take a more... sinister form.

The voices were also more profound. To the point where we could make out a few words.

Suffice to say, it wasn't a friendly voice.

"AIN'T THAT JUST A KICK IN THE BALLS?"

It seemed that our final straw before everything just went haywire happened a few nights ago. Someone broke into our house.

There were shards of glass everywhere. What a fucking mess. We stood there in awe of what this robber did to our humble abode. He fucked us without our consent.

We grabbed our jacket and began our search. Dumbass cut himself and left a small trail of deliciously sticky blood to wherever the fuck he was hiding. It didn't take long for us to find him.

He tried to play it off. "Oh, yeah. I got cut by a garbage handle. It reallky stung you know?"

Like hell it did. "Give us back the fucking shit you stole, you little cunt!" And here I thought I was a nice gal.

He didn't give us any other choice. I grabbed him by his wrist and bent it the same way an action figure would look like if you forced it's limbs the wrong way.

His screams filled my ears with such delight, I couldn't help at how aroused I was at the thought of others wailing with glee. "Don't go giving me all innocent here. You know what you did." I stomped on his ankle and again, he filled the air with such noise. "Or do you want to spend your entire night here in this fucking alley??"

Eventually, he told me where he hid my shit. That is, after his jaw was hanging by what little skin he had left to it. Who knows where that cuck is now. I couldn't care less.

As I walked home, I decided to stop by the local thrift shop to donate most of the stuff I had stolen from me. I'm just that nice of a person aren't I?

Still, I don't think that person would actually appreciate the way I'm handling their new life now. Of course, being the nice girl that I am, I at least let them write their few memories before they were massively shut down. 

But of course, I couldn't let them write down everything by themselves, could I?