"Jake says hello, by the way", the man says, keeping his palm over my mouth as he drags me away from the door. "Wishes he could be here for this glorious moment."
I flick my eyes up and make a writing motion with my hand before pointing to the desk.
"You're in a bad situation and you want to write?"
I nod and point to his face.
"Let me guess", he sighs. "You're so scarred and upset about your heart being broken that you've stopped speaking all together?"
I nod again, and Zack removes his hand.
"Go to the desk", he commands. "You are going to write."
I do as he says, slowly hobbling over to the chair and sitting down. I pick up a pen and start writing, trying not to flinch at the barrel of the gun digging into the back of my neck.
How'd you get out of prison?
"Not important", he says. "I need something done, and you are going to do exactly as I say, do you understand?"
I make a quiet noise as the gun digs deeper into my skin and nod my head frantically.
"Good." Zack sits on the edge of the desk, pointing the weapon at my head, setting a fresh piece of paper in front of me. "You're going to write a suicide note."
On the old piece of paper, I start scribbling.
Why do you want me to do that?
"Because", the man says impatiently. "You've been under a great deal of stress. The love of your life was a fraud, you found out your memories were taken away, and whenever you're in pain, a dark side of you takes control of your body. Not to mention that the news calls you clinically insane, and your sister is a gigantic bitch."
Don't call her that, please.
"Okay, fine. But write one. Now."
I sigh and pick up my pen to write.
I used to think that I was loved. That no matter what, I would be taken care of by the man who seemed to love me no matter how crazy I am. I get taken over by buried memories, by something that makes me dangerous.
I'm tired of feeling this way, even though it's only been a few days.
When I found out the life I was living was a lie, I was so confused and hurt.
I ruined everything, including my own life.
And it's time for my life to end, so no one else has to try and care for me anymore.
I am insane, and insanity cannot stand.
I put down the writing utensil and silently hand it over to Zack, who skims it, then sets it back on the desk.
"Nice job", he says. "Seems like you really do want to die."
I'm not lying. I don't care if I live or die at this point.
"Well that's amazing to hear", the man grins. "Now, do you have any scarves or belts? A knife would work to."
You could check the closet. I haven't explored. And I've already had an episode; probably installed a lock on the drawer.
"Okay, fine. Stay here while I check for anything else. If you make one move-"
I hold up my hands and make a shooting motion.
"Good girl." He ruffles my hair, making me narrow my eyes as the man strolls over to the closet and opens the door, rummaging through a pile of clothes.
I open one of the desk drawers and shift through it, smiling as I find yet another turquoise cased phone, a sticky not stuck on the screen with the word "EMERGENCY" written in Sharpie.
I glance back at Zack, who is still searching the closet before turning it on.
I go immediately go to my father's number and start to type.
Me: I need you to come into my bedroom. Bring a weapon. One of the men is in my room. Don't respond. Door is unlocked now.
Then I turn off the device and tuck it away, quietly closing the drawer just as the man comes back, holding a bunch of long scarves in his hand.
I stare at him with unblinking eyes as I pick up my pen again.
Kill me, Zack.
YOU ARE READING
Insanity
Mystery / Thriller"Oh, my God." I look up from my hands, the blade wet with red liquid. "Hi", I say cheerily, giving him a wave, laughing as more drips onto my lap. I gently set the knife down on the counter top beside where I'm sitting, my legs covered in knife mar...
