Left for Dead

Chapter 4

Left for Dead Chapter 4

GABE'S POV

"Holy shit..." I muttered.

I just realized there were two dead people in this room with me, and two others in this building.

'It is now time to hide the evidence, Gabe.' Z had reminded me in the back of my mind.

Right. It was now 1:32 in the morning, and still snowing. I made my way up to the fifth floor again, and made the somewhat familiar leap to the white surface of the Earth.

My path was straightforward, as I knew the route to the building from the last trip. I started to run to the Agriculture and Construction building, and made it there in just ten minutes.

The busted door was still hanging on by small threads on its hinges. One more kick and the door would be defeated. I released my anger into this single motion, and the door flew about ten feet down the corridor.

Why was I angry? I guess I really am out of my mind. Was I angry for letting four of my best friends die? Or is it that I let four of my best friends die at me hand?

'Will you stop fucking around and get back to the task at hand?'

God, sometimes I hated having another personality. But for other times, I had a lot of fun.

Even after going to therapy when I was a teenager and finding out I had bipolar disorder and mild schizophrenia, I tried to have a good life with friends.

I ventured to the tool closet for the last time, and dropped the machete, with blood frozen onto the blade. When it clattered to the ground, it triggered very painful memories of my dark past that I wanted to repress until the day after my death.

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The year was 2002. It was the summer of my post fifth grade year. I was going through some strange maturing of the mind, as I thought, because I had images of death and killing crossing my mind almost all the time.

I thought it was just me going through some mental development, and that everyone had these symptoms at one time.

'Hello, Gabe.' Someone had said in my mind.

"What's happening?" I muttered. My mother overheard my speaking.

"Is something wrong, honey?" She asked me.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about something going on with my friends from the school year."

That was when Z first started interrupting my normal life.

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TWO YEARS LATER

I laid in the comfortable couch facing the ceiling while the woman talked to me.

“There are two things I need to tell you, Gabe.” The therapist had said to me. I didn’t care what she had said to me.

“You have two conditions, one that is somewhat normal, and one that is completely unstable.” She explained to me.

“You actually have a moderate case of bipolar disorder, and a minor to moderate case of schizophrenia. This is typically diagnosed with symptoms like split personalities, hearing voices, and hallucinations, along with other less major symptoms.” She said to me.

I wasn’t listening to her, as I was watching the body suspended from the ceiling sway slowly. There was a stab wound in the stomach and a bullet wound between the eyes. A steady trickle of blood gave in to gravity and dropped down onto the woman’s head.