42nd Country Road

I'm Not Tired!

"Ev, it's just me," Jack's voice called. I put down the knife and leaned on the counter.

"Sorry," I said.

"Where did you learn to use a knife like that anyway?" He asked

"Uh, my dad taught me when I was young, I was entered competitions, very morbid competitions," I said, "In the end he said it was all for 'self defense'"

"Morbid?" Jack asked.

"They set up dummies that looked like real people, who ever hit them in the most vulnerable spot won," I replied

"Okay, morbid," Jack said

"You're telling me," I said, turning around to face him, "It's something I've never let go of,"

"Well, it's got you out of a lot of situations," Jack said

"Ya, by killing people," I replied. I remembered the knife in the camera.

"But still," he said. I rolled my eyes and headed to the room with the camera. I finally got there and reached up in the corner and pulled out the dagger. I twirled it between my fingers. I remembered when my dad got me a butterfly knife. I became so skilled in that, my father then gave me a switchblade. The knives gradually got bigger until I graduated into the actual dagger. The first one I ever got was a jet black with red stripes up the side. The was the dagger I won my first competition with. Those sick competitions. This dagger reminded me a lot about my old one. This one was grey with the almost same design down the side. I flipped it in the air catching the handle.

"You're supposed to be practicing," A voice called from behind me. I whipped around to see my father's unforgiving eyes.

"Uh, Dad," I said

"I said you are suppose to be practicing," He said to me with more force.

"Uh...Uh...." I stuttered. He went to grab my wrist. I squeezed my eyes shut. I opened them again to see no one in the room. I saw some pictures on the other side of a normal life. I threw my knife shattering the picture with green trees and black hills. I went dark.

"Get out of my head!" I said. My father reappeared.

"Then get to practice," He said, his hard, cold eyes, staring into the normal me. I walked over to the knife and pulled it out of the wall. I twirled it in the air.

"Practice?" I said, looking at him with doubt, "To practice, I need a target,"

"You have those damn pictures," My father said pointing to the images behind me.

"I was hoping for something that ran," I said hitting him. He disappeared and my dagger slammed into the wall behind him. I walked up to it and place my head on the wall next to the dagger. I grabbed it out of the wall. I went normal again. I turned around so my back was pressed against the wall. I slouched down and looked at the picture I had destroyed. I stood up and threw my knife again hitting the picture next to it. The glass shattered, and the knife slammed into the wall behind it, from all the force I gave it.

"Get Out Of My Head!!" I screamed at the wall.

"Ev!" Mark's voice rang in my ears. I pulled my hands to my hair.

"Get out!" I screamed. Mark grabbed my waist and pulled me toward the door. I clawed at his arm.

"Ev!" Calm down!" Mark yelled. He slammed me onto the floor holding my wrists above my head.

"Jack!" He called, "Get the Anesthesia!"

"Got it!" Jack replied. I was sucking in air trying to pull myself out of this awful memory. I saw Jack with the needle and I started to squirm, trying to escape Mark's grip.

"Mark, I'm not tired," I said, still squirming, "Mark! I'm Not Tired!"

"You'll be okay," Mark said in a calm voice

"No, Mark," I said as Jack dipped the needle into my arm.

"You're okay Ev, you're okay," Mark said, pulling me to his chest. My limbs were weak and the rest of my body was shaking with tears.

"I'm sorry," I choked out repeatedly. He gently stroked my hair.

"You're okay," He said. I faded into the black abyss of sleep.