Numb

I finished yet another short story grinning, pleased with my work. I stand, stretching, and decide to take a shower. I make my way groggily to the bathroom, stripping myself of my clothes and climb into the shower, letting the warm water hit me. I look at my pale skin that rarely got kissed by the giant ball of radiation that is the Sun. Oh radiation, how you will be the death of us Americans that is if we don't kill ourselves from all the terrible fatty foods we consume. There's a reason why my wife and I became vegans and don't eat out. Well, more me now a days; that insane woman thinks I don't see the Wendy's wrappers every now and then. She may be oblivious to my flaws but I am not to hers. I love her but I am anything but unobservant. I guess being oblivious is enjoyable to some, hense the reason I don't allow her to read my work. God what would she do if she read some of that? Especially what I wrote today.
I scrub myself with whatever soap my wife buys me, some natural stuff I believe. I glance at the label and, yep, there it is. All natural. I set it down and quickly wash my hair before getting out and drying my body, wrapping the towel around my waist. I go back into the bedroom and see my wife sitting at my desk, reading what could only be my work. Anger floods my body.
"Christine! Why the hell are you reading my work?"
"I-I was just curious." She stutters.
"I've told you countless times not to read my work." I say, using the same harsh tone.
"Tyler I am concerned about you."
"I am perfectly fine. Why are you reading that? You know I don't like you reading my work." I curtly spit, through gritted teeth.
"You obviously aren't, Tyler." She searches my eyes, trying to soften my aggressive demeanor. I continue to stand my ground. She then darts past me, out of the room dialing a number on her phone. The next nine words that come from her mouth are the nine words I have tried to avoid ever having her say. "Hello, 911 my husband is going to kill me."

I sit my left leg crossed over my right, my hands resting calmly on my knee in a plain gray room lit only by a led overhead light giving it the eerie, cliche, interrogation room look. I shift a bit in the uncomfortable plastic chair. I then begin to pick at the black cloth of my jeans I had managed to put on before, getting taken or should I say dragged to the mental hospital after, being falsely accused of insanity by my wife. The door on the other side of the room soon opens and a sharply dressed women comes clicking in, wearing heels my wife would consider too formal. She shuts the door quietly before taking a seat in front of me. I look her over, she seems mid-thirties, around my age. She isn't bad looking, but that's beside the point. She most likely believes my wife and is just seeing how many Volts to shock me with when I get checked in for a life at the looney house.
"Hello, Mr. Joseph, how are you doing today?" She asks kindly, pulling out a legal pad so she can write down every word I say.
"Just peachy, I got out of the shower today and immediately got accused of insanity by my own wife!" I smile sarcasm dripping from every word. She scribbles, that down.
"Your wife believes you may be depressed. Do you believe you're depressed?" She looks up at me. Hell yeah I'm depressed, always have been, ever since I was in seventh grade. Only I never told anyone. I shift a bit.
"I do not." She writes that down as well.
"According to a professional who has read your stories, you suffer from severe depression." She raised her eyebrows.
"Those are just stories."
"Ideas have to come from somewhere."
She got me there. I lick my lips thinking of my next response.
"Everyone has thoughts; it's normal-"
"No it's not Tyler." She continues to write.
"It helps me write-"
"Do you want to die?" She cuts me off. I look at her my mouth a gape. "Do. You. Want. To. Die?" Yes, I did. Only the weak plead for life and fight death. Me, I accept death and embrace it. Yes, I enjoy life, but if I had to I would die. I do prefer death over most activities, but don't we all?
"Yes, I guess so..."
She nodded and wrote that down. "Lastly, have you ever wanted to kill someone?"

I stared at the blank piece of paper. I must have been sitting here for at least and hour. The ideas just never flowed anymore. I ran a hand through my hair that had grown long. I felt two small arms wrap around me and the familiar, sickening sweet scent of my wife. The woman who had put me in this numb, meaningless state of being. I would much rather deal with my own evil, dark thoughts than have these idle, going-through-the-motions thoughts. I've never hated my thoughts more than since I was put on these anti-depressants. "How are you dear?" She asks shattering my thoughts yet again.
"Numb." I sigh.
"Numb?" She says confused.
"Yes, numb. I'm going out for a bit." I got up, breaking her embrace.
"Oh, okay... be careful." She cautions. I nod, giving a small grunt and grab my coat, going out into the bitter cold. I tuck the smuggled pill bottle into my pocket. I head towards the park, making my way to the fountain that had been turned off and pour them down the drain.
Every.
Single.
One. I smile, pleased with myself. I feel a sense of power and freedom overcome me. I look up to the void that was the sky and scream desperately, "You have no plans for me! I will set my soul on fire! Look what I have become! I am insignificant to you now, but just you wait!" I sprint across the street to a candy shop and purchase enough white jelly beans to fill the pill bottle to where it was. Once outside the shop, I pour them in and throw out the wrapper. I head back to the apartment with a bounce in my step knowing my demons will be back soon.

Today was the long awaited day. The day all my problems are solved. I read over my glorious plan again, smiling at every word. My wife a couple weeks later still hadn't noticed my change in mood since going off my medication. Well she will be noticing pretty soon... I check my gun one last time, making sure it was loaded. I get up and tuck it in my jacket pocket. Calmly I make my way downstairs. My wife didn't appear to be in the living room. "Christine, honey could you help me with something?"
"One moment!" She calls back. I take a deep breath. I will be free. I will have revenge. My demons will- "What is you need?" She smiles.
"Revenge." She looks at me confused and I pull out the gun, aiming it at her I squeeze the trigger. She falls to the ground, the wound right in the heart she never had. Her eyes closed and I know I had done it. Sirens soon ring out and I smirk pleased with myself. "They will never make me numb again." I then pull the trigger and the numbness I had tried to escape overcame me.