English Class Shenanigans

Disordered and Disarrayed: Mindless

Based off of an earlier piece of work I did for my Inktober thing lol. Hope you enjoy!

I've based all of the vignettes in this short series off of psychological disorders. Comment what you think this one represents :D

I am the host of my body. Others front at times but I am the one who is present the most. Chris has almost never shown her face to the public but I have never had an alter take control as much as she did on that godforsaken day.

My fingers ached as the air left my victim's lungs and my shoulders racked with sobs. Her face was a dark blue-purple, her eyes glazed over and staring at nothing. The guilt was (and still is) unbearable. It ate at me from the inside out, clawing at my gut and showing itself through my tears and my pathetic wails. I walked to the bathroom, leaving the body lying on the floor, and stared into the mirror at my ghastly reflection. I felt the anger taking over me, drowning out the guilt.

"No, Jess. You had to do this. She deserved it. You know that."

Guilt.

"No no no no no. What did I do, oh God what did I do?"

Anger.

"Shut your trap. She abused you. She abused every orphan who lived here. You know that."

Guilt.

"But she didn't have to die," I whispered.

Anger.

"Yes, she did!" I screeched. "I needed to kill her! I had to!"

Guilt.

"I had to. I had to. I had to." I couldn't argue with myself. With her. She was a part of me.

Why did I have to remember this, of all things? Why is it that the only memory carried through the switch was that of me killing someone? My head hurt. A dull aching resonated through my skull with every switch from her to me. Ping-pong, I thought. A game of ping-pong is all this is. My head is the ball, her and I, the paddles.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Why was I switching so quickly? So often? Ruby and Gina and Presley clawed at the back of my mind, begging Chris to relinquish her control on my movements. I knew that she could feel them too. The four of us were thrown to the back of the conscious mind, locked in a dark palace of our own creation. Chris laughed as we all begged and cried and screamed for her to waive her possession of our body.

But it was too late. She had control. She was the host.

She wanted us to agree.

She wanted us quiet.

She wanted us mindless. Mindless as...

And that's what we are.

Mindless. At our own hand.