Killing Chris

Run, oh boy, Run

As we get down to the wire it's important to note my mental unraveling upon my return back to that house. My return back to my childhood home... to my parents, would be one more nail I'd have to carry in my coffin. You see whoever came up with the saying "Final nail in the coffin" clearly didn't understand what it really means. There's never a final nail, just one that sticks out far enough to be noticed. This cruel world pounds nails into everyone's coffins their whole life you just think that magically stops when you die?

Anyway, I decided that I was going to holdout at home for as long as possible. Obviously, it wasn't safe here the killer knew where I lived and he knew I couldn't leave legally. My decision to stay in my home was filed by fear and intense exhaustion. I was finally home in my own bed but I couldn't sleep...not even a second. I begged my body to go to sleep but it ignored. The sun rose, I fought exhaustion all day carrying out my required tasks, fought a little more, lie in my bed till the sun rises, repeat. 

One night I was lying on my back staring at the blades of my ceiling fan as they spun around trying to watch one blade go around and around. The brisk night air seeped in through my window and my desk light lit up my room. Around four in the morning, I was too cold to be comfortable so I walked to close the window. I grasped the top of the window pulling it down. A hand busted through the screen of my window and grabbed my arm pulling me into the window. 

With my face pressed against the glass, I looked out into the dark terror of the night and I saw a shaded figure with his arm in my window. It wasn't the killer...No...it was worse. It was the creature from the mental hospital...yanno...the one that ate my stomach. His grasp broke through the skin on my arm and I screamed for help in a desperate attempt to end my pain.

Around ten seconds later my door flung open and my dad stood there, half consumed by sleep. 

"What is it what's wrong?" He asked 

He looked at me really weirdly and then down to my arm. Confused I look down to my arm, a knife sat pressed against the veins in my arm, small drops of blood trickled down from the wound.

"Chris!" My dad yelled

I suddenly realized I was alive again and I there the knife to the ground grasping my arm. The injury and pain were real but the means by which it happened had been tailored by my exhausted brain. Some bad part of me wanted the good part to suffer for what I had done. This wasn't the only time stuff like this happened upon my return from the hospital. A few nights later something worse happened on my way for water.

I stood in the fridge light, scratching my head. The good and evil entities clashed on my shoulders still, one begging for an escape from this cycle, while the other claimed settling down was the only way to save the good me that was left. I bent down to the crisper pulling out the drawer and grabbing a water bottle. I slowly pushed the drawer back in to avoid waking my parents up and slowly close the fridge door. When I closed the door, a body stood in the middle of the hallway.

The night shadow cast upon his body leaving no parts visible I closed my eyes. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. Hoping I could rub away the illness I had. When I opened my eyes still he remained.

"Why'd you let him kill us?" A boy's voice asked 

"Who are you?" I asked 

He turned and disappeared into the shadows. But who was he? What ill tell you is that he is absolutely vital to understanding the ending of this story so remember him. As I repeated my sleepless routine I grew sicker and sicker. Seeing the killer and the creatures from the mental hospital rush back into my life were like watching all the good memories I had fade once more. bad moves in...Good moves out. This continued for a long while until one day I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up I was...confused...No, confused would be an understatement. I was scared, scared that I had fallen asleep because I died of physical exhaustion or maybe I finished myself off. But the real reason I was able to sleep is that the war inside me had finally ceased...A winner declared. The verdict was in, The jury yells "Jump ship" so that's what I did. About six months after my return from the hospital I picked up a bag in the middle of the night. by the morning light, I was a whole city away. 

I never said goodbye to my parents and I would never get to. I hadn't even realized they were dead until I saw the news in a local coffee shop where I sat and hid from the cold morning. When I saw the information I wasn't really surprised or sad I was just wondering how I was supposed to feel. Had they finally got what they deserved? Or were my beloved parents just taken away from me? I wouldn't know the answers to any of these questions until the moments leading up to my death. I didn't cry in that coffee shop that day I just stared as the pictures of my parents came up with the news headline "cold blood killer on the loose".

The good thing about running away from something is that if more bad shit happens you just add it to the list of things you're running from. Like a rancher running from a stampede of cows as the dust kicks up behind them and death catches up to the wide-eyed ranched.

The police had searched and searched for me but it's hard to find a person with a cellphone and a car, imagine trying to find someone without either. The lack of a car was definitely a thorn in my side but the no phone thing I didn't mind. I had no one left to text. My family was dead...My friends were dead. The first night I left my parents hadn't called the police which gave me time to put distance between myself and my family. Was this the right choice? No. I should've stayed and dealt with my issues so that I could get better from this illness. 

Healed from this pain, I could've done great things for this world. but now ill never get the chance. If for some reason you're still reading my story I want you to think of me the next time you do something you're proud of and just remember that even with nothing else in this world you have that feeling. The feeling of being proud of yourself even if no one else is. A feeling I hadn't felt in a long time.

I left the coffee shop backpack on and hoodie up starting for a destination I hadn't known. I didn't realize I was heading towards something until I arrived. I walked through the streets of the desolate town and into the outskirts where my destination sat. I walked up to the billboard and pressed my hand against it tracing the letters as I read. R...e...d I said out loud to myself and then all at once Red sparrow psychiatric hospital. I walked up the main drive and right up to the building. I walked the outside of the building scarping my hand across the bricks that built it until they were bloodied. 

"Chris?"

I stopped dragging my hand across the wall and turned around. Rhys stood staring at me 

"What are you doing out here?" He continued 

"I came back to see Dr. Green," I said to him, blood dripping off the skinned muscle tissue

"You came back?" Rhys asked confused

"Yes, when I got home with my parents I was seeing things, bad things...I just want it to stop. I came back to see if Dr.green could help." I responded in an anxious voice.

"But Chris...You never left" he said.