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Suspense Sad Contemporary

(Trigger warning: Violence, Psychosis)

Blank stares across from me told me how little I knew of the world around me. The floor rumbled above the rusty rails that have sat in darkness for their entire lives. Lights from the tunnel flashed by casting the white streaks across the yellow light that hung in the cabin. The floor was a confetti pattern. Shapes of red, yellow, and green danced in the memory of their non-faded selves. Staring at them I thought of my destination. I would be getting off at the next stop. The doors would open and the path I had walked over and over again would swim through my mind. 85th street. Businesses and people would be waiting for me but I would pay them no attention. My head would spin through the alternatives to the alternatives in regards to what I could say to her. I would have to judge how her face looked. Would it be angry? Surprised? Perhaps no words would have to be spoken for her to reach an understanding. Perhaps she had already forgiven me. I knew that wasn't true. She would never forgive me. She wouldn't even open the door. This whole trip was going to be a waste of time. Still, I couldn't stop myself if I tried. The high-pitched screeching of metal ripped me from my thoughts. My hands instinctively shot up to cover my ears. I remembered her joking about my jumpy mannerisms. She would always tell me that after twenty years in this city that I really should have gotten used to things by now. I guess that was the misfortune of being highly neurotic in the most stressful place in the world. The subway reached a shaky stop and the people around me started getting up and walking out of the car. I grabbed my backpack and threw it on. Checked my pockets for my phone and wallet then followed the stream of traffic out of the car. The station was a blur around me as I retreated back into my thoughts. My legs kept walking and my hands performed the occasional memorized task but I was somewhere else. I remembered showing up at her house late at night. She hadn’t answered my calls. I remembered us yelling. Then just me yelling and her lying there. Hands rich with blood. Her face covered, crying. My hands balled into fists. Every second, absolutely consumed with panic. I remembered catching myself as the mania subsided. I stared at the unfiltered reality of what I had done. A thousand thoughts told me to run, a thousand more that I was a monster. I couldn't move. She kept crying. I kept staring. She started to crawl away. I jumped at her. She screamed. I screamed back, I said “I'm sorry” over and over again. It was too late. The blood had made it to the floor. I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I kept running until I reached a park. I fell on my knees then on my side. “I'm a monster” I said to myself over and over again. My whole body was gripped in regret. My thoughts moved too fast. My head kept spinning until I passed out on the ground. I haven't talked to her since. The light of the New York sky brought me back to the world. People passed with a million expressions telling me how little I knew of the world around me. My eyes fell on a couple dining on an outside table. I always loved eating dinner with her. She would always change slightly at dinner. She would talk more. I loved hearing her talk. The last time we ate dinner together was at a little diner. We sat outside. It was a beautiful day. The kind of day that paints a filter over everything. Colors brighten and people look less scary. She was happy. Looking out over the street she started to talk. I just sat there and listened. My head followed along painting the pictures as she gave them to me. I saw the flowers she saw on her way to work. I saw the text from her mom saying she can’t wait to meet me. I saw her coworker’s faces as they gossiped about their lives and I saw her face in front of me. Looking scared. I stared back at her confused. She should be happy. I was getting better. She asked if I had gone off my meds again. I was still so confused. I said that I didn’t need them anymore. She started to cry, she said she was trying so hard. I didn’t understand. I started to get scared. I said the only thing I could think. Stop crying. I said it over and over again. Stop Crying. But she was gone. My plate in front of me was smashed and I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. Stop Crying. I was saying it to myself. Stop Crying. I looked at the people staring at me. They looked scary again. Everything looked scary. I needed to get home. I hurried out to the street. Eyes followed me. I got in a taxi. I wished I was someone else. I wished I wasn’t so goddamn crazy. Now here I was. Standing on her street. The concrete stairs and the metal railing along the side of her building looked the same as they always do. She was close. Panic began to shove itself back into the forefront of my consciousness. My mind returned to running through all the things I could say to her. None of them felt good enough and despite the flurry of thoughts, my mind felt blank. I became aware of myself grabbing the railing. My legs moved without thought. I still had my key to her building. I unlocked the door to the building. My body made its way up the stairs to her door. I stared at the number. I breathed deeply and glanced down at the floor. My body had stopped moving. I heard the soft piano music she always used to listen to. My thoughts slowed. My body filled with a desperate sadness. My eyes filled with tears as I realized there was nothing I could say to her. I turned and walked away. This would be my last visit.

October 21, 2021 21:10

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1 comment

Kohen Borton
16:19 Oct 26, 2021

i think this is a good story thx for helping me feel better

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