I'm Not Crazy

TW: This story contains mentions of mental illness, blood, and... murder? You'll have to talk to him about that one.

You still think I’m lying, don’t you? You’re judging me. You think I’m some kind of monster, right? I can see it in your eyes, I can hear it in the way you’re reading these words, like you think I’m crazy. You think I’m just making this up, trying to get out of something I did. I can feel it. You’re judging me, aren’t you? I can hear you saying it in your head: “He did it. He’s guilty. He’s crazy.” Well, guess what? You’re wrong. I’m not crazy. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be in here, to be in my head.

I’m just trying to explain it to you. You need to listen to me. I didn’t kill her. I didn’t. It wasn’t me. You have to believe me. You have to trust me.

You think it was me because of the blood, don’t you? You think I’m the one who… did it. You can’t see it, can you? You can’t see the other parts of me, the other selves that take over sometimes. They want things. They want things that I don’t. But I can’t always stop them. I try to stop them, but they don’t listen. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.

It was just supposed to be a normal night. It was. I swear it was. Karen and I were supposed to have dinner. You think I’m lying, don’t you? You think I’m lying about the dinner. But I’m not. We were fine. We were talking. She was upset, of course, like she always is. She had that look in her eyes, like she wanted to say something to me, like she was about to tell me what an asshole I was. She always looked at me like that when she was angry. Always.

But I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t. She was the one who wouldn’t stop. She was the one who couldn’t just let it go. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Why couldn’t she be quiet for just one second?

I didn’t do it. I swear to God, I didn’t.

I was just sitting there, you know? Just sitting there. I was trying to be calm. Trying to stay in control. I remember looking at her. Her eyes were wide, and she was screaming at me, her hands waving around like they always do when she’s upset. But I didn’t—I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I’m not like that. I’m not.

I—I—I didn’t want to hurt her.

But then—then, I don’t know what happened. There’s a gap. There’s a gap in my memory, a hole. I don’t know how I got from the couch to the floor. I don’t know why she’s lying there, bleeding, her body—her body’s so still. I don’t remember how I got the knife. I don’t know where it came from.

You think I’m lying. But I’m not. It wasn’t me. It was someone else. Someone else.

You can’t understand. You can’t understand what it’s like, can you? To have someone else inside you. To feel their hands moving, their thoughts swirling in your head, and then, suddenly, you’re not the one in control anymore. Do you understand that? Do you get it?

The voices… they’re always there. Sometimes they whisper. Sometimes they shout. I don’t know who they are. I don’t know what they want, but they—they want things. Things I don’t want. They want blood. They want noise to stop. They want to take over. And I can’t—I can’t stop them.

You’re thinking that I’m making excuses. But I’m not. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want her to be like this. I didn’t want to—kill her. But it wasn’t me. It was… them.

I remember the knife again. How cold it was. How sharp. It felt so real in my hand. The blood. It was everywhere. How did it get everywhere? How did it spread so quickly?

And now… now I’m standing here with you. I’m talking to you. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t do it. But I did. I must’ve. I must’ve. But I didn’t. Did I?

I—No, no, no. I can’t keep doing this. It’s like I’m slipping. I’m slipping again. I can’t—I can’t remember. What happened? What happened to her?

She’s gone. Karen’s gone. I didn’t—I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t want her to—no, no, no. Don’t think that. Don’t think that. I didn’t do it. I didn’t.

But there’s so much blood. So much blood. Why is there so much blood? Why is it on my hands? Why can’t I wash it off? I try to scrub it away, but it won’t come off. It’s not coming off. It’s not leaving me.

You think I’m crazy. You do. I can hear it in your head. You think I’m crazy, and maybe I am. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I’ve lost my mind, maybe I’ve lost control. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t.

I’m just—I just need you to understand. I just need you to listen.

Listen to me.

Listen to me, please.

Karen’s just sleeping. She’s just sleeping. She’ll wake up any minute now. She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine, won’t she? She has to be fine.

I didn’t do it. I didn’t. You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t.

But I—I have to. Don’t I? I have to believe it. I have to believe that it wasn’t me.

I—I didn’t do it.

But I must’ve.

God, what did I do?

I’m not crazy. 

There’s just so much blood. God why is there so much blood?

You believe me, don’t you? You believe I didn’t do it? You’re a liar! I can see it in your eyes as you read these words, you think I did it and you think I’m crazy. I should’ve known better than to try and explain it to you.

I’m not crazy. The voices are crazy. The others are crazy. They talk about this stuff I would never—never kill her. Right? 

She’s just sleeping, she’ll wake up soon. As long as the blood stops pouring over the carpet. 

There’s so much blood. They are the reason for this blood, okay? Not me. 

I’m not crazy, okay?