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This was usual for him. The weirdest things just became normal. Like the weird figures that would stay in his house. He sometimes found it funny how their menacing faces just wouldn’t change. And how they would soon become something not so scary. They would just turn normal to him. Their cold eyes and unmoving features became comforting in ways yet also so unbelievably annoying.
It was like he always had someone there but no matter how upset, scared, or sad he was their faces wouldn’t change. It was as if he was constantly surrounded by people who didn’t care about him. The never-ending feeling of being stared at while being in a place that was supposed to calm and comforting always left him angry to the point of tears. He hated it. There was no other way to put it.
He thought that at some point the figures would start to move, but they didn’t. They where in his bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room - practically everywhere. He felt gross having to get dressed in the same room that stood one of the figures. Their eyes would follow his every move. It left him feeling dirty about having no choice but to get undressed in the same room as one. He didn’t even want to get close to one so he could cover their heads with his shirts. The irrational fear of them only moving if he was close to them made him shiver. Thinking about even getting close to one and its unknown reaction would just leave him in an anxious trance.
Living with these gross feelings made him almost constantly think of a way out. He couldn’t just simply walk out the door as one stood in front of it. He could turn to windows but he was on the fifth floor of the apartment complex and he didn’t want to die painfully. So he searched his home for ways of leaving that wouldn’t be painful. The thing that seemed to hold the answer his question was the medicine cabinet. Yes, he could just stuff his face in a pillow and suffocate but he knew he would panic. He didn’t want to be in a state of panic in his last moments so the thought of being loopy, sedated, and careless seemed like a dream. So he grabbed every pill bottle and lined them up on the counter. He stared at them and walked away. He would leave this for another day.
Laying on the couch while staring at the ceiling always made him cry. The tears would make him forget about the figure in the corner of the room. It would make him think about how great life would be if all of this was just a dream. He would force his mind to forget about the one time the figure in the kitchen walked to grab a knife and just held it to his neck. That moment made him realize that he probably wasn’t just hallucinating. There was no way something from his imagination could pick up a knife and hold it to his neck.
He felt the blade. He felt the way it made him jump when it was just too cold on his skin. He felt his heart race. He felt himself hold his breath as he looked the figure in the eye the whole time it was walking towards him. And he felt the relief wash over him as he took a deep breath when the figure threw the knife to the floor far far away from him. He wasn’t going to die that day and he didn’t know if he was happy about that or not.
-
Today was the day he woke up and knew that he was going to crash and burn. So he lifted himself out of bed one more time and punched the drywall until it broke. Until glimmering with the blood from his fists. It wasn’t as relieving as he always thought it would be but it did leave him feeling lighter than he woke up feeling.
He grabbed the same knife he feared and walked to the figure in the kitchen. He didn’t have it in him to be afraid anymore. Its been a month of trying to live like this. Off of the things he had left in his house from not being able to leave the house guarded by a figure in front of his door. He lost it a while ago. Maybe when he shattered the mirror with his head when he saw how haggard he looked. He couldn’t even lift his fists as they were shaking from seeing himself in such a state. So he did what came to mind. Maybe smashing his head in the mirror would damage his brain to the point where the figures would seem like friendly people. But it didn’t work. So maybe the new thought of removing them himself seemed like a great plan today.
Once he stood in front of the figure he just stared into its eyes and threw the knife right at its head. The figure did bleed a lot, it was quite crazy how he thought it looked pretty. But his thoughts soon stopped as the figure quickly wrapped its hands around his neck and threw him into a thrashing panic. He tried his best to grip onto the knife in the figures head so he could use it to defend himself but his shaking hands did nothing to help him. So he just blacked out in the figures grasp.
-
He woke up to a painfully bruised neck and a wasted day. He wasn’t really comfortable on the kitchen floor. The figure wasn’t really nice enough to even lay him on the couch. But so is life, he would just have to try again. He didn’t really want to try and hurt a figure again as it was quite terrifying. So he might just have to leave himself. The thought of leaving didn’t scare him as he lost all of his friends due to the fact that he had an intense fear of doing almost anything that included trying to get past the front door. His friends weren’t really the best anyways. The thought of leaving his family wasn’t really saddening. He believed that they would understand why he needed to leave. He did love them dearly and hoped his love was good enough for them.
So he let go of all the excuses that delayed him from dying and started to swallow all the melatonin pills he had. He hoped that this would put him into a calming drowsy sleep that he could feel relaxed in. He took his last steps to bed and got cozy under the covers. He was so relieved that he could cry. This would all be over, he could finally feel okay. So he rubbed away the tears in his eyes and closed them with the calmest heart he had in a while. He could finally drift away with a smile on his face and a calm heart.