They: A short story

They say it’s only in my mind. They say if I just take these pills and talk to this bald guy with an obvious sinus obstruction that I will be alright. His overstuffed couch isn’t comfortable at all. I feel like Alice in Wonderland when she ate the magical, shrinking mushroom.

They say I have to stop “pretending” that I am a victim. They say it will get better, that one day I will live a normal life.

They.

Maybe you can help me. Maybe I can tell you my story and you can tell me that it IS all in my mind. Maybe “they” are right.

I can feel a sharp, annoying pinch on the right side of my head, right below the hairline, behind my ear. I didn’t go to sleep with that. I can’t concentrate on anything! It’s like my mind is a constantly changing channels. They say it helps to identify thought process.

I had a very odd dream. Strange dreams are the only real constant in my life. Well, dreams and tapioca pudding. What is that noise!? Did you hear that!? Please tell me you heard that.

I used to be normal. I used to have a job. I had a car, a house. Now I have a metal framed, single bed in an 8 x 8 cell with poor lighting and cold tile. I honestly can’t remember any details about my life; I can only tell you the big things. I don’t know where or when it changed. I only know that it did.

The world around me changed. Things have gotten so dark. The sun went away. Trees disappeared (I’m not sure if they died or if they were removed). Animals no longer exist. Buildings in the city have become shells; like temporary housing units. That’s actually a good description of my head- a temporary housing unit. That’s exactly how I feel.

Oh, it burns! It’s burning my entire head and inching around to the front of my face. I can feel it tingling. What tha- .. ? I knew I had an odd acidic taste in my throat. My nose is bleeding. What is happening to me? Can anyone hear me? I need some tissue please! Some water!?

I can’t see clearly. My vision is blurring. My head feels like I’ve been on a Merry-Go-Round for a day and a half. They said I would be taken care of. They said I am important. I feel so cold, only to be washed over with a sickening warmth. They told me to relax. They said I would only be here until they were finished.

Are those footsteps? I am finally going to be taken care of. I can hear a low mumble but I can’t make out detailed words. The only way I can maneuver is to crawl. The floor is so cold. My hands are sticky with dried blood. My feet feel so heavy. It’s like they are completely dead.

I hear the footsteps pause right outside the door. This ringing in my head is getting louder. I can’t even open my eyes from the pain. They say it doesn’t hurt for long. They say it helps if I stay calm; but it’s so hard to be calm when all of these things are happening to me and I don’t know why.

The door opens. My feet stand me up at the speed of light. They’re here.