Guilt

“Repent therefore, and turn back that your sins may be blotted out.” The priest’s eyes met mine, as did the rest of those gathered in the nave. “Repent! Repent!” The chanting filled the room as the priest extended his finger towards my hands which were now covered in blood. Yelling and screaming did nothing but cast a bewildered look on everyone’s face. The priest touched me, asked me to sit and be calm as if nothing was wrong. With a shove and a sprint past gaping jaws, I ran as fast as I could.

The run home was brief, fumbling with my keys, I realized my bloodied hands were clean. My head pounded, my vision darkened.

I regained consciousness to the sound of alarms outside of the decrepit apartment. “What have I done?” My mind wandered, but the alarms brought it back. Louder, louder, then it stopped. Momentarily deaf, I heard nothing and felt as though I were watching over myself, an empty shell. I wasn’t controlling it, and... “I WAS NOT controlling it last night!” Trying to win the battle in my head I stood perplexed. “This isn’t my home,” but I can’t think of home.

I took to the streets cluelessly, unaware of where I was, or where I was going. The streets are all the same, my thoughts all the same and there he is, “on every corner.” The words oozed from my mouth along with the sudden realization of his presence. His head, or the shadow of it, turned to stare as if it just noticed me. “There are no eyes” and yet I felt like it was peering into my soul. “It’s not real, I’ll just keep going,” but it must be, it looks just like him. I’m seeing things, “no, no, because there he is again!” My words and thoughts merged and separated with the streets, faster and faster as my pace increased.

I found myself back at the church, wanting to go in it and wanting to run away from it. I was then looking down from the steeple, it was a long fall, as if plummeting towards Hell itself.