Unconditionally
“They’re here,” I whispered. The line went dead, static filling up my head. They truly were here, here to claim me. The knife was next to me. The people were advancing, bloodthirsty and tormenting. I picked it up, flicked out the blade, and pointed it downwards. One of the people lunged. I jumped backwards, still huddled into a ball, but now cornered. They were here to kill me. God, this was really it. The blade touched my wrist, but not before I was struck. I frantically checked for blood. It covered my hands.
The door flew open, more tumbled it. They were filling up the house; I couldn’t breathe, the stench overwhelming me. I was going to die. I could barely see my arm; I was screaming and slashing, both at myself and those in front of me.
There was what sounded like a gunshot; I screamed even louder. I was being grabbed. My weapon was taken from me; I just kicked and punched wherever I could.
“Chrissy!”
I opened my eyes, everything blurring.
“You’re bleeding.”
I punched blindly; I wasn’t going to be tricked by this. I was going to die. I felt a tissue wiping the torrent of tears. I opened my eyes. “Javier?”
Looking around, there was nothing. No people. Just my open door. Javier held me close. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I’m so sorry.”
I wiped my eyes. I hate putting him through this. It isn’t his problem. “It’s ok. You don’t have to do this.”
“But I choose to. And you callled me.”
Of course I did. Javier got up and went to the bathroom across the hall. There was blood everywhere. I started seeing them again. “Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGod.”
“Chrissy?”, Javier said, coming back in.
“Their blood; it’s here.”
“No silly; it’s yours”, he said, taking a wet rag to my face and showing it to me. Great, now my mom won’t trust me at home anymore. We sat there on my bed, Javier cleaning up my face and me babbling random topics.
“There we go”, he said, handing my a mirror. God, I’d really done it this time. There was a long gash down my left temple and scratches of various sizes on my cheek. There was another cut down the right side of my lips and one more scratch along the right side of my jawline. Mom would definately notice this. I groaned, falling backwards on the pillow.
“Yeah, figured as much”, Javier said, putting the mirror down. He laid down next to me.
“How has your mom been coming along?”, I asked.
“Horrible. She still has the grand notion that I’m going to be a lawyer. Hasn’t budged at all, no matter how many times I’ve told her it’s my life and I should be able to do what I love, not follow my father’s footsteps. ‘But you’ll have money and I know you’ll be able to take care of yourself’ and blah, blah. Um, Mom, paramedics make a good living too. I just think she doesn’t want me to be around people like you.”
Those words always sting. Javier’s mom first found out about my episodes a few months ago. I don’t think she believes that a 17 year old should have my...condition. But his mom doesn’t know what I’ve gone through and what I’ve seen and she has no right to judge me.
We talked late into the night, eventually falling asleep, the demons far off.
For some time.