After a couple of days, I broke a personal promise. I thought it was a genuine commitment; I though I was too old to be destoyed by this. After a couple of days and seconds away from my previous thought I understood that I had to avoid those 4 walls—even if I looked weak as fuck, I had to do something about it.
I put my clothes on, making sure that I looked decent. I must do it— I can’t be seen as a defeated soul or worse yet a defeatist character. I needed a walk, but walking would increase the chances of running into someone I know and have to explain my mood— or worse yet; bumping into her.
Shit, I’m paranoid.
How about crossing paths with someone else, a seer maybe? Someone who could look me in the eyes and tell me if I’m expressing my thoughts outwardly. Forget it, I have to keep my composure—my promise was broken but I still have fire left in me. That’s why I’m trying— that’s why I’m adressing the issue. I got in my car, noticing I didn’t have enough gas to wander around. Reaching the mall would be enough, I didn’t even know if I would be back. At least, I wasn’t sure if I could think in what I would do then.
On my way there, I didn’t want to risk anything; I drove at the speed limit, I put my seatbelt on, I used the signal lights (which were covered in dust) and rode with a shut off radio just to make sure I was paying attention to the road. I needed to get there. I couldn’t exhaust the posibilities. Maybe fresh air would solve the inconvenience.
At the mall entrance, I didn’t know what to think. Was I a fortunate guy because the mall is full of women or was I an unfortunate person because 90% were brunette? How am I going to know that I’m far from crossing paths with her if in my mental state every girl looks like her? My heartbeat was rising, I had no control over my emotions.
Shit, I feel so unstable.
I was aiming for those stores; manly stores—avoiding the common areas. Still, I needed to find that place or that pace to free my mind— to recover my spirits and make myself believe that I’m not paying attention to that constant and intrusive thought. Mustache and beard products stores, fishing and hunting stores, vynil records stores and lastly but not manly: a book store.
I took the first one, as usual I didn’t pick an interesting topic. I’m going for those books with an interesting cover—creepy design, dark color and gothic like vibe. I started reading it standing up, there were no chairs available. I didn’t schedule my day, but definetly this was the wrong hour to be here. If I add up the ages of the group here I will definitely be close to a thousand. That is hilarious, running from intrusive thoughts in a concrete cage only to be trapped with a bunch of oldies in a open room.
Confusing isn’t?
One of the old men waved his hand at me, I was hoping for him to ask for help so he could get off the chair. You know, that age takes a heavy toll on the waist and knees. As soon as I got to him, he started questioning me about my book tastes and story preferences. He even got frustrated without letting me answer.
“Your generation will take this world to it last days,” he told me sternly.
How did he get there? I was reading something like “Millennials work at Night” —the cover wasn’t that revealing. How did we get there?
I wasn’t mad or even bothered and I thought I must move away from him, but since this could be my last try at living as a normal beign I decided to reason with him. I sat on the floor next to him while nodding as an afirmative gesture for his opinion. Then I just let it out.
“Interesting how your generation has the courage to point a finger at ours. Have you ever thought that your geneartion came out after the big wars? Events that took America to the next level. Millions of jobs were created, the industrial productivity increased sustantially. As if this were not enough, your generation had the opportunity to live under the wealthiest time prosperity wise. Phsycologically the ego of the nation was cranked up by the media. Could you say what impact this has had on the way each individual viewed life? How easy it was for your generation to learn since you get to understand technology as it evolves—at the slowest pace possible? Damn…”
Unable to control my feelings, and frustrated because I always kept quiet when a boomer drops this non-sense, I yelled at every oldie present, “WE HAVE TO LEARN AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT JUST TO BE COMPETENT AND TO MAKE YOU FEEL THAT WE’RE WORTH IT.”
I started to feel uneasy, I can even say that at that point I momentarily lost focus of my surroundings. Even so, I wanted to walk away. My legs were not there, I started to think that I was looking for an excuse or a trigger to materialize those intrusive thoughts—which were music to my ears under that mental space.
From afar, I vaguely heard someone saying something about a hat. At least, that’s what I came to understand. He looked desperate and in my confusion I involuntarly walked towards his small store; a corner in the mall close to an exit. The owner was dealing with another customer, but still he took a second to kindly ask me not to leave.
“I will be more than satisfied if you let me introduce you to the story of my product,” he said.
The store was full of hats, but none of them looked brand new. Each hat had a small note instead of the price. I heard him saying to the other customer, “If your life testimony aligns with one of the messages on the notes, you will get a 70% discount on the original price.”
Intrigued, since the discount was a generous one, I started to look for the prices. As soon as he realized what I was trying to do, he said loudly, “They are not cheap, Son!” along with what I felt sinister, “For certain, yours lies on aisle number 9.”
I thought, should I be worried after that statement?
I was torn between the curiosity of why aisle 9 —why does he know that mine lies exactly there— and the feeling that I’m in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. The biggest issue was that aisle 9 was next to the store’s exit. I doubted that I would be able to pass through without taking a look of at least what was the vibe of the hats liyng there. I made the worst mistake; I hesitated when trying to flee. The store owner dismissed the girl, while he was walking towards me. Something about him irked me, so I froze and I tried the hardest to look as confident as I could. I didn’t let him speak first.
I asked, “Aisle number 9 right?”
To which he replied, “Yes, but if there’s no problem, I want to watch you pass by.”
I nodded, as I felt a fight or flight kind of response.
“Don’t wait for me, you won’t go wrong,” he insisted.
That was the second time he was trying to imply something. It wasn’t making any sense, was he trying to sell me a hat that bad or did he know something more profound about my character? Just minutes after he said “Don’t wait for me,” with a defiant look —he was pushing me to make a decision.
While I was reaching for one of the hats (a heavily weatherd one) a woman entered the store. She looked rushed. As soon as she entered, the store owner woke with a start, like noticing who just came in. It looked like he just woke up from a hypnosis. He excused himself and walked over to assist her.
All of a sudden, a hat fell. A lot happened in the next second; the owner stared at me strangely and while making eye contact with him I noticed that the woman was her…
I dropped to the floor avoiding her noticing my presence. I heard that she was walking towards aisle 9, even when the owner told her that she can’t find or buy a hat for someone else. I grabbed the hat that fell from the floor and wore it trying to hide most of my face.
She yelled, “What are you trying to say?!” Trying to persuade him she added, “did you tell him the same?”
To which he replied, “The rules are the same for each (every) customer.”
My heart started beating out of control, instead of in the chest I could feel it in my neck. Again, I can’t hear anything; my heart beat was so fast and hard that it bounded in my ears. I felt like I was about to faint for which I tried to focus on walking steadily towards the store’s exit. I wasn’t that far, but certainly what worried me was being noticed by dropping hard unconcious in the floor.
Even after managing to get out without being noticed, my mood wasn’t helping me much. I no longer thought this was healthy for me. I was even considering going back into the store and spitting out every thought that I had since everything started to change. With half of the courage I turned, keeping my eyes on the floor—unwilling to see her again—and made my way back to the store.
Something seemed strange, I felt the distance not to be accurate. Something was odd; I started feeling like I was in a different place. As soon as I raised my head I found myself in an empty and endless corridor. It felt like a hospital corridor when a loved one is a couple of steps away from passing to the other side.
Where was I? For how long did I walk? Was this even possible?
The only things that looked normal were the mall exit doors. I really wasn’t in the mood to wander around and find an explanation. While walking to the exit, a suspicious feeling passed through my mind. Not only was the hats store missing, but there were no other open stores. The book shop, the fishing and hunting spot and the others were all closed. I got chills— since I left home I knew that this day would be the one to defy morality. I was tired of waiting for my turn for a fair chance in life.
I know that to be fulfilled in life you must suffer; but isn’t this enough for me yet?! What the heck was happening? Was it one of the deciever’s trick’s or was I being tested again by you-know-who to prove myself worthy?
“So, this is the moment where I’m supposed to play along,” I murmured sarcastically. It wasn’t my fist time there, to be honest…
I closed my eyes trying to center myself; I wanted to touch base. Why was I here in the first place? I thought. Clearly, the primary intention of my escape was to avoid any intrusive thoughts from persuading me, and I wasn’t being succesful with it. I opened my eyes because I perceived lights flashing from afar. While I was trying to focus my gaze, I saw this woman walking towards me. She was trying to get close patiently—saying repeatedly “It’s me, it’s me.”
At the moment I thought, how is it that you believe that after all these years together I’ll forget how you look like in a couple of hours? but kept quiet. With each step she took my vision became more cloudy. She must have noticed my uneasy state, as she kept repeating, “Calm down, you’ve been through this before.”
She must have tried to ease me off once more…
That was my last thought before I went though my first interrogation with the detectives. It was the only way I could explain the reason for me to be at the police station. As I had seen in TV shows, after the detectives introduced themselves I avoided all the protocol questions by saying: “I will confess everything, just tell me what I did.”
They took me through everything that went on. I went to a closed mall —the mall I worked at as a janitor. I entered and after a couple of steps I stood still for 1 hour before my therapist tried to mediate with me. He was passing by when the authorities were trying to communicate with me. He managed to realize that it was me who was causing the trouble and volunteered himself to avoid the police from hurting me. I started crying when I realized that she wasn’t ever there.
“You tried to kill yor therapist,” said the detective closest to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Dave, your mental doctor, a good samaritan, tried to help you and he’s now fighting for his life,” he stated seriously.
From what little I wanted to hear, I had grabbed my therapist by the neck and in a flash we were on the floor. The fall was hard enough for me to fracture his neck.
Unfortunate eventuallity, but that wasn’t the only reason they were questioning me. A woman had been found dead in my apartment. The death cause was asfixation.
I guess I’ll be here forever.
-
This excerpt is part of a series of manuscripts from a prisoner who made me (a journalist) promise him that I will use his story to raise funds for his therapist’s kids and his ex-wife’s funeral costs.