- Warning sensitive matters ahead, this is in fact a trigger warning.-
The pills left a sour trail down his esophagus and had a bitter tastes in his mouth they burned his throat as he quickly swallowed them not thinking twice about what exactly he was committing to, it made it all the more worse when he downed them without water but he needed to feel it, he needed to feel just what he was doing. They all looked the same, a brightly shining red with a bitter tasting liquid on the inside in the low lights of the dimly lit kitchen. One pill after another,major think about it just do it, don't think about what you're doing to yourself and you'll be alright. But it was a lie, he wouldn't be alright if he did this, in fact it would probably be the opposite but..he had long since run out of options and this was the next best thing.
He wasn't going to think about regretting this decision, he had made it this morning with a sound mind, and it was either this or living in an institution trying to cure him of his crazy that would never go away. And really that just wasn't an option for him, he didn't want to live like that, nobody should have to. So this was it the procedure that was supposed to fix him had fail; if he really thought about it this wasn't really that much of a shock really. The surgery had made it so that his body had been weakening for a while and these helped keep the worst of the side effects at bay, but sooner or later he'd have to face it, it hadn't worked not liked he hoped it would anyway.
The young Greg Houston had always been a little different than the natural human, ever since he was young pure age of 6 he could hear a voice, it liked to whisper dark evil things to him. 'Their screams would sound delicious.' 'Imagine what it would be like to cut her open.' 'How much would she bleed?' 'How much would she scream?' 'Rip, tear, kill.' 'Blood spill the blood...blood...' 'Kill..kill.KILL!' Again and again they came and poured these dark things into his head, they were continuous and almost seemed to get a kick out of his suffering as they plagued him even during his sleep. 'Let me in..let the blood pour Gregie boy..you know you want to let me in..' They almost never stopped for Greg and the amount of nights he had spent huddled up in the corner of his room muttering frantically to himself just seconds away from a full on panic attack were countless.
'Let me in Greg..let me have control...'
If there was one thing he wished for in his life it was to have the voice completely go away, but there was on thing he learned one night when the whispers for a second had turned to scream, an accident with the pear knife had happened, he could always make it or them stay silent for a few hours when blood was shed no matters who's it was...even if it was his own. And that was when it had started, he could silence the horrible demons inside of him, just a little cut, just a few drops of that thick, red, gushing blood and they would go away for a little while. It was so very simple! It was all he needed! A slip of the knife down the side of his arms, 'A little hunting accident.' 'A stray cat swiped at him.' He had told his friends at the bar one night when one of the sleeves of his old black an ratty sweater had ridden up showing the very fresh an very painful cut mark, one thing was for certain, it was from no cat.
They hadn't believed him calling him a dumbass for thinking that they'd fall for such a lame excuse, and for once he had found himself in the chair of a therapists office discussing everything that was wrong with him.
'Kill them all...'
A family who was essentially perfect in every way, they had the perfect job, the perfect house and really they had their perfect family, except the only thing that wasn't perfect was him. And he could see that ever time he showed his face to his parents when his brother managed to outdo him in every little thing, disappointment. They would never say it out loud or anything but is there was one thing in his life that he was good at, it was reading people. He didn't fit into their cookie cutter family, he wasn't perfect he Greg was just average, and they didn't want that. So it was that night he made up his mind it was the night he ran away and woke up covered in the dark crimson blood of a dog that..that he had killed with his own bare hands. It was absolutely disgusting.
And that was when he finally he spoke of the blackouts an underlining urge to do wrong. No to do more than wrong, to hurt and kill everyone around him, to watch their life liquid spill between his finger while he laughed and smiled. Like he had said..disgusting.
'Rip them all to pieces..'
"Its for the best, I don't want to hurt anybody.." He had told himself the morning after the procedure had gone underway, and the moment he had woken up he knew something had gone wrong. Whereas the voice was just a bare tinkling whisper before now it was a roar it filled every inch of his mind showing him horrible gruesome images of blood, severed limbs, and bodies. But most importantly it showed himself sitting among the chaos as the one who had caused it.
And as if to make matters worse it now that scathing voice echoing with years of darkness came with many other things. Or more specifically the shadows, the shadows that crept around and slithered like huge masses of oily slime in the corners of his eyes but were always gone when he had went to turn his head for a better look at them. They were gone when he had looked but he knew, he knew in his head however damaged that they had been there. They were simply playing a game with him, to see when and how he would crack open like a morning egg spilling everything inside him.
It was why he was doing this, he needed to push the symptoms down he needed to get rid of the voice, the bone chilling images, the shadows, he needed to get rid of the game that was being played. He needed to be clear.
And that was why the empty pill bottle sat on the counter while the contents rested in his stomach, he needed it all to go away and to never ever come back to him.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
