This wasn't an assignment, but we had a lesson yesterday about "vignettes" and I know she's going to ask us to write one, and I'm 80% sure it will have to be about us, thus I can't make shit up. So, I'm trying to get this out of my system.
How long has it been? How long have I been in this suit? Three? Four? Five years? I wasn’t sure. The days and nights were blending together. Weeks and months seemed both like minutes and years.
“Mike…” My voice was fading from disuse, not to mention the jaded hunks of metal in my throat. Sometimes I felt the need to speak, always calling out for help.
Sometimes I try to stand up. There isn’t a point, I can’t get out. I’ve tried. Maybe after another few years, I’ll have the strength.
I hope Mike is ok. He must be worried sick. I told him I would come back for him. I haven’t come back. This suit! I just… he needs me. He needs someone.
I worry the next time I see him will be in hell. Maybe they’ll be generous and send him to purgatory. But, then I won’t see him again.
Knowing my son he’s already hung himself. I wish I was there. I pray Henry was there to stop him, but God’s done answering my prayers.
But, if he did hang himself, then he would be in hell. I’d prefer it if I was immortal, and I guess him for company. But eternal hell with him won’t be too bad.
~~~
I’ve been in here for at least a decade. I don’t have a clock, or a timer or anything, but I know it’s been a decade.
I try looking into the past, before this stupid room. Those memories are fading, at least the less important ones. Namely my wife. But I don’t care. Miek is still in my mind. Elizabeth and Evan, less so but still there I guess. Henry haunts me like an overbearing dad.
Sometimes I forget I’m even in the suit. Sometimes I feel like I’m at home with my son, watching whatever movie he’s brought home from Blockbuster. I feel like those horror movies gave me too many ideas. I liked them. Mike, not so much. I think he brought those home just for me.
Of course, the illusion is shattered as soon as I move. The pain. Agony ripping through my body.
I think I’ve started to hallucinate. Mike… I wish he was there. I wish he knew. Maybe he could help! Maybe I could have been out of here by now. If not for that-
No. He was never good with these things. I think it’s better that he isn't here. Those twats probably would have hurt him to get revenge on me.
~~~
There was a nightguard here, a few years ago. Mike, I think his name was. I tried to push aside the idea he was Michael. Mike would never get a job here. Unless… he was looking for me. No! He was looking for me!
No, he wouldn’t. Mike doesn’t care. I abused him. He doesn’t want to find me. He wants me dead.
BAD NEWS, MICHAEL! GOD REFUSES TO LET ME DIE!
Sigh…… I miss my kiddo.
Just the random thoughts of Spring Bonnie! William… My name is William.
~~~
I feel like a part of me just died. Not me exactly, no I’m far gone. But…
How do I describe this without sounding insane? Eh, I’m already insane. I think my son died.
I feel it. I shouldn’t know he’s gone, but I feel it. It’s weird.
How long have I been in here? Fifteen years I think.
How old is Mike now? Late thirties I think. Oh, I wish I was there. He’s dead! I know it.
But, somehow I feel he’s alive.
No, I’m just insane.
I wish he was here. Please, if he is dead, send him to heaven. He doesn’t deserve hell.
~~~
The hallucinations are getting worse.
I’m hearing Henry and Michael, all ghostly and echoey. Not real…
I hear Charlie, her snarky butt. I hear those ghost kids, but they’re real. They hate me.
I want to punch Charlie in her ugly face. I want to hug my son and never let go. I want to strangle Charlotte Emily with one hand, a gun in my other hand, pointed at her dad’s head.
No. Gun’s would be too quick. I want to stuff him in one of these suits. I want to hear his miserable screams as he calls out for his daughter. For help.
Charlie won’t be able to help. She’s gasping for breath in my hands. I want to kill her again!
Those memories of movie nights are gone. Instead, sometimes I see Michael, always injured or bleeding. Sometimes it’s my fault. Sometimes he just cut himself.
One time he came in through the secret door, almost like he was home from work. He talked about how Charlie had dragged him to the gym, how he talked to his girlfriend. How he tripped over his skateboard, that’s the scrape on his arm. I forgot he owned a skateboard.
He looked so happy. He looked around college aged. He wore the uniform for this wretched place.
Then he said something that took me off guard. “I love you dad.”
You know when you know a person so well you can hear them say sentences you’ve never heard people say. That’s what that felt like. Mike has never said that. Right? Liz and Charlie were always saying that stuff, Evan and Sammy maybe. But Mike? He never would.
His illusion faded. I was alone again.
God, I should hate him! But… I miss my kid!
~~~
Two decades. I think that’s how long I’ve been here. At least two decades. Maybe two and a half.
This suit feels like a prison on it’s own. No, the suit is the cell, the room is the prison.
I wonder if they think I’m still alive. Does Mike still think I’m alive? Is Mike still alive? He has to be in his forties by now. My little boy is so old.
Or suffering in purgatory. Hopefully the former.
When did I suddenly decide that I cared about him?
I abused him. I beat him. And when I wasn’t bringing him to the brink of death, I was neglecting him.
Why do I care all of a sudden?
~~~
Time has lost all meaning. God is dead.
LET ME OUT!
I fell asleep for the first time in decades. The pain that used to keep me awake is now something you learn to live with.
I had a dream. About Mike, obviously. It’s gotten to the point we’re he annoys me again. I want to kill him, but not in a ‘slit his throat and watch him bleed’ way. More like a swift beheading. A quick, painless death. Better than the demises my other children had.
Still, it was nice to see what I used to look like. I could barely recognize my voice.
I’ve been hearing people. People I’ve never met. I’ve tried to convince myself it’s in my head, but I don’t think it is.
No. I’m just going insane.
~~~
I’ve stopped keeping track of the years.
The voices keep getting louder. I think they’re looking for something. For me?
No, they've given up looking for me a long time ago. Mike? I swear to god, if he’s missing.
They opened the door? They found the secret door. They just came inside the room.
They see me. I’m playing dead.
They pulled in a moving dolly, usually used to move boxes. But today, it was taking me out of this prison.
The sun was blinding. But, man was it worth it.
