Living in the blur of "ID"

Darker Shades of Fear

(Installment 27)

Living in the blur of "ID"

Between the ego and the guilt

Everyone is hiding something ugly

I can't say they're alone in it

And you'll crash and you'll burn

You'll wreck and you'll earn

The right to lose your mind

And you'll rush, you will rage

And you'll war just to make it right again

* * *

Murderer Dies in Bizarre Twist

So read the headline of the day’s newspaper. It had actually taken them quite a number of days for them to locate the whereabouts of the body. He had no job, no life, no friends, and no real place in the world so it was no real surprise to Kenny that his death had gone unnoticed for so long. According to the story, the woman he’d so graciously spared had gone to the police and inadvertently, become the primary suspect. She had a history with the law as well as hallucinogens, which had been something they’d found traces of in the shack-turned-crack house. She wouldn’t be facing much of a sentence. Probably just some kind of community service, or a few months in jail on good behavior.

Somehow, the customary smirk and twisted swell of pride had so far failed to surface. He’d waited for it, expecting to feel satisfied with the results of his work. Instead, he was rewarded with nothing. No guilt, no happiness, just absolutely nothing. It confused him. This should be the one thing he should have gotten some kind of an emotional reaction from. He should have been ecstatic to see that Leah’s killer was dead and had gone at his merciless hands.

That wasn’t entirely true. He had been rather merciful… in his own sort of way. Oh, he’d tortured the man. That was for certain. Scarred and maimed and possibly disfigured him, but in death he’d been gracious. It was odd. Every time prior he’d imagined exactly how it would be. The final blow, dealt with Kenny’s bloodstained hands would be epic. A gruesome mess of pain and in a climatic moment, he would be struck down. In a twisted way, he would be the hero. He would have avenged Leah and pacified his own inner turmoil caused by her death. Reading the story over and over again, he was still filled with an overwhelming nothingness.

Ron had died, the paper said, from a stab in the stomach. A simple knife in the gut was the method he’d ultimately gone with. He knew, of course, that this would probably been the most painful. All other methods of annihilation would involve something sudden and quick, while a simple tear through the stomach would cause the maximum amount of pain and slowly kill the victim. He did manage a small smile at that thought, but nothing else.

With a sigh, he set the paper down and stood up and headed out, in search of something to do with himself.

He was disturbed at how uneasy he felt. It was almost uncomfortable to pace the streets. He found himself distracted by something he couldn’t figure out. It wasn’t paranoia. That he was sure of. It felt strangely agoraphobic, as if the streets and horizon blurred together as one inseparable mass and stretched out forever in front of him. It was so overwhelming… so completely chaotic. He felt himself unwillingly relinquishing control as more and more of him slipped away, dissolving into whatever had become of his surroundings. He braced himself against the nearest solid mass, which happened to be a building, and shut everything out. Nothing but darkness consumed his vision and he was thankful for this. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and silence was all he could hear. There were sounds all around him, but Kenny was deaf to them.

Just stay calm.

‘And then what?’

Take one step at a time.

‘I’m calm.’

No more hallucinating the fabric of reality dissolving around you?

He opened his eyes, grateful to see the world just as he had expected. Cars speeding down the street, people going about various tasks, etcetera and whatever. They all had somewhere to be, something to do. He used to pity these people. They were slaves to routine, pitifully dependant on insignificant things. They all had a reason to be where they were, a motivation for being there. They all knew where they had come from, what they were doing there and where they would be that night. Kenny had none of these things. Once, he would have been grateful for this. He would have reveled in the superiority of his perceptions. Perceptions he now knew to be inherently flawed.

He was envious of these people that he had once denounced, people he still regarded with no small degree of contempt. He envied their conviction, their ability to believe in something. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as their faith could not be shaken. He was jealous of their faith in simple things… things like their pets or their friends or their house or their ability to do laundry. To be comforted by their belief in anything. He wished with a quiet sort of desperation that he could be like that.

Sighing, he continued to walk until he came to a small coffee shop. He didn’t particularly like coffee, but felt compelled to buy some anyway. Maybe the caffeine would help him.

He absentmindedly knocked some sugar packets to the floor without noticing and continued to fix his coffee, so as to dilute the bitter taste as much as possible. Finally satisfied, he turned to leave and managed a few feet before an obnoxious voice cut through his clarity.

“Excuse me, Sir.”

He cringed, hoping it had not been addressing him.

“Sir!”

‘Fuck.’ He thought. He stopped and turned around, wondering what this middle aged brown-haired intrusive bitch wanted from him.

“What gives you the right to think that you can leave that mess on the floor?!”

He felt dread creep over him and the unnerving impulse to respond with the finger, or to just kill her on the spot.

Calm down, Kenny.

‘…Can I kill her?’

No.

‘Why not? She fucking deserves it. What makes her think she’s so fucking important? Why the fuck does she think I should listen to her?!’

Could you have said “fuck” anymore in that sentence?

‘Please let me do it.’

You’ve never killed a woman, Kenny. You can’t. It’s just not in you.

‘This one’s an exception.’

Even so, forget about it. Just clean it up and leave. Get out of here before you cause some serious problems.

‘I never get caught. Never.’

I’d like to see you manage that with that police officer standing over by the register.

…

Yeah. That’s what I thought. Just get over yourself and get out of here.

He took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even aware that I had made a mess. I apologize in full.” He replied in an uncharacteristic, saccharinely sweet tone as he knelt to pick up the scattered sugar packets. “I won’t do it again.”

The woman stood there with her arms crossed as he walked away. “Thank you.” She said, somewhat frightened.

Kenny refused to turn around, knowing full well that if he did, he would have snapped her neck despite the presence of the police officer.

What’s wrong, Kenny?

‘Why the fuck are you asking me?’

Just curious.

‘Fuck you.’

You and that word.

‘I’m unimaginative. What do you want from me?’

Isn’t that the eternal question?

‘What?’

What do you want from yourself, Kenny?

‘I’m not in the mood for this.’

What are you in the mood for?

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just don’t want to think, and I definitely don’t want to talk to you.’

Afraid you might think about how you feel?

‘You wanna know how I feel? I hate people! I loathe them! Stupid fuckers walk around like they’re the only things in this world that matter, like they’re actually important.’

This is still about the coffee lady, huh?

‘Fucking bitch.’

He truthfully preferred his previous desperation to this edgy frustration. People were such parasites. Ridiculous, insipid creatures spreading their contaminants until nothing remains to infect. A disease, a cancer, a detriment to the world. Kenny saw himself as no different and had never been more certain in his conviction. The only human being that had ever really defied this logic was gone, so his theory remained solid. At least something in the universe was unchanging.

He cursed himself for again introducing the subject to his thoughts. He hated to think about it, yet everything in the world seemed to be reducible to her. Six degrees of Leah Darrow. Even his cigarettes reminded him… which he decided could be partially to blame for his nervous edge. He was feeling the lack of nicotine and when he did smoke, it made him sick with memory. He fidgeted with a cigarette and finally after deliberating a while, lit it up despite his better inclination.

‘I hate this so much.’

Hate what?

‘Everything.’

Yes, but can we get some specifics, perhaps?

‘This. I hate this.’

This… what? This place, this coat, this garbage can?

‘I don’t know… just… everything.’

You’re thinking in circles.

‘… I know.’ He sighed, ‘I just… no, I don’t. I have no idea. I don’t know anything anymore. Did I ever really know anything to begin with?’

Why are you asking me?

‘That answer should be fairly obvious. Besides, you’re asking questions with the same answer.’

You’re avoiding the issue and you know it.

He flicked the cigarette and watched as the little orange and gray flecks danced toward the ground. Staring at the ashes on the pavement, he knew exactly what had been meant.

‘I miss her.’

I know.

He sighed. ‘So what am I supposed to do?’

You just said it yourself. You miss her. Maybe you should do something about that.

‘Go away.’ He ordered sharply after a long pause.

I’m just trying-

‘Stop. Just go. Leave me alone. If you don’t, I swear I’ll put an end to both our misery.’

Fine. Have it your way.

Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Kenny sighed. He couldn’t stand to be outside any longer. It was too much, too soon. Everything was far too overwhelming for him right now, and being out in the world was just adding to the strain. On any normal day, that stupid bitch in the coffee shop wouldn’t have bothered him. The circumstances were not by any means working in his favor, and therefore even the slightest irritation was enough to break him down. He needed to get rid of all these extraneous emotions, find time to collect himself and regain his composure. Things would start to fall into place once he did that.

Content with his choice of actions, he started off for his motel room. Predictably, Kenny would go about this in entirely the wrong sort of manner – just as he did everything else.