Tyrant Eliza Chapter 6

6- The Fear

My actions weren’t too harsh, really. Would you feel like eviscerating someone after he or she called you sick? Well, I was a guy with schizophrenia, but still. And my back was then stained by my mother’s tears, but I didn’t understand a thing; why would she, the most mentally strong woman this world has known, do such a thing?

“Mom… Please don’t embarrass me in public, just tell me what happened.”

“Oh my dear son, your mind has deteriorated into the leftovers of some corrupted fantasy! Please, just grab hold of reality, no matter how bewildering and bizarrely shocking it is!” My mouth was zipped shut, as my brain somehow lost the ability to form a coherent reply. I just stood there, looking at the concrete tiled floor, while trying to understand the situation. Eliza placed her fingers on her lips, eyes popping out, it was obvious her mind too, could not comprehend what was going on. The old man’s eyes started to water up, and soon every single pedestrian began soaking their pupils in liquid. My heart skipped a beat.

“What is wrong with you people?” Eliza questioned the passers-by with a rather screeching voice, but not a single reply was interpreted. I went forward to cuddle her, releasing myself from my mother’s bindings, and placed her head to my chest, which she could freely let out the hurt and confusion she kept for too long. I wrapped my hand around her head, silently whispering “It’s okay” in attempt to comfort her. The people’s expressions grew terrified, as if consoling a poor crying girl was the most sinful thing to do. I raised my head up, staring at the flooding eyes of my mother, the old man and the crowd.

“Enough is enough. I shall not let this date be ruined by the puny tears of you insane people! Eliza, let’s go inside.” Still buried in my arms, I brought Eliza to the entrance of the five-star restaurant, as I heard a sentence which would annoy me a little too much.

“You are the one insane, young man!” I hastily turned my head back only to see my mother running away, still sobbing over some reason unbeknownst to me. I simply shrugged, assuming she had Alzheimer’s disease or something equally bad; after all she’s fifty five.

“Get lost, please. I just want this date to be perfect; can’t you people even understand that?”

***

And the night was perfect. I treated my darling to the most scrumptious Italian meal she ever tasted, allowed her to immerse in the splendid indulgence of red wine, and yeah, perfect. The waiters were of high morality, served us as we were king and queen, and obeyed Eliza’s rather strict requirements for a fine dining experience. It was wonderful.

I woke up that morning, still having a slight hangover from the excessive amount of wine I had the past night. I got up from my bed, faltered sideways a little, before even managed to reach the end table on the other side of my bedroom. I grabbed the cup handle and emptied all of its contents in seconds, quenching my thirst a little. I casually slammed the cup onto the table, effectively vibrating it, which allowed the drawer to open. I did not remember why, but I took a peek inside my own drawer, which I hadn’t opened for a while now.

“Since when did I leave this hair comb here?”

“Hey, I found this tennis ball!”

“Oh look, a box of condoms!”

Condoms?

My mind went completely blank, since when did I lose my virginity, or even planned to? Eliza? No way did I even support premarital sex. No, absolutely no way.

So I just threw that matter aside and went out of my room. The delightful scent of freshly baked bread attacked my smell receptors, which made my already hungry stomach growl as if I haven’t eaten for weeks. I simply let my feet guide myself downstairs to the kitchen as I spotted my mother there, standing in front of the heating oven. Yeah, she definitely had Alzheimer’s.

“Ah my dear Shadow, slept well last night?”

“Yeah, kinda I guess…” I was just about to walk towards the fridge when I saw a piece of crumbled newspaper on the floor. And no, I may be schizophrenic, but I highly regarded cleanliness as the most important aspect of a wonderful life. So I bent down and picked the trash up, with the angelic humming of my mother ringing the bells in my ears. I went to find the strangely conveniently located garbage bin. I stood in front of it, wondering at the wonderful little contents of a thousand wonders. Papers, food chunks, and some used soda cans.

And a head, covered with black hair.

“Talk about déjà vu.” I tossed the trash inside, as it simply bounced off the bloodied head, as what I expected. But without the presence of disappearing people, girlfriend-cum-witch, and extremely implausible happenings, I quickly assumed it was basically my imagination playing tricks on me.

“Shadow, will you come over here a sec?” I went over to the oven where I helped my mother carried the tray of baked bread all the way to the dining table, and it was tough, because the fragrance of the bread made me want to just dive my head into the dough and gobble up all of the contents. As I wanted to return to the kitchen, my bladder had enough, as I felt the sudden urge to adventure to the toilet. So I did.

“Ahh…” My poor little bladder finally had the chance to relax and not worry about accidentally wetting my undergarment. As I was about to leave the waste area, the mirror managed to attract the attention of my eyes. I focused on it, as it reflected the shower curtain behind me, which was slightly redder than usual. I turned around and went to the showers, with my hands slightly trembling in fear. Yes, I was frightened, truly frightened for the first time. It could be another illusion, but nothing had made my fear rose up to an unthinkable level, like what I faced that time. I gulped; as I dragged open the white plastic cloth, which revealed something that I yet again, expected.

A decapitated body.

I took three steps back, each feeling heavier than the other, before I bumped into the bathroom sink. I slowly turned my head around, as I stared at probably the creepiest mirror ever, as the reflection showed no bloodied body. It was a first for me, as either one has to be true. Was the body real? Or was the mirror telling the truth?

“Shadow!”

“Yes… mom?” I ran out of the haunted bathroom and slammed the door shut, before pondering on what I saw earlier. I heard the chime of the house’s doorbell.

“Newspaper’s arrived!”

I hurried down the stairs, all the way to the front door, where my mother was standing. I pushed her aside, took up the newspaper and scanned through it.

“The newspaper boy didn’t even say hi to me…” My mother sounded sorrowful, but I ignored her, as my mind refused to accept what was written on the front page:

“Crestion City Suicide Doctor Revealed”

“CRESTION CITY- A thirty-year-old man, who refused to be named, confessed his identity as Crestion City’s “Suicide Doctor”, who apparently “helped” victims to end their lives by brutally murdering them for a hefty sum of fee. His “patients” were people who were afraid to be branded as people who committed suicide, and thus, hired the “doctor” to take responsibility for their deaths.”

“… His latest victim, a woman who lived in the 87^th lot along Orion Road…”

It can’t be…

… Mom?