Stage 12
Message from Stephen

There came the day that I took my medication as my doctor prescribed. I fought it tooth and nail—or more like Aylese and Skully fought me about it. We all agreed it was for the best but we all fought about what it would do to us. In the next few days we talked less and less. Not a whisper of doing something insane or a rebel yell or even a small joke. I woke up one morning to silence with only a knife and a pack of cigarettes left on the kitchen table for me to remember them by. I wanted to think back at all of the fun times we had but I couldn’t recall anything-and every time I tried my brain would be jolted by what felt like a lightning bolt in my cerebrum along with a bright flash of light.

I found it hard to get out of bed after that. I mean life was quiet and I could think clearly, but that was the problem: I could think clearly. I could remember everything that happened: I could recall that I started smoking at a young age and how many times I had used that knife, a knife that I stole from a flea market, to hurt or kill others. I had done everything—it was always me. I was able to see the faces of everyone I had murdered in the self-defense by my insane mind for my sanity.

One morning I grabbed the knife and held it against my wrist.
But I couldn’t do it.
I knew what I had to do instead of letting myself go.

So, I cleaned up the apartment, washed the dishes, and took care of my laundry. Then, I placed the knife and the cigarettes into two plastic bags and put them in my backpack. I turned off the lights, left the apartment and walked down to the police station.

It was time to face up to what I had done.
It was possible that the detective they would assign to my case would tell me I was crazy.
And he would be right.

I could then lay out all of the unsolved murders from those days gone by. I could tell him how liberating it felt to have friends to help me in my times of need—but not in the way I needed.
“It’s the thought that counts,” I’d say as the detective’s face would read complete disbelief with a bit of horror to go along with it.

Maybe I’d go to jail or maybe trapped forever in a hospital ward.

For the first time in a long time, I felt genuine.

I felt happy.