“What’s wrong whit you?” He says, lifting up his notebook and stroking at the edge, as he flips over the pages and puts his pen into a wedge.
“What’s wrong whit me?” I answer
“Yes that’s what I asked” he continues as I lay down taking of my mask.
“Well I guess that I am lonely, I sometimes feel distressed. Though I have many friends I feel it none the less” the room becomes dark, a lamp upon his desk it blinds my sight in part I can only see his legs.
“How does that make you feel?” he asked while he taps his shoes. I think about my wife... Or… maybe my abuse.
“I told you I feel lonely, does none of this go through? Do you even listen? Do you even know what to do?” I respond sitting up looking at his feet. Though I was only angry because he pushed me to retreat.
“Please do not be angry, just sit back and relax. We will both get through this just think about the past.”
“The past?”
“The past. What’s the first thing you remember?” I thought about it hard I gave it quite a while. I felt it in my heart. When I was just a child
“well the first thing I remember was sitting by my bed. Looking out the window at our garden shed.”
“A shed?”
“That’s what i said” this man is not that bright he is probably brain dead.
“Is there anything particular about this garden shed?”
I watch his fading knees while shaking on my head, “it is just a garden, and it is just a shed" I hear him write on paper, I wonder what I said.
“Do you tell yourself that often? That this is just a shed?”
Do I tell myself that often? Is that what he said? Everyone is stupid. I wish that I was dead. I wish that just this morning I never got out of my bed.
“No Mr genius, it’s just a fucking shed!”
The tapping suddenly stopped as he leaned towards the light. “There is more to that shed. You know that I am right. Those bricks, those brick, you’re daddy never fixed. And the shades of bricks where a curios little mix. But have you completely forgot the tapping on the door? The little girl in red lying on the floor? The little boy in blue crying cause he knew. The little girl was dead, the girl that you’d adore?”
I was quiet. “The shed?”
“The shed” I cry into my hands.
“You used to hear them scream lying in your bed.”
“Oh god!”
“You used to watch him leave early in the day.”
“Shut up!”
“He would bring them in your home, telling them to stay”
“SHUT IT!”
“And He would only smile when they had kissed him for a while.”
“FUCKING STOP TALKING!!!”
“And then he’d pull them down,”
“No he never did that”
“Push them to the ground”
“Please”
“Siting in your corner, you would just be there. “
“No”
“Dad would hit them harder, but you would only stare”
“…”
“Cause he told you to write down, on your paper note by note.”
“Please, please”
“What happened to their face,”
“No more”
“When he cuts their throat”
“I don’t want to talk anymore” I cry trying to get out. But I can’t. No matter where I turn I’m still in this same room. I finally find a window pushing at its glass, but then my eyes see through the squares of its misty vail. Outside the sky is pouring. On the glass each drop will leave its trail. But outside in the garden the mist will soon unveil.
“The shed” he said. Laughing on his exhale.
“No. but it’s impossible. Its. Not there anymore”
“is it different from before?”
“No it looks just the same” I swallow jet a tear as I watch it burst in flame.
“Do you remember now?” he asks. While I fall to my knees and cry.
“Please I don’t want to remember”
“Remember! Remember! THE LITTLE GIRL THAT YOU SAW? YOUR SPECIAL LITTLE FRIEND, THE ONE THAT LIKED TO DRAW? THE ONE YOU MEET IN CLASS A PRETTY LITTLE LASS. YOU DECIDED TO TAKE HOME TO PLAY OUT IN THE GRASS!”
“No not this please, anything but this”
“Your dad like her to, didn’t he?”
“No, I don’t have a dad. Please shut up”
“the little girl in the shed.”
“NO!!”
“Hammering on the door. Do you remember her cry? When he told her she’s a whore? Do you remember when she screamed, as he dragged her through that door? Do you remember what came next?”
I grabbed a book and threw it away. “Shut up your stupid! I’m done for today!”
“But this is just the fun part, don’t you wana stay?”
I jump across the room and hit him in the face, he flies down to the floor and after him I chase. I fill myself whit urge, that can’t be kept at bay. I want to make him hurt, she would be 23 today. And as I her him scream, beg of me to stop. I twist his stupid head until I hear it pop. Cause all that I can hear is the screams that never end, the crying of a girl. That only was my friend.
But then I fall awake. Still lying in my bed. Still sitting in my house, but my fists are painted red. I bang my head against the wall, screaming out in pain. Trying to sit still, finding something to explain. The reason I see death sleeping by my chest. Cause my wife she has no breath, but I think that she’s just stressed. Right?
