And now Maynard saw me time travel...
"Hey man, you alright?" Morgan asked, poking me in the shoulder as I lay down, not making a sound. I just wanted to crawl into a ball and die at that moment. Maynard now had solid proof I was a time-traveler, and I couldn't imagine anything worse than that. Everything I had tried so hard to hide was now in plain view. Sometimes trying to hide something only makes it more apparent. I hate the Streisand effect so much sometimes...
I wanted at that moment to lie and tell him I was doing great and that there was nothing to worry about, but I just couldn't force myself to. Instead, I started weeping over everything I experienced during the last five minutes. Maynard was now in control of Arcadia; my actions led to all of this happening. It was because of my actions that so much suffering had happened.
I have to get something out of the way before you think that I have completely lost my mind. Sometimes, when I get depressed, I laugh really loudly and hysterically. This was one such moment; I started laughing my ass off and couldn't stop for a good forty seconds. I couldn't help but think about all the people I had indirectly hurt because of my time traveling. In the 2002 Spider-Man film, there's this one scene where Uncle Ben says, "With great power comes great responsibility." I had great powers, alright, but I sure as shit didn't use them responsibly. My biggest problem is that I never move on from the past; I almost let it define me. I don't mean to arouse pity or whatever, but my life has been hell ever since I was a kid. I remember once being in Uncle Dante's room while he was passed out drunk and debating whether I should jump out of the window. I was only around ten at the time; I should have been thinking about my crush, not thinking about committing suicide.
Dante woke up eventually, and I tried to leave the room to potentially avoid his wrath. Unfortunately, he called me over to him to have a "real man's talk." I still remember everything he said on that day; its memory constantly haunts me.
"Don't go down this road, Clive; you think the alcohol will make it all better, but it just destroys you on the inside. I don't know how I can keep living with myself, knowing that I can't function without it. It's like I'm a slave to it, you know?" he rambled in a slurred voice. He puked into a trash can about seven seconds later and continued his depressing monologue. (or was it a soliloquy?)
"It all started during my Junior year of high school; I went to a party and was peer-pressured into drinking so much that I nearly died. I swore I'd never do it again, but here I am. I remember once getting so drunk and angry at the world that I considered robbing a bank just to ruin someone's day. I grabbed my dad's Colt Python and walked in there, ready to go out blasting. I didn't care what would happen to me; I just wanted to get back at the world. As I pointed my revolver at the bank teller, remorse filled my heart. I could have killed him, but then I'd have to live with that burden for the rest of my life. And you know the rest. They sent me to prison for three years. I had to learn to be tough and to stand up for myself because the people there weren't my friends. The worst part of it all was that I lost what should have been the best three years of my life. But that's life, I guess; it's a cruel world," he rambled some more before breaking down into tears. This show of emotion from my uncle was scarce and reminded me that he wasn't a complete psychopath.
Truth be told, he did do a few good things in his life. I remember he let Grace and I watch The Iron Giant in his room, and we both had a great time. My favorite scene from the movie is when Hogarth gives Mansley a crapload (no pun intended) of laxatives. That scene is just as funny now to me as it was back then.
Another good thing he did was buy me the Silver Side Up album by Nickelback for my 13th birthday. I know some of you are saying, "Nickelback sucks," but they're really not that bad of a band. Yeah, some of their music is kinda wack, like that dreadful Photograph song and most of No Fixed Address, but I still enjoy them. Besides, life is too short to care about what people think. No matter who you are, someone out there will hate you. Personally, I find that very reassuring because it reminds me that we can't make everyone happy. Heaven knows I've tried... I focus so much on helping other people that I stop taking care of myself. Sometimes, I even stop eating because it feels more akin to a burden than a reward.
Anyways, back to the shitshow that was the psychiatric hospital...
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Morgan asked with a scared expression.
"Nothing is wrong; why would something be wrong?" I asked with a disturbing smile, trying my absolute best not to laugh hysterically again. I felt a bit like Arthur Fleck at that moment because I was laughing at inappropriate moments. I once burst out laughing at a funeral, and I still feel awful about doing it. Here's context to explain why I laughed at such an awful moment. The funeral was for Analee's grandfather, and everyone was crying their eyes out during their eulogies. Suddenly, I remembered a funny story he once told me about how he thought the moon was following him as a kid. He told me that he tried absolutely everything to get rid of it and even considered calling up President Eisenhower so that he could "blast it away." Anyways, remembering this story sent me into a fit of laughter at the absolute worst moment. Analee didn't talk to me for two weeks after what happened. I can't blame her, though; I'd be pretty pissed off, too, if someone laughed during my father's funeral. When I'm dead, feel free to laugh at me all you want, I'll put the fun in funeral.
"Something is clearly wrong, dude. You look like you just came back from war; your shell-shocked expression is terrifying. You hardly look like a human being," he replied, shaking from anxiety.
"What do I look like then?" I asked in amusement. At that moment, I felt a dark charisma overcome me. It was like time travel magnified my negative personality traits and weakened all the good ones. I felt sinister, for lack of a better word.
"You look like a corpse. Your skin is pale as snow, and your eyes are so dilated that I can hardly see the color in them. You don't do drugs, right? I mean, what caused this to happen to you?" he asked apprehensively. I guess he was afraid I would steal his soul or something.
I got fed up with his questions about my mental state, so I decided to (mostly) tell him the truth of what happened. The truth is, it was none of his goddamn business; he wouldn't understand my struggles. This hell was my own, and only I could escape it. I took a deep sigh and told him what had happened.
"I had this nightmare about this dystopian future. I saw people being arrested for no reason and heard screams of tortured people. I talked to their leader, who was the worst of them all, and he basically wanted to expose me in front of everyone," I lied, hoping that he bought into the lie. It was a nightmare, alright, but this one happened while I was awake.
"Wow, what a nightmare! Hey... you are aware that you blacked out in group and took on a completely distinct personality, right?" he asked nervously.
Distinct personality? What's that all about?
"I knew I blacked out, but what is this different personality thing?" I asked, confused.
"The way you spoke and your interests just changed out of nowhere; you also talked a lot about the future and how we were all basically doomed. Everyone thought you were possessed by how weird the situation was," he replied nervously, laughing.
"That's honestly crazy; I didn't know about any of this..." I replied with my mouth open.
"Your doctor wanted to talk to you about what happened; actually, they said they think you might have multiple personalities or something," he replied, finally easing up around me. I must have been quite terrifying while blacked out.
How could this get any worse?