Insanity

Insanity

12 March 1989

18 years old

Go away from me. What do you care what I am? I’m tired of playing this game where the only rule is to hold up our facades for eternity. When I’m alone, I let the façade drop from my grip. It crashes heavily to the floor the second I walk through my bedroom door. It crashes, but it doesn’t shatter, like anything else would. On its moulded seam it says, “UNBREAKABLE”. God forbid if you should ever present yourself without that façade. But it grows heavier and heavier. It gets more and more difficult to hold up. It wavers, and each day a little more of ME seeps into the faces of others. They blink, step back, and wonder, “What’s up with him?” They walk away and I’m forgotten.

On this night, I venture outside, leaving my façade behind. I’m going to break the rules by showing my real face.  I pass the dark silent houses, not caring that anyone sees me. I want them all to see me, to see who I am, what I am.

I turn to my left and stare at the house in front of me. This looks like a good place to start. I step slowly along the walk and quietly climb the stairs, my axe gleaming coldly, evilly in the moonlight. When I reach the door, I turn the handle, finding it unlocked. I’m not surprised. Behind their facades they know I’m coming to free them from this horror. They are each in their rooms, sleeping deeply, peacefully, knowing that tonight will be their last in this fucking carnival.

I step through the door and look around me at the faded relics of this poor soul’s past. Vases and knickknacks all in a row. I extend my arm as I walk past, knocking them all to the floor, hearing he shatter as my façade refuses to do.

I find my way to the first room. There in the bed lies on of those I plan to free. He is awake and stares at me with dull, lifeless eyes. He knows why I’m here. I walk to the side of the bed. As I raise the axe above my head, I see his mouth working, trying to thank me. Before he can get the words out, I smile with warmth and understanding. “You’re welcome,” I murmur and quickly separate his head from his neck. I reach up and wipe the splattered blood from my eyes. One down, the rest of the world to go. Then I work my way through the rest of the household.

I walk to the next house. Poor lambs. No one is home here. Maybe they’ll catch me next time. They’re probably out showing off their masks to each other.

They desperately ache to be saved. I hear their souls crying out to me. Wailing so pitifully, so mournfully, “You are our saviour, save us. Save us from this hell. We take off our masks and expose ourselves to each other before you. Forgive us. Forgive us and redeem us. Save us!”

Yes, my children. I hear you and I take pity on your kind. I will save you, each and every one.