Imposters

I'm supposed to be studying for a final tomorrow...what am I doing?

It has to stop.  My sanity is shredding apart bit by bit every day.  I am unsure of what’s real.  Will these horrors ever leave me?  My family is no longer my own.  They look unchanged, they have the same mannerisms, but the eyes seem to be made of glass.  There’s no depth or warmth to be found in my wife’s gaze.  All of her expressions are icy and manic these days and my boy’s smile looks hollow, almost sinister.

I am living in my own tomb.  The walls are closing in on me.  I still try to shake these feelings and perform as expected but it is getting harder and harder.

Last night, I was tucking in my boy.  Every time I made eye contact with him I felt a chill, an animalistic reaction urging me to run away.  But I ignored it. 

“I love you Daddy,”  he said, his voice almost mischievous as I finished reading him his bedtime story. 

“I love you too son,”  I tried my best to sound genuine as I got up to leave.  “Goodnight”.

I turned towards the door, a part of me not wanting to turn my back on my own son.  There was a small figure in the door way.  I froze.

“…Daddy?”  a small voice that instantly triggered my paternal instinct escaped from the shadowy figure in the doorway.  His voice sounded shaky, tired, and filled with fear.  “Who’s in my bed?”

I stopped breathing.  I wanted to scream.  I turned sharply to see the imposter, still appearing as my son, smiling widely.  “Are you okay, Daddy?” he said amused.

I couldn’t speak.  I felt cold all over.  I turned back towards the doorway to find my wife.  The shadow of my son had disappeared.

“Are you okay honey?”  She approached me slowly, dread washing over me. 

“I’m fine..” I managed to choke out.  She tilted her head and put her hand on my shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”  She said devoid of any genuine emotion.

“Okay,”  I said weakly.  I knew that I had to play my part.  I didn’t know what would happen if I stopped playing pretend but I didn’t want to find out. 

I didn’t sleep very much.  There was a moment when I nearly got up the courage to get out of bed and leave but as if reading my thoughts, my wife turned over and lay across my chest.  I felt sick to my stomach as she nuzzled closer throughout the night.  The darkness in the bedroom was inky and oppressive as I struggled to stay sane.

This morning I grabbed a few extra things on the way to work.  I have a change of clothes, a couple of granola bars, and the gun I had hidden away in my sock drawer. 

I couldn’t focus on my work all day.  My nerves were getting the best of me and several of my co-workers commented on my haggard appearance but I somehow made it through. 

I just pulled up to the motel that I intend to stay at for the night while I figure out my next move.  It’s not a place I would ever choose to stay at but anything is better than that hellish place that I used to call home. 

I go through the motions with the big woman behind the counter at the check-in.  She doesn’t seem to bat an eye at my clearly distressed state.  I’m sure she’s seen it all as she lazily hands me my room key.

The room looks terrible and has a sour smell but I feel a sense of security as I lock the dead bolt.  I take a moment to lean against the door and let out a sigh.  There’s still a lot that I will need to figure out but I want to enjoy this moment.  My stress seems to melt away as I put my briefcase down on the bed and loosen my tie. 

I head to the bathroom and look in the mirror.  I look awful.  I decide to take a shower but before I do I take out my gun and lay it on the bathroom counter for easy access.  It makes me feel safe.  I put the water as hot as I can stand and step in.  The water pressure isn’t ideal but the heat does the trick and soon I’m feeling elated.  I had no idea how oppressive that house had become until now.

I take longer than normal and I grab the motel towel once I’m finished.  It smells slightly of mildew.  I can see a huge difference in my appearance as I pass the mirror, but something makes me stop in my tracks.

I feel nauseous as I turn to get a closer look at the mirror, clearing the fog with a hand towel.

That’s not me.  I look like me but the eyes aren’t right.  I feel light-headed from the hot shower and now the room is spinning.  I can barely stand to look at my own reflection.

“I’m crazy”  I whisper to myself and I see my reflection mimic my movements perfectly.  “I’m crazy, I’m crazy, I’m crazy.”  I whisper to myself as if it’s a mantra hold my hands to the side of my head but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m staring at an imposter.

I see my reflection blink.

I can feel my eyes widen and my jaw go slack but my reflection is no longer accurate.  A slight sneer inches its way across the face of my look alike as I back up into the wall.  I can’t look away.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

There’s a loud knocking at the door and suddenly I know.  It’s them.  I need to end this.  I pick up my gun with a shaky hand.  I feel the cold steel against my temple.

I pull the trigger.

Reviews

[Old Heathen]

Looks like the stress of studying for your final needed an out. And what an excellent out it was. Very creepy. I had no problem feeling the man's growing unease and need for release. Hope your final went well.