I can smell it in the air. I can feel it in my bones. I can hear it on the wind. I know I will do it. As my body creeps down the alley my mind is aware. But my mind does not understand. My soul is unaware. Yet my soul comprehends the situation. Completely. My soul is trying to flee. It wishes it could. But it never can. Not for all eternity. I will be immersed in this quandary forever. Unless... Unless I do what IT wishes. The whole reason for what I have become. IT. "Obey child..." The voice is not spoken. It is in a very real sense not there. But then, is anything we see really there? This is what it feels like to be mad. I know. I must do as IT says, or I will lose the bit of myself that I managed scavenge, beaten, bruised, crumbling piece as it is. I will survive this. Therefore I must do it. IT tells me. IT tells me to kill him. IT tells me to kill Enijah. My friend. I will do it. My soul is seared by that thought. But it is true. I will.
I will do whatever it says. My body knows where to go. It does not follow me anymore. It follows Enijah. Enijah is ahead. He is dressed in a dark trenchcoat. He wears a black headband. He carries a cane. His cuff sleeves are done up crooked. Strange what one notices at times like these. My body makes no noise. It slips down the alley with determination. Suddenly a dagger appears in its hand. The dagger is as black as night. It is poisoned.
My mind knows we must kill Enijah. But my soul says otherwise. My soul does not think we should Damn ourself further than we already are. My mind says, at least we will have a little freedom. My soul does not want to kill Enijah. My soul is Damned. I will not fall for it's schemes. But perhaps it is right? Maybe I don't want to kill Enijah. I have to. This is what it is like to be mad.
My body is ready to kill. The dagger is raised. Enijah has stopped to peer down a side street. Time for him to die. The dagger descends. Then it stops. My soul has a drop of fortitude remaining. It will not let the hand descend. I must kill him says my body. Never, says my soul. "Kill him..." The voice that is not a voice resonates in my being. I must. I can't.
It will consume me. I will be bound to him for all eternity. I have been chosen to be the assassin. It is my duty, my destiny. No! Slowly the dagger descends towards his heart. No! I must. No! The dagger falls. My soul screams. I am myself. The blood from Enijah's body splatters me. I stare at my hands. They are covered in blood. Somehow it seems fitting. I see Enijah's face contorted in agony
.
I feel remorse? No it is not that. It is not feeling at all. It is cold. IT's hold is gone. I am free. Or am I?
I am myself. But part of me is gone. What part? I do not know. Maybe my humanity. Maybe my soul. Maybe my heart. I am whole. I am broken. I seem intact. But my life, emotions, mind, and body rip me to pieces. Can I be whole again? No. Oh, God what have I become.
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