Walted

This short story, "Walted", was written by me on December 19, 2016. I was inspired to write this on my way driving home from work day and I immediately pulled over to scribble down some ideas.

~Walted~

By: Paige Taylor

I firmly believe that after some time, when certain events begin to grow the most unbearable, one begins to discover a permanent absence of fear. I had never really given the matter much thought until now. Until I was about six years old, I had always believed that hearing things was normal. It wasn't until much later in life that I discovered I was hearing and seeing things that other people could not. This had never really bothered me and I had saw no reason to “seek help” or to try and change who I was; I was more than comfortable in my own skin. What did bother me however, or perhaps even more than bothered me, was just the mere thought of being alone.

 

Even on occasions when I was left with no other choice than to be left alone, even for just a short amount of time, such as my parents leaving for work in the morning, I vaguely remember collecting post-it notes and placing them all over the house. Nothing else was apparently written on them apart from the word: Walted. I did not know what it meant, so I guess that it is safe to assume that they had no idea what it had meant either. But despite all of my flaws, they failed to realize that I was a very wise child. Instead, they assumed that I was only in one of those “frames of mind” or so they say. I suppose they thought that if they ignored it enough, it would eventually pass.

Every day I seemed to be left alone with nothing besides my racing and troublesome thoughts. My manic mind, an antagonizing master, frantically began searching for answers, but to my dismay, were only answered with more questions. I soon began to dread each and every night, for my dreams soon became my story, and my story had become real.

 

“Until death do us part,”’ they whispered. “Never before have I been so desperate for death to come.”

 

For nights upon nights, I would not only lock the doors to my bedroom, but I would also board myself up to make certain that no one else could or would enter. Though I had an intense fear of being alone, I was also inconveniently terrified of intruders. It was not in the least bit unusual for me to block myself out from my friends, my family, and at times, even my lover. For I knew that they could not keep me safe here forever.

I was predestined for perpetual doom. I was most certain that they were aware of this too; for they pretended to be completely oblivious to the voices in which filled these walls. Whenever I spoke of the demons, they consistently continued to shake their heads, without even inquiring on what it was they were saying. Or perhaps maybe they heard them too? In which case, they would know just how much these demons were attempting to manipulate me. Perhaps they knew just how far they were willing to go to punish me? And yet, I refrain from referring to them as “monsters”.

Of course, monsters are not real; however, my demons are not monsters; therefore, they must too be real.

Even when I made clear to them that I was in pain; these demons cursed me and every time they reassured me that I was sane. Day and night, but mostly night, I could hear their voices echoing from wall to wall. As their shrilling voices grew louder and louder, I could feel the walls slowly begin to close in around me! For whatever reason, I only decided to scream when all four walls were so close that it would be impossible for me to move. I withheld another scream for many more minutes until I felt that my lungs were sure to collapse. I could not breathe, nor could I hear. It had suddenly become clear to me that even the demons themselves had decided to abandon me in my darkest of hours.

Hear me! Hear me!

I wished for nothing more than to be heard. I wished for nothing more than this. I opened my mouth and I screamed- I screamed so loud that surely someone must hear it. The Heavens? Or perhaps maybe even hell? Regardless of the listener, I would not be silenced. I screamed in the hopes that it would all just go away and to my surprise, I was finally awoken.

I sat straight up in bed and realized that there were beads of sweat now rolling down my skin. Even my hands and my feet were both extremely clammy. Nevertheless, it had all finally passed and the nightmare had finally ceased. All four walls of my room were equal length apart and I was just happy to be able to move again. When my family returned, it grew more and more obvious that they were becoming increasingly more distant towards me. I would be lying if I said that they weren’t acting even the slightest bit cautious around me.

Was it a possibility that they had finally become aware of my night terrors during their absence? Even if they had, what would it matter? Perhaps the voices, the demons, and the night terrors were just some minor flaws of mine. I had always tell everyone that I wasn’t perfect, but did they listen? And if by chance you happen to have the same perspective and outlook on life as I do, than you must have considered this: “We as beings were all flawed on purpose; therefore, we are all perfect.”

I admit that I am not the most religious of sorts; but if it were true that both my soul and my body were created by that of a higher being, the only logical explanation would be that this “higher authority” had purposely instilled my mind with flaws. But no God makes mistakes. Our flaws were made perfectly and if it is in fact true that we are all made up of flaws, we are all nothing more, nothing less than perfect.

My series of nightmares followed by night terrors continued for many more years. The walls continued to close in around me, but it soon came to a point in where I was no longer afraid. I remembered what I could not forget; the very first night when I had screamed, everything disappeared. Surely this was it; surely this was the way in which I could make it all just go away. And so, without hesitation, I decided to wait until all four walls began to close in around me. I waited until the walls were so close that I was no longer able to move. I withheld this scream for many lifetimes until I felt that my lungs would eventually collapse. I could not breathe nor could I hear. There was no doubt in my mind that my demons were definitely attempting to make a mockery of my horrors now.

Kill me! Kill me!

I wished for nothing more than to be rid of this life forever. You must believe when I say that I wished for nothing more than this. I opened my mouth and I screamed- I screamed loud enough that surely someone must hear it, I thought. When I finally opened my eyes, it was to my astonishment that I was surrounded by women in navy blue outfits and one man, who happened to be dressed in a long, white coat. The tag on his shirt read “Dr. Walted”. He held up a needle and I vaguely remember fighting tooth and nail, wailing my arms as two of the navy blue women came and held me down. I felt a cold stick in my arm and in only a matter of seconds, my vision began to grow blurry. I could only scarcely make out the words on the sign next to the door: Ward B.