Maniac Mind.

I had no idea what I was going to do. The only thing running through my mind was the image of Katya, pale and beaten. It was a deed that couldn’t go unpunished and I felt that I was the one who had to deal out the punishment. Love is the second strongest emotion in existence, only trumped by hate. Love can be blind, but hate is always deaf and dumb also. It knows no bounds. As I approached the door of Katya’s parents, my hatred owned me. As I knocked, my thoughts turned to all the children that Steven must have operated on. His hands, warm with help yet cold with cruelty. If what Katya told was true, many children owed health possibly even their lives to him. This was the man I was here to punish. This Jekyll and Hyde fuckup.

The door opened cautiously as a face wearily peered through the openings. It was late and dark and when his eyes saw mine, they grew. What I looked like, I don’t know, but it scared him. What I felt would have scared me too had I been in control of myself. As soon as Steven’s eyes met mine I kicked the door with all my strength. None of this was real – it was all a movie, or a dream – this wasn’t me. The door flew back into his face and he fell backward. I entered the house, standing in the doorway over him on the ground, fumbling backward. His face was already frightened and above him I felt so powerful. Stronger than I’d ever felt before. I had never been in a real fight before that night, but standing there feeling the rush I instantly knew why so many people enjoyed combat. Boxers, soldiers, thugs – all had only one goal: to win. That idea, then, seemed enviable. To have only one focus rather than be lost in a multitude of them like I always am. Like all those focused fighters, my purpose was set. I needed no more though, just instinct.

I allowed him to get to his feet. This had already turned into a kind of sick game for me, I think. Hurting him would be fun enough, sure, but prolonging the pain had a strange attraction to it. So he was up and for a moment filled with a sense of bravado.

“What are you doing here?” He bellowed more than asked. His speech was slurred. He was drunk.

My answer was plain. “You hit Katya.”

His eyes were on mine for a moment before the words sunk in. Looking downward with guilt briefly, he confirmed what I already knew and relieved me of any apprehension I may have had in my subconscious about inflicting justice on him. He tried to justify himself.

“Look, it was an accident. I lost my head…” I walked to him, he slowly moved away, keeping a little distance between us. “She knows I didn’t mean it. I’d never do anything to hurt her intentionally.” And my disgust at that last remark came out in the form of a scoffed laughter. Still moving toward him, he still moving away, the pointless back and forth continued.

“Mate, you don’t want to do anything stupid here.” He attempted to reason as we entered the kitchen.

“I’m not your fucking mate.” I replied, my words even sounding like those from a film. We continued moving and talking as if the whole scene had already been scripted in my mind. In the kitchen, we were, his right hand brushing on the counter as he walked backwards keeping close to it. I refused to move my eyes from his. In this confrontation, for some reason, I felt at home.

“I’m sorry.” He said. Whether or not he meant it, I didn’t know nor care at that moment. I’ve rarely ever accepted apologies. Once you’ve fucked up with me, you’ve fucked up for good. The only exceptions to this rule I can remember were Sara and Katya. Whether that was due to the depths of my feelings for them or just because I was getting physical love in return, I don’t know. The fact is, most guys will do anything for sex, even if they say they won’t and wish they wouldn’t, they do. A sad indictment on mankind, but completely true nonetheless.

Steven’s backwards walking took him around the kitchen counter and near to where the sink was. Soon he’d backed as far as he could go. He was motionless, sensing it. Trapped. Inside, my workers called for blood, for vengeance. The game had ended and it was time for me to exact his punishment.

I put one foot forward in a lunging action when I noticed his quick movement. His hand had flown sideways and from a stand he’d pulled a large knife. Glistening and clean, like the house, like Steven and his wife had tried to make their lives appear. Only a rare few ever get to see the dirty side of such a projected life. I stopped myself mid-lunge and forced myself away, creating a distance. With one swift movement everything had changed. Not only was I not in control of myself, but now I was not in control of the situation either.

Steven held the knife and stalked toward me. His eyes were maniacal and it suddenly dawned on me that the knife was in the hand of a drunken man I’d just threatened. The direness of the situation was completely clarified in my mind. In that moment I was certain I was going to die.

“I’ll go.” I said quickly and gestured to leave, but he wouldn’t have a bar of it. He’d been terrified by the very real threat I’d posed to him, he’d thought his life was over. With the knife in his hungry hand, perhaps he thought the only certain way to save himself was to end me. Or perhaps he just wanted me to pay for hurting his pride. Motivations don’t matter much when your life is in jeopardy.

I put my hands up guardedly. He jabbed the knife at me and I backed away. Before the close escape had registered, he took a swipe at me. My instincts controlled everything I did. They made me duck bravely under the blade and move behind Steven. They made me tear the knife from his hand, grabbing it by the blade yet somehow not cutting myself. And, as he turned around shocked, they made me force the knife into his stomach.

He winced, then looked down at his wound. Slowly I removed the blade from inside him. His white shirt was becoming red where I’d cut him. Then my eyes fixed on the knife. No longer glistening, no longer clean. Now dirty with his blood. There was no way to project a false image of this. I’d stabbed him. And in the midst of this revelation I was even more out of control than before. I was zombie-like as my eyes finally found his. He was watching me with a look of complete bewilderment and betrayal. As he fell against the wall behind him and slowly slid down he watched me with those eyes all the way.

“Owen…” He said softly, then they closed.

He was dead, I knew. I had killed him – and I didn’t even feel remorse. The thoughts that raced through my head were ones of repercussions. Murder equals Jail Time. My life is as good as over, I thought. Soon so many panicked thoughts rushed my mind that I was choking, unable to breathe. What about Katya? This was her father. As negatively as she felt about him, I was sure she didn’t want him dead. She’d stopped me from attacking him the two times I’d gone to. My panic was now amplified by guilt. Guilt that I may have hurt her again.

And she was my only out.

My mind told me then that she’d know what to do. Somehow she would make everything okay. Just as soon as I’d believed that my actions would hurt her even more came my belief that she’d help me. With a killer’s calm I found the hands-free phone. My brain was working ahead of time for me, screaming her number out. Hurriedly, I dialed. It was four rings before she answered, tiredly. I must have woken her.

“Hello?”

“Katya, it’s me.” I said. “I’m at your parents’ house.”

This must have brought her right into awoken reality.

“What? Why?” She sparked, over the phone I sensed that she sensed a problem.

“There’s been an accident…” my words were flowing without any problem and I had no idea why. “Do you have any money on you?”

“Yes…why?” She was no panicked too.

“Call a cab.” I ordered. “Call a cab and come here straight away. I need your help.” And then I hung up, trusting that she’d do as I said. Hoping to whatever that she could make all this okay. I went back to the kitchen, back to Steven. I knelt at his body and looked closely at the wound. I was a mess of emotions, one second strangely calm, then out of control the next. I sat back, staring at Steven. This is not happening, I told myself. This is not happening. This is all a dream. This is all in your mind.

And I fell unconscious again.