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What I Can See ... June 11, 2004
tonight i think i killed something in my head.
i went over to shawn's and ditched jay even though i made him promise not to stand me up tonight. that was a bad move because i ended up listening to him sweet talk some girl via cell phone for at least two hours. after waiting and waiting for something interesting to do, i got bored and talked to some of his friends online. shawn stopped talking long enough to ask me if i wanted to spend the night, i guess to listen to him talk to and im this girl. so i just told him to take me home. i left the car without looking at him, threw my shit in the apartment, and left before the roommates could get a good look at my fury over shawn's wasting my night when i could have had a free meal going on that date with jay. i went for another late night walk. i call it lurking. although this time i didn't take the time to get dressed, my usual lurking attire consists of things that are black. i normally go out walking and sit somewhere dark in a semi-bad neighborhood. if no one comes, i sit and think, but if anyone appears, i concentrate on how much fun it would be to step out of the darkness and throttle them. i let the urge wash over me, a wave of blood to the head, my fingers burn with anticipation. i want to see their eyes fade as i kill them. bright marbles to scuffed stones.
tonight i didn't see anyone, nothing but a lone dog rummaging through the garbage. he was as big as a wolf, maybe he was one. my first thought was to get away from him...what if he attacked me in the night? me with no identification and no one knowing where i'd gone? a mental image of him stalking me through the dark streets, jumping out of the shadows to tear out my throat, ripping my flesh from the bones, no one awake to hear my cries. they find me in the morning, or what's left of me at least. my face half eaten, so mutilated that they never connect my dissapearance up with my dead body. so fucked up that they bury me under the name "Jane Doe", courtesy of the state.
i remembered that animals can smell fear. the thought that i heard him stop sniffing and i walked on, my hand over my keys to stop them from jingling. behind me i could hear garbage thrashing as if the animal had suddenly abandoned his trash rooting to investigate the noises and smells i was probably generating. i began to move away as silently as i could, but the sound of padded feet hitting the pavement made me turn and look. nothing. no sound. no dog. although i was sure he was there, i almost felt a connection to him as i moved away. an animal like me out bathing in the voluptuous freedom that can only be afforded by the cover of darkness, looking to meet his primal needs, feeling nothing but the insane urge to kill and eat.
i walked towards home, padded feet following me and keeping time with my own footsteps. i turned. nothing was there. of course, i knew it would be so. i've had hallucinations like this since I was a small child. it was only in my head, i told myself, and yet, i saw it nonetheless. matted hairs bristling in the lamplight, eyes squeezed tight with an undeniably grinding desire to kill, perfect pointed white teeth, tounge covered with roughness, ready to taste my flesh, ready to rip every last morsel from my bones until all that was left of me was a shriveled skeleton on the sidewalk for some kid to find tomorrow morning as he walks to his bus stop.
no, i saw it even if you wouldn't have. i saw it and i knew what i had to do. my muscles tightened. the beast stood before me, glistening as if it was made of glass. i screamed, but not the scream of a rabbit that has been ripped open, his guts shiny and red in the sun, to be gobbled up by the fox. no, i roared, i exploded. the animal flung itself at me, ravenous. giant paws scraped at my skin, teeth snapped, hair, clumps of flesh flew. one moment i was looking into it's eyes and the next, my knee was searing, slamming against the ribcage of the creature. it flew back, laid still, but then rose again. i don't know what happened then, but somehow, i was back home, standing with the front door open behind me, blinking in the bright light of the livingroom table lamps. i see blood on my hands. i asked my roommate...carefully because i wasn't sure if he could see it too...if he saw anything wrong with my hands. "no, nothing, why?" he said. i didn't answer, instead, i fled to the bathroom to see if i could wash it off. i don't think it's really there.
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