"Everybody’s
going to know what you did," the voice said.
"Shut
up," screamed Tina. She was filthy, barefoot, and had walked through the
woods for days. Her lacerations on the souls of her feet continued to open up
and bleed with each step. She was oblivious to the pain, completely incoherent,
and badly injured from the car accident. She'd been driving fast, that was
clear from the impact of the truck on the tree. Her memories were hazy at best.
She was unsure of her own name, her home, family, or any of her actions leading
up to her current state. All she had was the voice — her voice, or at least a
version of it. It kept taunting her, telling her she was going to be caught for
what she'd done. What had she done? She couldn't remember. What kind of trouble
was she in? She continued stumbling among the trees until she stepped into a
clearing. Cars rushed by on the highway, their headlights bright and blinding
in the nighttime darkness. She remained along the side of the road, walking
slowly.
"You
killed them," the voice said. "You're a killer."
"No,
I'm not. Shut up. You did it."
"You
are me," the voice said. "We did it. And I — we — will do it again."
"I'm
not a bad person," she muttered to herself. "I'm not a killer. Not
bad. I don't kill."
"You
do kill," the voice said. "You have killed." The voice paused
for a moment. "You love to kill."
"Shut
up!" she screamed. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
She
stumbled into the road. Horns blared as cars approached. She felt her legs
weaken and collapse beneath her.
***
"Wake
up, sleepy head."
Tina
opened her eyes. She stared up from the bed. Her
vision was blurry at first, but when it came into focus, she saw a pumpkin
sitting on a table across the room. It began as a single base but split off
towards the top, to where it had two stems and became two separate pumpkins in
a distorted heart-like shape. It had two faces carved into each side with a
mouth that joined at the base.
A
person leaned over her. She recognized the face. It was her. A reflection of
herself, but the face staring back was cold and dark. There was no soul in
those eyes.
“How
are you there?” she murmured, slowly coming back to consciousness. “You’re a
voice in my head.”
“Not
anymore,” she said. “You can’t stop me any more than you can stop yourself.
We’re the same, you and I. So stop kidding yourself and give in to those urges
you know you have deep down.”
Tina
saw a pen lying next to her hospital bed. She swung it violently towards her
alter ego’s neck. The blood sprayed out, covering both of their clothes in
scarlet — bright, shiny, and slick.
Nurses
and security guards ran into the room to find a doctor lying dead on the floor,
blood pouring from the wound in his throat. As they dragged Tina away, she kept
screaming.
"She can't make me kill! I stopped her! She can't make
me kill!"
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