catch22 (catch22) wrote,

Reverse Psychology

My father had this silver handled hunting knife from Mexico. Well my plan was to take it and shove it into myself. The spot for impact would be base of the neck. Right where the notch is above the sternum. I couldn't leave a mess for anyone to clean up, so I 'd have to do it in the bathtub, that way they could just turn on the water and wash away the blood. Ah yes, the blood, I can almost feeling it gushing out of that mortal wound, the warmth of my body leaving me, heartbeat after heartbeat. I wonder if blood leaves a crimson stain on tile, I hope so, because then my existence would still remain, and no matter what they would have to look at it and know it was their fault.

The good doctor interrupted me at this point of my story to ask who they are. This is a nice shock, I mean I thought he earned the degree instead of buying it. So I told him that he was one of them. He asked me if they are males. What kind of question is that? Yeesh, I'm too wise to get involved in that mind-game. I told him very calmly they are the ones who won't understand and my parents aren't them because I helped them see. He then asked me how I made them see.

So I got up and went over to the nice leather chair he was sitting at and took his hand. (This always scares them. It's such a great joy to watchtry it sometime.) I took his hand and looked at it. It was a big hand, but there were no marks of wearThe nails were clean though, I remembered that. How could anyone treat the mentally damned if they themselves weren't damned at one point? Those are the stains that never go away.

I took his hand in mine, he could have easily broken every bone in my hand just by squeezing it, and I'm sure he knew it. I guided his hand to his right ear. I told him that he needed to pretend he was a woman for a moment for this to work, to which he agreed. I told him to listen to the words of societydo you hear them Docdo you hear the faint echoes of SlutwhorebitchDo you hear them Doc? Listen harder and you can hear more. This is the voice of humanity with all the bullshit removed. Do you hear the wordsSexMotherRapeDeath? What other words do you hear Doc?

Then I guided his hand to his eyes, and told him to picture with his mind's eye a man. I asked him to look in this man's eyes and start dissecting the man layer by layer. I told him to peal away the quality traits one by one, and to call them out has he recognized them. He started with "kindness, gentleness, and honesty," I told him to go deeper. So he called out "intelligence, humor, religion," I told him to keep going. This bullshit continued until he finally said, "Fire, rage, and fear." That's it keep those and go deeper. He then started sweating and fidgeting, "wow" I thought, he's actually doing it there, may be hope for him.

Then I took his hand and touched it to his mouth. I told him to remember the taste of love (he was married). He smiled at this, what a dope. Then I told him to take this taste of love and dig in it a bit. Do you recognize unfamiliar tastedistant traces perhaps? That's the taste of other men, some wanted, some not, as they ram their tongue down your throat, and as you try to twist your head away, the taste is still there, it's still there no matter how many times it's scoured by gum, mouthwash, toothpaste and what not.

Then I took his hand and put it over his nose and told him to smell what man smelt like. Not the perfume that is used to mask this smell, but the true smell, the acrid, sweaty smell, the eternal stench that is carried from birth to death. He got pale at this comment, so I moved on. I'm not that heartless.

I took his hand and moved it to his cheek and told him to feel the hardest blow he could imagine a man giving. He flinched. Then I moved his hand to his chest and took his other hand and placed it over his mouth. I told him to picture the exact amount of pressure a guy needs to place there to keep you on your back. Now picture the amount of force he needs to use; kissing your mouth, getting his saliva all over your mouth which is clinched tight in fear of the attributes you saw in this guy's eyes.

Then I whispered in his ear"You hear the voice begging you to make him stopbegging you to kill him" He pushed me off balance. I caught the terror in his eyes as I fell to the ground. He was no longer one of "them." I had to finish it, he wanted to know why I was so screwed up. I had to prove my point.

"Doctor," I said, "keep that feeling. Hold ithold itnow pretend it has been 6 months. "Then I grabbed the pair of scissors and put them in his left hand. Then I took that right hand and touched that squishy spot right above the sternum and told him to think about taking those scissors and driving them right into that spot. I told him to hold that feelingkeep it, keep it. It's been 4 years and this feeling has been following you. You can't get away from it no matter how fast you run. It's been 1,425 days what is there left to do? The guy is long gone; he'll never get what's coming to him. Everyone else has blindly moved on, yet you are still there. Who are you going to tell? Who would believe you now? Like they would have believed you before

The clock stopped ticking. "Well Doc, I do believe our time is up. See you next week same time same place. Have a nice day." He was no longer one of them.
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