The devil hurts your mind, not your body.
The rain outside was deafening, the rustling leaves and rough branches scratching against my window only made it worse. I had the tv on in the living room, sky news I think, something like that. There was a pizza in the oven, it had been in there for ten minutes, would soon be ready to take out. I stood when I heard a knock at the door, and decided to grab the pizza on the way back from whoever it was.
Knock knock.
“Coming.”
Knock. Knock.
“Yes I said I’m on my way.” A scowl had made its way onto my face.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
It was forceful. Brutal. A demon’s roar, a terrible pounding.
KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK
It kept going and fear gripped me, I reached quickly for one of the knives by the kitchen counter, a great big chef’s knife, though it did little to calm me. My shaky hand reached for the door handle, and gently pulled it open.
Early morning sunlight drifted in through the window, and the chirping of the morning birds followed suite. No one was at the door. I stepped outside, looked around, before realising I was standing in the street in my dressing gown holding a giant chef’s knife. I quickly dashed back inside and closed the door. The rain continued to patter against the windows and the roof. I checked the oven, my pizza was nowhere to be seen.
Somehow it was the pizza, not the magic knocking and sudden change of weather, that alerted me to my episode. I quickly searched the kitchen for my medication, nowhere to be found. Perhaps I had left them on the side in the living room where I had dozed off? I moved into the room with the tv.
“And on tonight’s news you fucking suck.”
“What?” I turned to face the tiny box, to find the news anchor looking right at me, staring right into my eyes.
“You’re worthless, a lob, disgusting, useless, a waste of breath why do you carry on why don’t you just go live in a box you drain on society I swear yo-“
I attempted to turn the tv off but the voice and its face kept on talking. The knocking came back, in addition to the howling wind and scratching on the glass, the pitter patter upon the roof sounded more like a stampede of rats coming to bite my feet and gnaw at my bones.
I crawled into the corner and clawed at my head, rocking back and forth to try and survive the onslaught that my mind was forcing me to undertake. I looked around, looking for an escape, a way out.
Up the stairs, my bedroom.
“Don’t you walk away from me you human garbage get the fuck back in here face me-“
As the floorboard creaked beneath my feet the knocking got louder, it pierced my ears, which distracted me from the faces that morphed from the walls.
“Go on fall down it’s only a short fall it’ll all be over then no more of this no more of that everyone else can be happy with the fact that you’re gone g on go on GO ON GO ON-“
It continued even as I slammed the door to my bedroom, spotted the pills by my bedside lamp and swallowed them in an instant, before lying on my back and staring straight at the ceiling. Hours passed, as the knocking of the door slowly subsided, the voices lasted much longer. By the evening, I regained the strength to make it back down the stairs.
A pitter patter of rain hopped across my roof, and a branch gently brushed my windows. The tv anchor wished me a goodnight, and my feet carried me to my study, where my fingers found a pen, and my pen found a page.
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