The Headshrinker's Dilemma

Chapter Twelve

He was literally choking himself. He fought hard to stop but couldn’t. He strained and pulled at his hands – the sensation of trying to move your own body against itself was alarming; it was wrong, horribly – it felt like he was the inverse of himself, literally inside of his skin pulling at his own arms while they attacked him, trying to kill himself but he really wasn’t. Delusion? Was it really happening? He wasn’t sure. Dale wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He remembered the short reprieve a few minutes ago – of letting go – he desperately wanted to do that now – to be done with this torture, to be done with it all.

The agonizing ache of choking was almost unbearable… And somehow the Jamaican girl was causing him to do it to himself, once again he mimicked what her body was doing. But just when he didn’t think he could take anymore, she released him. He gasped at air, trying hard to catch his breath, his body a shaking lump of flesh on the floor. In the midst of his head pounding (lack of oxygen to the brain) he recalled her saying how she was in him – his thoughts and feelings – so she knew it all and was in control of it all, she knew when to let go, to allow him to breathe again.

“That’s right…”

Dale tried to stop his mind but there was no way to do that kind of impossible. If you have the power to control me then why do you need me to kill for you?

“Because I have my limitations,” she answered his thoughts. “I cannot kill – at all – it is forbidden.”

A glimmer of understanding began to form: Dale sought to connect all the dots. It is forbidden, she had said – she wasn’t in charge – there was something or someone greater than her; Dale thought more – and she said that she couldn’t kill which is why she needed someone else but even using someone else her actions couldn’t be direct… Things were beginning to make sense: Headshrinking caused death by the anatomy of the human body. Everything was about syllogism, one thing led to the other, cause and effect. He was just the mode, a vehicle for her to accomplish these tasks, the deaths of three specific people for whatever reason, but without her actually doing the deed.

“You’re beginning to understand all of this… Good,” she answered, knowing his thoughts. “So you know, this is not about me controlling you, more like you being a mirror for me that I am standing behind and looking out of.”

It was an interesting way to put it. If Dale quieted himself and remained still, he could hear her, even feel her, inside of him. Knowing that she was a visitor inside of him, one with certain irrevocable privileges, was an invasion, an intrusion not only into who he was but also the meaning and purpose that he was supposed to derive from life. Dale had to admit to himself that for the most part – more than that even – that he had been a loner, that he preferred solitude (thus, the Jamaican girl’s intrusion was even more problematic on a whole interpersonal level) and some of that stemmed from his lackluster view of the world and all of its incongruence. Nothing about this planet or the life that each person was forced to live in order for you to be alive made sense to him. How are you really alive if you don’t get to choose the life you’re coming into? With that kind of thinking and in that frame of mind, Dale had decided that life was pointless. But now, with her inside of him – he began to see at least one thing differently: that for him, pointlessness had become a point of existence. For him, his identity and the way he lived life was wrapped in the idea that he was separate from everyone else and that just him absconding the need to create a purpose or find meaning to life or anything for that matter, gave him exactly what he believed didn’t exist – but now that was gone, the Jamaican girl had taken that away from him.

Dale looked up from staring blankly in some direction, lost in his own mind. The Jamaican girl was looking at him, her eyes glassed over this time. She had heard everything he had just thought. But that was okay. That’s what he had decided, that very much like before, when he was in the grocery store and faced with the decision to give up, to just run and escape from his problems, he had wanted to but didn’t. Now was no different. He accepted the situation he was in then and he had to accept the same now.

“Interesting…” she teased.

But Dale was done playing. He peered up at her from the floor, both knees still folded. He could feel the heat in his body, rising, the resolve stirring, the fire that sat behind his eyes that he pointedly and purposely aimed in the Jamaican girl’s direction. She caught the look and it delighted him all the more. He knew what decision he had made and now she did too. The Jamaican girl nodded in agreement, allowing a smile to form at the corners of her mouth.

“Rise,” she said.

And Dale did just that. Somewhere inside of himself was the voice that wanted him to question matters again, to worry or cry about what had happened to him, but each time that voice tried to speak or tried to come forward, he drove it back down into some darkness that resided inside of himself. Silently, to himself, he named it the void. He never wanted to hear that voice again – this was a chance for him to become something and someone all together new. He had been avoiding his own evolution, afraid of what it might mean societally, he would no longer have any excuse to lament and sulk in how troubling the world was – secretly he knew that he indulged in that just because he could and it was the easiest way out, the laziest. If the Jamaican girl hadn’t done anything else for him, she had at least shown him the error in his thinking and subsequently, the error of his ways.

Dale stood firm before her. Tall. Erect. Like a soldier ready to be given his marching orders. His mind flashed back to just a few minutes ago, then a day ago, how different he had been; it was hard to recognize that Dale already. He wondered for a second if this new wave of thinking was really his – or was it the ritual and the white concoction that he drank. Dale decided that it didn’t matter. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it – fear, doubt, guilt, inhibition was gone. He had been delivered from them all and he refused to go backwards, not now, not with the freedom that he was experiencing and the feeling that went along with that freedom and no longer having any inhibitions.

“Are you ready?” asked the Jamaican girl.

But even she looked different to him. Could a change in perception really do all of this? For some reason, the Jamaican girl seemed more attractive. He could feel his p***s start to stiffen by just looking at her. A few minutes ago, that had not been the case. Perception truly did rule reality.

“Yes,” he answered, nodding.

And without any other prompting, Dale stepped forward, starting pass the Jamaican girl. He could feel her inside of him, but it wasn’t as strong as before – was it because he had stopped fighting her and just accepted it? He wasn’t sure but her presence was still very strong, but it felt more outside of him now, as he passed, her eyes were on him, a strong gaze, and if he didn’t know better, there was some odd allure in them and then he could feel the attraction, it rolled off of her and as it did so, he knew that it was equally rolling off of him. She continued to watch him as he went completely by her. Dale entered the corridor that led to Felicia’s bedroom and he didn’t stop.

“Dale…” she called out to him.

But he still didn’t stop. He felt strong. Sure. Confident. For a second, he thought about what he was about to do and for that second, his nerve fluctuated. But then he could feel her. She was back inside of him – pushing him. This time however, she didn’t feel like an intruder and her presence wasn’t some foreigner invading. Rather, he liked that she was there – he wanted to be close to her, close as possible, and inside of him couldn’t be any closer.

‘Dale, wait…” she called for him again.

Something different had happened. He could now feel her and not just in him, it was as if he was inside of her. She looked at him strangely. For a few moments, they both were caught in each other’s eyes. Dale wanted to pull away, to continue about his business, he felt strong, virile and ready to do what he was meant to do – kill Felicia. It was his duty to carry out the Jamaican girl’s desires and morbid enough, he was ready and more than willing to do it, and this brief pause, this expenditure of energy that was being wasted on whatever symbiotic bond they were forming was only holding up matters. The Jamaican girl moved towards him but Dale couldn’t stand still. There was a job to do and he was determined to go do it.

Dale turned from her. He paused. It was hard. Like pulling a tooth. The Jamaican girl had become so much a part of him that turning away from her was physically straining for him. He sensed her close, still moving to him, shocked that he had turned from her. But still, no protest. Dale suddenly got the feeling that something had changed; their dynamic had shifted. And then he noticed that he had been having thoughts, all of these thoughts, but there had been no response, no quick quip from her at all like before. But there was no time to dwell on those things, trivial matters compared to the what he had to do and somehow was ready to do…

Without another word or even a glance back at the Jamaican girl, Dale entered Felicia’s room.