Flash Fiction: THEY

I had goosebumps. Of course, I always had goosebumps in this small, annoyingly tidy room. Who keeps a room this clean anyway? I couldn’t spot one single ounce of dust anywhere; it is an unearthly domain if you ask me. Not to mention how boldly black and white it is, literally. The walls and floors are white, and all the furniture is black. Oh, I guess there is a hideous, fake, green plant in the corner right next to the leather lazy boy chair, in which that man my mom calls my therapist sits. I refer to him as a monster though. It awes me this thing actually speaks English. What is he saying anyway, I think he just asked me a question. “Uhm . . .” I wait for him to repeat himself like he always does. “Arthur, I asked you exactly what they told you to do,

and why did you do it?”

Why did he say it so slow, it’s not like I’m stupid, I just wasn’t paying attention to him before. After explaining what had happened to my mom, my dad, my perfect twin brother, my dog, and the cops already, I was getting tired of repeating myself. I’m just an innocent civilian; can’t a guy get a break? After noticing that the clock hands had strangely barely moved since I arrived ages ago, I rambled through the story for the millionth time. I don’t understand what is so interesting about it.

They told me to strangle the girl. Of course, there wasn’t anything in the room to do it with. Then one of them had pointed out the old, rotting vacuum in the corner. I had glanced at the girl but she was unconscious still, she wasn’t going anywhere. Come here vacuum. I’m not going to push down your red button. I’m going to unplug and unwind your snaky, long, fraying cord. I’m not going to push you back and forth. I’m going to use you.

Then they had told me to hurry in case she woke up. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry! Shut up, I am hurrying. Strangle her, hurry! Okay, okay. I had grabbed a clump of her hair to lift her head and started wrapping the cord around her frail neck with trembling hands. I shouldn’t do this, this is wrong. No! Strangle her! Do it now! They told me over and over. I had sat back, pushed my head between my knees, clutching onto my hair. They were so loud, the sound of a thousand hurricanes. Why are they yelling at me? I had rocked back and forth, warm tears stinging my cheeks. Their voices sent me into a panic, tormenting myself, entombed in my own head. I thought the people outside could have heard the voices.

The girl started to move, her eyes shot open realizing there was a cord entangled around her neck. She had tried to scream, her voice struggled, begging me to let her go. I rocked. My gut lurched and hair stood up on my arms, like the goosebumps I have now at my doctors’ office.

See doc, I don’t know why it happened. I stand up as that irritating sound coming from him vibrates through my soul. Why does my mom insist that I come to this insane man? Who is he to tell me that I am actually the insane one? He does not know what the voices are like, always echoing in my head. He tells me to sit down because my mandatory counseling session is not over yet.

Don’t listen to him, they said. Just leave, you don’t need him. We’ll deal with his sad life soon. A wicked smirk spreads on my face and I walk out of the room, leaving that pathetic man sitting on his leather seat with his mouth wide open. I might get in trouble with mom for leaving. At least I don’t have goosebumps anymore.

Writing By JR Lindsey