19 June 2016

Stranger - Part 2

Part 1 - http://wispywisdom.blogspot.sg/2016/06/stranger-part-1.html

My head feels like I just got off a roller-coaster and got shot in the head at the same time. Where the heck am I? My arm - that's a needle in there. Faded white tiles cover the wall in front of me. I hear a constant beeping, harmonized with my heartbeat. The smell of ethanol and sweet smelling soaps hit my nostrils making me nauseous. I get up and pull the needle out of my arm and tear the plasters on my chest and arm. The machine which was beeping is now giving a constant high-pitched tone. I walk over to the bathroom. I feel dizzy, like I'm walking for the first time. My legs buckle. I grab the sink for support and stand up. I lift my face to the mirror. My face...

MY FACE! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY FACE! What did they do to me. My face has changed. My face. I don't look the same as before the crash. What happened? Did they give me plastic surgery? Did they change my face? NO! I no longer look like David Cross. Who?! Who did this? I'm screaming. I'm shouting. I punch the mirror in rage. The broken pieces of the mirror distorts the reflection; I'm even more unrecognizable. I hear the clattering footsteps rushing towards the room. Doctors and nurses hold me down. I'm screaming as loudly as I can while I'm flailing my arms and legs. One of them pulls out a syringe. I feel the needle in my forearm. Everything fades to black...

I wake up again. Feels like a dream. The same faded white tiles, the same smell of ethanol, the same beeping. A man is sitting beside the bed on my right. He smiles. He has a comb-over, glasses, shirt and tie and a white coat over it. "Mr. Cross? Hi, I'm Dr. Patel. You've been in a serious crash. Do you remember?". This is news to me. I'm Cross? What the fuck? But my face. My face was different from his when I looked in the mirror just then. I nod. "Your friend sadly did not survive the crash. I'm sorry." he says in an apologetic tone that seems like he's done this quite a number of times. I give a half-smile and frown. "Can I see his picture?" I ask. He nods and gestures asking me to wait and walks out the room. I try to move my arms but they're held down by leather straps. Same goes for my legs. I prop myself up as best I can. Dr. Patel walks back in.

He smiles; that stupid fucking smile. Starting to get on my nerves now. I'm perfectly fine. He's treating me like I've been traumatized or insane. Stop it! I don't need your sympathy. "After your episode, you understand we had to make sure you wouldn't go haywire again." he explains as he hands me the photograph. David Cross in the picture looks like how I used to look before I ended up in this hospital. But I no longer look like myself. This all doesn't make sense to me...

A few months later... 

So where are we now? Harborough Mental Health Facility, that's where we are. Been making some good progress. Doc says I'm doing very well. Been taking my medicines and I'm almost fully rehabilitated. Got used to my new face. I look pretty handsome if you ask me. Anyway, I went in to get my final assessment from Dr. Patel. He says I'm good to go. All I need to do now is wait for them to process my details and I'll be a new free man. They don't know I meant to kill Cross - or whatever his name was. Otherwise, this story would have gone in a whole other direction. Turns out I was David Cross all along. But I didn't own any of the cars and bungalow and shit. Just my name. David Cross, new reformed and rehabilitated man!

So a few days pass; they're still processing my stuff - finding me a place to live and a sponsor and what not. I was just minding my business, walking around the cafeteria. This guard, he's giving my the funny look from the other end of the cafeteria. I don't like it. I'm perfectly fine. Need to show him a thing or two. So I walk over to confront him and guess what? HE FUCKING LOOKS LIKE ME...

15 June 2016

Stranger - Part 1

The loud droning of the alarm wakes me up. I don't know if I can call myself a morning person, it's all just a matter of habit and routine. Walk into the bathroom and I see my face; probably need a shave. What's so special about me? What sets me apart from the folk you see walking down the street? How am I anymore unique than them? There isn't much to it really, I'm just your average guy; a face in the crowd. You'd have passed by me in the street and your brain wouldn't even have registered that you've seen me. I might end up as a person in your dream; I don't know. They say the faces you see in your dreams are ones that you've seen but don't consciously remember. So maybe somewhere in somebody's dream I am a face to be remembered, to be recalled. I practice smiling in the mirror. Different smiles, for different situations, different levels of amusement. They can't know what's really going on in my head. Look at that fucking face, disgusting. I want to cut it up with a fucking knife. Scar it all over, cut it up beyond recognition. Become somebody else altogether maybe. Start over. Hmm.

Work is shit. It drains the life out of me but if I wasn't working what the fuck else would I be doing? You fucking no good loser. You deserve nothing, absolutely nothing. I sometimes wish life was better but at the same time, I sometimes feel like this is all I'm entitled to. I see Donna smiling and flirting with some guy as I walk past the' admin' desk. That fuckin' whore screwing every guy in the office; she'll get it from me. She will. What do I do, you ask? Oh not much really, a low-level scum in the corporate world. A paper pusher literally, a mail boy... Yeah I deliver fucking mail within the office building. A mail boy! A nobody. But how funny things work out; change after all is the only constant in all of our lives.

I was just going about my job. Went into the new guy's office, some high position - prick didn't even acknowledge my presence in the room. Why would you, right? He had his chair turned away from the door and was busy talking on the phone. I walk over and place this tube thing that had his name and I looked up at the glass window and I see his reflection. Multiple waves of pins seemed to go from my head down. He looked exactly like ME! Every single detail on his face. Holy shit... I couldn't believe my eyes. I blinked rapidly to make sure what I was seeing was true. "You can go now. Thanks." he tells me in his disdainful tone without even looking back.

This guy, David Cross; I needed to know more about this man. What he does, where he lives, who he's with. I am obsessed. I've been following him for a month now. His life! My God his life is amazing. What I'd give to have a life like that. Senior partner at the firm, a company car, a bungalow in the suburbs and his wife or partner or whatever. Oh my God! What I'd give to have that. I've incorporated this into my routine, every Monday and Wednesday night; I get off about 5 blocks from the house, jog up to the bungalow. I always dress like I'm going for a run - less suspicious. I've watched them through the bushes and crouched under their windows. I've seen him cook, seen her clean, watched them make love in the bedroom...

I do believe it to be fate or Providence maybe. That my - what do they call it? Some German sounding word - doppelganger has to be revealed to me and he ends up having a better life than me; practically everything that I want. Humans are in a never ending chase, spending their entire life trying to become happy. But they don't see it as having enough rather they find the need to have more than the other guy. That's what determines success and happiness. "I've made it!" means I'm better off than the rest of the filthy scum. We end up comparing whatever we have to everyone else around us. I know I'm unhappy. I'm sure Cross is unhappy too despite having everything I would want. He sure seems unhappy; I see it in the way he kisses her, the way he looks at his car or his house, the way he interacts with his "friends". He's tired of life as well. Look at him, lying unconscious in the passenger seat, all tied up. WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE, DAVID! You're not coming back. I'm doing you a favour if you think about it. I'll gladly take your place! Get you away from this life that you so hate. You're crazy! Who me? I'm not crazy. I'm fine. Perfectly fine. New life. That job, the bungalow, this car all ours now! Going to fuck that broad first thing. HAHAHAHAHAHA...

I've been driving the Mercedes for a good 2 hours now along the highway. The drugs should last 4 hours. Enough time. We're far from the city now, I've turned into a side road away from the main highway. The roads are lined with thick dense woods on either side. Anywhere would be good. Just need a place to hide the car, in case someone comes along the road. Then it's bye-bye to you Mr. Cross. HAHA. Almost a peaceful way to go, if you ask me.
FUCK, He fucking woke up! What the fuck. I had 2 more hours. Motherfucker punched me in the eye. Can't fucking see where I'm going - am I bleeding?. Lost control of the car. I'm throwing my fist at him. I can feel my hand connect to his cheek. I'm frantically trying to steer with my other hand. Don't panic. We got this. Oh fuck...


Part 2 - http://wispywisdom.blogspot.sg/2016/06/stranger-part-2.html