Burn, Baby, Burn by Michael Seale (Chapter 33)

 Chapter 33

Forgotten Memories

I sobbed like a baby in the darkness of my mind. I am a prisoner here, trapped by another part of myself. A part of me, I thought, I had under control. But I have found out so many things about myself. I remember now, things that I never wanted to remember before and things about myself that I never knew. My life is upside down and over. I know that no matter what happened from this moment on, my life is over as I knew it. 

In my mind, I stand up, throwing my arms up in defiance. I would fight, fight to be free from this self-imposed bondage. It didn’t matter what happened afterwards, die or not, rot in prison or not. I want to be free. I want to stop him. Now I needed a plan. 

The child or should I say my younger self was there again. I didn’t know if they each had a separate name or if they all answered to Mike. How do you ask yourself, what you should call it, I couldn’t, I didn’t want to know how? Maybe knowing would make this all too real, I thought. I needed to stay as sane as I could. I suppose that is a funny statement. Here I am, a man trapped in his own mind, surrounded by several other personalities that apparently live and survive here also, all the while being controlled by my unending rage.

It is something that I had to wrap my head around. I had to come to terms with it otherwise, there was no way back. I would be stuck here. It made me wonder about all the people in the Nut house. Are they stuck as well? Can they perceive themselves even though others cannot? What if none of them are truly crazy? What if it traps them, the same way that I am, what if they are being controlled by the drooling idiot personality instead of rage and hate as I am? The questions raced through my mind. Although I knew it didn’t matter, but the thoughts were there nonetheless. 

“How do I get to the light?” I asked.

“You… you… can’t go there. He’ll hurt you.” The child me responded.

“How do you know? Did he hurt you?”

“He hurts everyone.” He lifted his shirt and showed me his pink scars. They looked like cigarette burns. I reached out to touch them. The boy pulled back. 

“You… you… you look like him.” He whispered.

The old man had been watching. He looked no better than he had before; he was dying. I wondered how a figment of my mind could die. 

“How could he have scars? Why are they so similar to mine?” I asked him.

“Whatever you experience gets saved somewhere here in your mind. We all have access to those memories, but it is our choice to create our own. He has used them. He uses the horrible memories that you have tried to forget, he uses them to hurt us, to hurt others, to hurt you.” 

“But how?” I shook my head, wanting to believe him, just not knowing how. 

“I am afraid, I do not know. But what I know is that he has done much more than scar this little boy. He has robbed him of his innocence. Just as they took yours from you.”

I closed my eyes. I could remember every hit, every insult, every burn. It stung. I held the boy in my arms and cried. I cried for him and I cried for myself. He sobbed in my arms. I know that I could never make it good for him again. But at that moment, I felt a bit of peace for myself.

“How do I get to the light?” I asked again.

The little boy whispered in my ear.

***

Kimber knocked on the door to Mike’s apartment. He hadn’t answered his phone, which wasn’t unusual for Mike. Seeing as he no longer used it, since his episodes had started. But now he wasn’t at home either. She hated to think that he had gone home with someone else the other night. She tried to hold back the tears that were forming in her green eyes with little success. The thought of him with another woman was just too much; they had said that they were moving forward. She slumped to the ground in front of his door, deciding that she would wait for him to slink home, and then she would confront him and be finished with the asshat. 

She waited almost an hour before he arrived. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Dark circles under his heavy-lidded eyes, which were so dark they looked almost black, she considered. Not his normal cobalt blue. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, that’s it. Hey. Fuck you, Mike.” She said.

Tears rolled down her reddened cheeks. She was furious. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to find you.”

“I was busy.” He said stepping into his apartment. “Look, I’m tired. I need to sleep. Can we do this later?”

“Later? Mike, what’s going on? I thought we were moving forward.”

“I said, later.” He almost yelled. Shaking his head, he knew he couldn’t do anything to her. She was clean. He couldn’t hurt her, not until she had defiled herself. Not until her sins controlled her. Then he could take action. 

She stared at him. He felt as if she could she see him, not Mike but him. As if she knew that he wasn’t who he pretended to be. As if she could see that he was only hate. He knew that wasn’t possible, but what if?  

“Who are you?” she asked. “I don’t know you anymore.”

Mike closed his eyes. He shook his head back and forth. As if he was fighting someone, his hands went to his face. His eyes turned a soft shade of blue, not quite their vibrant color they are normally. 

“Kimber, please.” He begged. Then he stopped. He was quiet again, holding his head. “Fuck you,” he whispered to himself. Kimber watched, her brow creased, not understanding what was going on. It seemed like Mike was fighting with himself. His eyes were back to black. He looked at Kimber with total disdain. “I said, later.” He slammed the door closed. 

Kimber stood at his door for a few moments; ignoring the singing birds and the cars passing on the street. She had seen something, but she was unsure what. She stalked back to her car, feeling as if he was watching her. That feeling that something is wrong smothered her. His shadow moved from the window as he watched her. 

***

I was there; I was in control. That had been so incredibly difficult, I hung on for only a second. How was it he was so strong? It felt as if a car had crushed me. Such an unbelievably powerful force that pushed me back. It felt as if the devil himself had grabbed me by the neck and dragged me back here. 

“You were in the light?” the boy asked, his eyes wide with fascination. 

I nodded. I’m not sure if we really spoke together or not or if the thoughts just flow between us. He is me and I am him, right? 

“Were you ever in the light?” I needed to know how this worked. 

“A few times,” he said, “but that was a long time ago.” 

The idea of being stuck in my mind, unable to know or do anything, was not something I hoped would stick. Then it hit me, in all of this, these “people” were versions of me. Me’s that feel and think, they are part of me and yet they are separate. I don’t share the memories they made when they were in control. They know that I exist and that I am the true Mike but nonetheless remain here.

“What did you do in the light?”

“I played. Sometimes when you were no longer living with the burning man,” I understood this to be my father. “Sometimes… I would come out and play with the toys in the basement.”

Toys in the basement, I wondered. He was talking about when I lived with my grandparents; I realized. They would ask who made the mess in the basement. He had gone down there to play and I had no idea. That was about the time; I had no friends and only wished to be a kid again, to start over with life. Did I create him? Did I create them all?

“Why did you stop going?” 

“He hit me, made me tell him,” he cried. Big fat kid tears with bubbles of snot. “He made me.”

“What did you tell him?” 

“How to get to the light.”