I have no particular thoughts when I saw that strange man. It was dark; I was tired; what was I supposed to feel? I felt nothing! At least when I first locked eyes with him.
When our eyes met, the first thing he did is to grab my hands as tightly as he could. I could see tears running out of his eyes as his lips trembled uncontrollably. Underneath the orange hue of that one singular streetlight, I could see the outline of his face that showed his sharp jawline and soft features. His ragged hair looked like it was pulled and scratched thoroughly because it was in such a mess! I remembered how lonely I felt when I looked at his perfectly black eyes with the same color as his hair. I felt like there’s nothing inside of those eyes of his: no life, no soul. I also noticed the rather large mole around the bottom left side of his lips, which is pretty much his only defining feature. He looks so familiar yet so foreign at the same time—it made me feel like he’s manufactured to look perfect. Like those young models and idols that I frequently see on Twitter and Instagram. Like an amalgamation of everything Hollywood had touched. He was everything that was and everything that ever will be.
I moved my body away from him, but since he’s grabbing my arms ever so tightly, I found it impossible to escape the shackles of his touch. I asked him what he wants from me. He then swiftly took something in the pocket beneath his jacket—oh yeah, I guess I do remember that he’s wearing an expensive-looking tuxedo—and what he revealed on his other hands is a small revolver. I panicked! I panicked so fucking hard that I started feeling like my consciousness is leaving my body. I screamed with all my might. Everything around me became blurry like it’s slowly turning into a newly-painted picture that has been splashed with a bucket of water. Everything looked so muddy. I could almost swear that I felt like I have stepped inside a new dimension where stars walk with men, and the universe is one with the earth.
He then placed the revolver in my hand. Then he pointed the gun at his forehead. After that, the crying man said, “SHOOT!” He screamed as loud as he could. I didn’t know what was going on, so I asked him, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” and I remembered him saying something like, “No! What the fuck is wrong with YOU! Just kill me!” Our back and forth went on like that until the man finally got fed up. He pushed one of my fingers forcefully into the trigger and shouted at me again, “SHOOT!” along with so many curse words that my bullies had used to degrade me when I was in high school.
I don’t know what happened.
All I know is that I pulled the trigger.
Then I ran.
I remembered that the man’s body was on the floor, lifeless. There’s a bullet in his head. He’s dead.
I told this to Dr. Carrion. She just looked at me with a poker face and a nod. After a while, she apologized again for making me attend this Plural Heights megachurch event. I told her it’s okay and that she was well-intentioned. I didn’t hold it against her. She continued to apologize profusely, nonetheless.
After a while, Dr. Carrion then gently asked me to wait for a while as she started browsing her phone. After a few moments, she then showed me the picture of a man.
No, not just any man.
It was that same man I saw in that dark street outside of the stadium! The exact same man! Black hair, black eyes, pale skin, and a large mole near his lower lip—all of this lined up well to the man I ‘shot’ that night!
Dr. Carrion explained that I might have hallucinated the entire thing and just recounted an episode of a popular series on Netflix. I told her about my confusion. After all, I never used Netflix before. She then explained that I must have seen the said popular series on an ad somewhere since that Netflix show, and that particular scene was heavily advertised on YouTube. I then asked her if it would be fine for us to watch that scene. She was reluctant; no, she didn’t want to show it to me—Dr. Carrion was adamant in saying how much she hated that idea after what I had gone through. I then insisted on her with all that I can for almost half an hour. With a sigh, she agreed. However, she said, if I started feeling unwell, we would stop immediately.
We then watched the scene. True enough, the man I had ‘killed’ last night was in it. Ghastly pale skin, looming black eyes, sharp jawline, soft features, and expensive tuxedo. It was definitely the same man.
In the video that Dr. Carrion showed me, someone is pointing a revolver at the forehead of that same person I saw last night. Coincidentally, that man was also shot dead on that scene. The only difference is that the person who did the deed didn’t run.
Dr. Carrion then suggested that I must have suffered some kind of hallucination and asked me to rest.
I was feeling confused! What I saw is real. I know it’s real! I did it! My evidence to prove the legitimacy of this whole darn thing is the shirt I used last night! It was still stained with blood when I looked at it this morning! However, when I returned after my outpatient session with Dr. Carrion, I saw that my uncle had already done the laundry. When I asked him if he saw anything weird on my clothes, he said that it smelled like body odor before laughing out loud. I then laughed awkwardly at him to prevent him from seeing my panicked state.
But I could swear that the blood is real.
There’s even blood on my face at that time. I checked my pillow if there’s blood on it, but I saw that my uncle had also changed my pillowcase and bedsheet. I didn’t ask my uncle if there’s something weird on my pillows. After all, if there really is blood on them, shouldn’t he have noticed it and talked about it with me? He's acting like his usual cheerful self. That means there’s nothing wrong, right? I kept asking that question in my head throughout the day. There has got to be something wrong.
I remembered that I was so distraught today after meeting with Dr. Carrion, but I just decided to ignore it and sleep just like what the doctor prescribed me to do.
Note: I asked Dr. Carrion who that actor was, and she very happily replied with a name.
Comments (22)See all