It all started on a windy morning in October. I looked out the window to see the trees move to and fro in the wind. I open the window to allow fresh air to enter. I walk out of the small apartment, locking the door as well. Then, I start walking to work.
Tired hands find the keys to open the door. The room is cold and dark, normal for any other day. Except, there is something not right. An eerie noise arises in the midst of the house. Assuming that it’s my mind playing tricks on me, I walk over to the window to close it. I slip into my pajamas and slip into bed turning off the lamp. Drifting slowly off to sleep I think about this morning, when all was right.
Knock! Knock! Opening my eyes in panic I look around and listen for the noise. Knock! Knock! The noise, it was coming from the living room. I get up and quickly grab the baseball bat that was in my closet. I rush into the living room to find it dead quiet. I search the room looking for any signs of an intruder. Nothing, absolutely nothing. I lock the front door and the windows. I stumble back to my bedroom; but before I enter, I see something out of the corner of my eye. Not big, but small. A mouse? I grab my bat incase it’s not what it seems.
I creep up slowly as to not scare it away. As I get closer I notice it is under the rug. I lift up the rug to find out it is under the carpeting, but how? The carpeting is glued to the floor as far as I am aware. I take the bat ready to swing when it moves. It comes right at me. I swing the bat missing by an inch. The bat collides with the floor. A loud crack noise fills the room. The bat breaks. The thing chases me to the front door which I unlock as fast as possible. I run down the hallway, not bothering to close the door behind me. I run down stairs not caring if the neighbors hear me. I get out of the apartment building looking up to my small apartment. The lights were on but there was nothing out of place as far as I could see. I don’t return until two days later.
I climb the stairs warily as I did these days. I unlock the door to the apartment. Slowly I open the door, checking the room before I enter. I feel something brush my foot. I close the door quickly and lock it. It has been two weeks since the incident and I’m still wary of the apartment. I take my shoes and jacket off. I sit on the couch and take a book out to read. Knock! Knock! My mind flutters back to reality. I look around the room in desperate panic. There it is on the other side of the room. I slowly set down my book and stand up trying not to make a noise. I take a step towards the front door. It doesn’t notice me thankfully. Creak! The noise fills the room, the creature notices me. It starts to move towards me. I try to run to the door but it moves in front of me blocking the path. I stumble backwards knocking into a table and lamp. I grab the lamp and swiftly throw it at the creature. The lamp hits the ground with a loud thud. The thing under the carpet was gone. I start to relax again and picked up the broken lamp from the ground.
Creak! I turn around in terror. There was two of them now, coming from either side of me. I run to the kitchen thinking that since there was no carpeting that they couldn’t get me. Wrong, I was so wrong I only made things worse for me. The carpeting started to rip up from the flooring. The two lumps almost seemed to come together to form one giant lump. I reach behind me and grab one of the knifes out of the knife block. The carpeting bursts, two gray and mangled hands come out and reach for me. I step backwards trying to get as far away as I can from them. When the hands can’t get me, the rest of the creature comes out from under the carpet. The mangled body comes towards me. I try threatening it with the knife but it continues to get closer. I try to swing at it but the knife simply goes through it as though it wasn’t there. At this, it smiles at me, its teeth crooked and sharp. It steps closer to me and I feel stab of pain and look down at the knife that was in my hand. Except it was in my stomach. I look at the creature. It looks at me with its smile and reaches over and closes my eyes. Darkness, all I feel is the cold and darkness. Then I feel the accepting warmth and light. A hand reaches out to greet me. I take her hand gratefully as she guides me through the light.
“Richard? Richard are you home? Richard it’s Dr. Lyan. I’ve come to check up on you.”
“...”
“Richard I know that you’re not at work, you haven’t gone the past three days.”
“...”
“Richard I’m going to call your daughter so, she can unlock the door.”
“...”
“Dr. Lyan! I came here as fast I could.”
“Oh thank goodness! Your father isn’t opening up.”
Click. “Dad, are you home? Dad it’s me, Mary, and Dr. Lyan. Where are you?”
“Richard, are you okay?”
“Dad! Dr. Lyan call an ambulance, he’s hurt!”
“911, what is your emergence?”
“Someone is hurt, he may be dead.”
“Sending an ambulance right away to your location.”
“Dad no, I’m sorry I was too late...”
In the next few weeks investigators that were looking into the case of this incident published an article, with family approval, about how schizophrenia can cause the loss of a loved one to become a painful experience.
Richard A. Matthews was an 82 year old man when he was found dead from a stab wound in his abdomen. It was ruled as suicide due to the position of the wound. No one in his family thought that Mr. Matthews would ever commit suicide. As the investigation continued, it was discovered that Mr. Matthews was suffering from schizophrenia. This had caused Mr. Matthews to see many things that were never really there. This had never been a real big deal in the Matthews family because, Mr. Matthews was well medicated and always stayed on his meds.
In the weeks and even months before Mr. Matthews death we discovered that his life had drastically changed. His wife Lura R. Ender Matthews had died three months prior to Mr. Matthews death from a six year battle with cancer. Mrs. Matthews died peacefully in her sleep next to the love of her life. Mr. Matthews woke up horrified to find his beloved wife motionless and cold. This is when Mr. Matthews life started to spiral downwards. After the funeral Mr. Matthews refused to go to work or take his pills. His only daughter, Mary P. Matthews Rode, had grown concerned for her father. She contacted Mr. Matthews’ doctor, Dr. Lyan, about this. Together Dr. Lyan and Mrs. Rode watched over Mr. Matthews. During the investigation we learned that two weeks before the fatal incident that Mr. Matthews had ran away from his house one night due to seeing something under the rug. He had insisted on staying at Mrs. Rode’s house for two days. Mrs. Rode had gone by her father’s apartment to find the door wide open and a broken bat lying on the floor. Nothing else seemed to be out of place.
Mr. Matthews returned to his home two days later, just as he insisted on. During the visits with Mr. Matthews, Dr. Lyan and Mrs. Rode both noticed that Mr. Matthews was more and more wary of his small apartment. Both of them insured Mr. Matthews that everything was safe and fine as long as he continued to take his pills. Two days before the tragic incident, Mrs. Rode became busy with financial problems and Dr. Lyan had other clients to take care of, so neither of them were able to meet with Mr. Matthews. Dr. Lyan was only available one day of the week. So, she checked Mr. Matthews’ workplace and found out he hadn’t gone the past three days. So, she went to Mr. Matthews’ apartment to check on him. Dr. Lyan was instead greeted with nothing coming from inside the apartment. Dr. Lyan grew worried and called Mrs. Rode so she could open the door for Dr. Lyan. Instead of finding an alive Mr. Matthews they found him dead in the kitchen.
Through the autopsy we found out that there were no signs of any drugs in his system. We can conclude that Mr. Matthews had not taken his medicine for at least a day or two. The family and Dr. Lyan believe that due to Mr. Matthews schizophrenia, he was driven to the brink of insanity and ended his own life without realizing it. Dr. Lyan and the Matthews family wants this story to be known to show how important it is when dealing with a mental illness to take the right medicine or have the right outlet to express your feelings.
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