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The doctor’s office


I just stood there. My blade dripping with blood. The blood puddle that had formed glistened. My head pounding from the blood rushing through my veins. Looking at my creations I grinned like a mad men. I was so proud of myself. I had accomplished everything I dreamed of. Slowly the sun came creeping through the windows. When I started to walk away, I had a sudden realization. It suddenly hit me what I had done. I had done something terrible and it didn’t bother me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                       The only emotion that I could feel at that moment was pride. I made my lifelong dream come true. If at that moment someone had shot me, it didn’t matter. I made my life, the definition of living hell, a little better. I was ready to die right then and there. I was going to but then I saw my creation, my pride and joy and I couldn’t put myself to it. I was going to enjoy it. After all the work I had done. After all I had been through. I deserved it. So I did. I cleaned myself up. Took a shower, dressed up nicely and went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Then I went down again and put on some classical music, sat down in a chair and looked again. It was beautiful. I don’t regret it for a bit. But it didn’t last long. When I took a sip of my whiskey I heard the door open with a bang. Everything what happened after is a blur.                                                                                                                                                       I..I remember boots, black boots standing in front of me. Hands grabbing me, pulling me away from my happy place. Then everything went black. I woke up a couple of minutes later, sitting in a van. Big men around me, looking at me like I was disgusting. Like I was trash. That hurt. I started to freak, I was mad, angry at them, the world, the people, my mother, everything. And then everything went black again.                                                                                                           When I woke up later I was in a room. It was small and grey, it had a bed and a bucket to do my business. I saw a tray of food on the ground. I forced myself to eat it. I went to sleep and woke up. I repeated that for 3 weeks. Sleep, pee, eat and sleep again. It was soothing. I didn’t have to worry about a thing. I got cared for in some weird, not loving way. But is still better than I had ever gotten. Then I got pulled out of my room, I prefer to call it my room, and was put in a room. That is the story, now I’m here. And you know what, doctor, I still don’t regret it. I loved my art, my creation, my work. I am still proud of it. I love it, more than I ever have loved something.  If I have the chance to do it over again, I wouldn’t.

The doctor looked at the man in front of him. Sitting in his chair, handcuffed. He saw the slight smile on his lips, his eyes teary. He was truly proud of his story. He knew what he had done and he knew the consequences and he didn’t mind. In the back of his head the doctor admired that. It was a pride he had never felt about his work. And listening to the story of this man he had felt that emptiness. and that, that bothered him.  The doctor didn’t speak and nodded to the man at de door. He grabbed this madmen in front of him and put him back to his ‘room’.  The doctor took a minute to get his head around the story. That man wasn’t the one he thought. He’s to stabile he thought. He can’t be part of my plan. He sighed. He walked to the door to welcome his next patient. ‘Hello 3317-6987, tell me your story.’



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