Names always seem to matter, especially right now. My name is Jo Lucille Harvelle. I
began completely sane. Mostly. I had all of the normal things in life, aside from my best friend,
and I’m still here. Here meaning Ohio. Also meaning a mental institution in Columbus sitting in
front of my psychiatrist.
She’s egging me on to share my eldritch story. The one that deemed me sinister and crazy
enough to be put in one of the most secure asylums. So, here I am, ready to explain what really
happened.
I was home, as usual, completing my final touches on an article review for work. A
nagging in the back of my head told me it was definitely time to sleep, considering the time, and
turn off the laptop. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to finish my work. When my eyelids began to
droop, I deemed it a good place to stop. I powered off the device, closed the lid, and readied
myself to sleep.
My bed was warm and comforting, enveloping me in warmth. But the silence was slowly
getting to me. The quiet is violent, and to me there was no way around it. Not music, not a phone
conversation, not even talking to myself would get the silence to go away. Soon, the paranoia
lulled me to sleep.
Once again, I dreamt about an old childhood friend. His name was Brendon. Key wordwas.
He’d done something he said he’d never do, and that was ending his own life. He was back
with me in this horrible dreamland my mind always sent me to. It was sudden, just one day my
brain decided I’d dream of him. He was talking to me, saying demanding I do something that I
would never otherwise convince myself to do. He said the only way to get him to actually stop
cajoling me was to finish the deed.
What’s the deed, you ask?
Murder the person who caused his untimely demise.
“Brendon, you’re out of your mind!” I would always shout at my old companion.
He would only shrug it off, and I would wake. For weeks this went on. Every damn night
this… ghost, phantom, wraith­ whatever you want to call it­ would come to greet me as usual. He
was wearing my friend’s face to try and convince me.
I was getting paranoid. Yet, I lied to everyone I came in contact to, saying I was fine. The
paranoia, the dreams, the constant feeling of knowing Brendon would never go away until I did
the deed had me secretly planning this person’s death. Well, it was soon elucidated that I would
be planning, and following through, with two people’s demises. I knew both of the victims.
The planning took time, a lot of time. I worked around the clock. During work, after
work, while I rested, and even while I dreamt. Psychologists have proven that you don’t
remember most dreams, but this wasn’t a usual dream. I remembered everything. From the facial
expressions I made talking about my plan, and his haunting smile while I spoke.
“Remember you can’t get caught,” He would always say.
I would nod and soon snap out of my dream. But, when the time soon came to go through
with my plans, I was afraid. Fear was overcoming my entire body. My bones shook? my entire
being was trying to pull me out of it.
The worst part?
My paranoia was becoming overwhelming and my sanity was slowly slipping through
my fingers. All of my fears were becoming reality. But I had what I needed right here. My victim
was in my sight. Standing in the open bar with talking to a nice looking guy. Oh, how I didn’t
want to do this. I knew, in the back of my mind, that I would have to. If I wanted the cheshire
smile of Brendon to leave me in my dreams, I would have to follow through with this. All of it.
As much as I wanted to tell him to run, all I did was put a smile on my face as I
approached him. I completely made him blow off the other man he’d been talking to. I smiled
with a small smirk on my face, concealing the fear.
We flirted back and forth before I did the first thing I planned. Get him in a secluded
area. Somehow, we made it to the rooftop of the dilapidated bar. It was all kind of a blur. The
fear disappeared, and now all I was feeling was excitement and adrenaline pumping through my
veins.
I was taking control of the situation. I pushed him toward the edge, holding the collar of
his neatly pressed shirt.
A gasp erupted from his mouth, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I like it.”
I scoffed, “That’s what you told Brendon, but you went on to the next boy as if it were a
game. Where is he now?” I remembered my voice coming off as more of a growl than a normal
anger laced voice. When Josh, the man I’d been hunting, didn’t answer, I did it for him, “He’s
dead! He’s literally dead! Okay? You pushed him to the edge, and that’s what I’m doing to you!”
Before he could talk again, I let go of his shirt. He was confused for what seemed like
seconds before I shoved him as hard as I could. A loud screech cut through the cold air before a
loud thump came from below. The building wasn’t tall enough to finish with immediate death,
and I knew that. I knew it well. Brendon wanted him to suffer. So that’s what Josh was doing. A
pool of his own blood was slowly reaching out to the street as he struggled to breathe.
I looked over the ledge, searching to see that now people were crowding around the
struggling man. People were calling ambulances, some were screaming, and some were looking
up. One person had seen me. I was leaning toward the edge, ready to end the second victim once
and for all. This second victim, if nobody could tell, was most definitely me.
Brendon knew I’d be caught, or seen, so this was the second victim. It was my job to
finish the final step of the plan. I turned around, the ledge of the roof beneath my heels. I let my
arms go limp at my sides, ready to finally finish off my own life. My weight slowly pulled me
backwards. My eyes looked up to the dark sky, stars twinkling as they usually did. The universe,
I decided, could live without me. I was just another person in the 7 billion person population…
Nobody would miss me.
Before I could completely let gravity take control of my body, large hands were wrapped
around my wrist. A new pull was bringing me away from the edge. My eyes met with another set
of green orbs as I was soon facing the city.
I was now being read my Miranda Rights as I felt cold metal slap around my wrists.
Handcuffs held me in place as an officer escorted me out of the bar and out to his police cruiser.
Everything, at this point, was numb. The cold metal holding my arms behind me was not
even felt. The tears weren’t streaming down my face as I assumed. I was just numb. All of my
senses were gone.
“So, this was all because of a few bad dreams?” My whole spiel was interrupted by the
woman I had to talk to.
I nodded my head, “Sometimes, the numbness still lingers.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, “What could that mean?”
I could feel the person come back from when I committed first degree murder. It was a
different person, “I mean that I could care less on whether or not you made it back home
tonight.”
“Wha­”
Words were cut short as I lunged at her. A short shriek came from her mouth as I pushed
her from her chair. My hands wrapped around her throat, stopping her from making the horrible
bird­like noise. I watched as the light faded from her eyes. Her struggling beneath me helped the
satisfaction.
Still, as I slept through the night, I dreamt of a sinister Brendon, laughing in my face. He
promised he’d leave, but he never really did. Or, should I say, the thing that always wore his
face, never left me.
When I said “two victims” earlier, I really meant three. There’s still one left to
finish off.