Panic Room

Part five; the seventh

This chapter is for anyone who fights voices in their mind.

Thursday; 1998; The panic room; Luna; 01:38

Luna opened her eyes and stared at the floor not knowing who or where she was, whether she was alive or dead, or had even been born at all. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. She closed her eyes again and breathed out. Someone walked into the room, she didn't care who. Luna's mind wasn't working straight anymore. She knew that. She didn't care. Luna knew she was crazy. Was her name even Luna? It may have been Amy for all she knew. All the things she had seen in the past few days, everything she had experienced, had brought her precariously close to the edge of her sanity, the tip of her waterfall, and the last trip into the Panic Room had been the tipping point, the branch in her stream, that after resiliently clinging to the rocks, has given up and gone down the plummet, where the chances of surviving were slim, and the option of return, none. 

She was gone. 

The fire in her had died, and now there was only a blank, empty shell of her former self. 

The light was on, but nobody home, some might say. The shutters drawn but the door open. But her light was off. Her door had slammed at the sight of her mangled body and now, there was no chance of opening it again. The curtain drawn. The song sung. Her sanity, gone. The person came closer, but Luna didn't stir. She kept her eyes closed and waited for whoever it was to do their thing and be done with it. When the footsteps stopped, she opened her eyes and looked around. There was Michael, standing over her, a playful smile on his face. This was not how Oliver had acted after...It made Luna sick to think about...he had been...reincarnated. 'Yes'. A voice in her head said. 'Reincarnated was a good word for it'. Isn't it strange?' The voice teased. 'That you can have a conversation with, what shall we say, a closed door? An empty house? A broken shell? You can have a conversation with something broken, husked, empty. Your mind Luna. My mind. Our mind. Our very being. Destroyed. Gone.' 

As Luna was having this inner dialogue, Michael had walked a full circle around her, and was staring down at her twitching form inquisitively. 'I won't listen to you.' Luna thought, and heard a soft chuckle. 'Yes you will Luna, because I am you. You are me. Together, we make up your...your thought. Your conscious mind. That's me. I'm your mind. So are you, for that matter. I'm your mind, you're your mind. Your body, it's just a machine, designed to do mine, I mean our, biding. Understand?' Luna screamed, out loud or in her head she couldn't tell, and gave a lurch. 'Don't fight it, Luna! You can't fight it! You can't fight yourself. You can't fight me! I am your thought! I am your being! You are nothing! NOTHING!' Luna shrieked, this time entirely out loud and Michael flung himself out of reach of her flailing limbs. She contracted and screamed, 'YOU'RE NOT ME! YOU'RE NOT REAL! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE! ALONE! ALONE! ALLOONNEEE!" Suddenly, she shook herself and sat up, writhing and gasping, repeating four words over in her head; 

Leave me alone. 

Please. 

She sat up, tears stinging her eyes, and saw Michael, backed against the white wall behind him, looking at her in horror. She stood, noticing that after her last bout of torture, everything was deathly still and silent. It was cold here. And suddenly, she realised that Michael was gone. She spun and saw him behind her, hand poised, eyes stark white. "Hello Luna!" He cried in the same voice as the one in her head. "Did you really think I was your mind? You don't have one anymore. That ship's sailed. As you thought, the lights are on but nobodies home. You want your light's off? YOU WANT IT?"

"WHY ME?" Luna screamed "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?" Michael opened his mouth, but before he could answer, the ground gave way and Luna was falling down and down, into the nightmare once more.