House of Lincoln

15

I've come to the conclusion that I was already considering. Enough is enough, and I'm leaving this place. I start packing a few pairs of shirts and jeans into a backpack. Moreover, a toothbrush, soap, deodorant, and other basic products. While packing some comic books from off my shelf, I stopped. The reason was that I noticed a photograph of Clyde holding up our science project from middle school, smiling, and his eyes were looking straight at me. My lost friend, back to stare at me with a bright toothy smile, which now felt more disapproving ironically. A picture is worth a thousand cruel words, and each word targeted me. Me, me, me, me, me, me, me. I turn Clyde around so he can smile at the wall, and then I continue packing.

What have I done? Is this my fault? Is it really all my fault that the world is becoming a violent fantasy? Does the world hate me? Am I the world's scapegoat? Am I the Guinea pig that is jabbed with needles and tested and experimented with to the point of delirium? I am scared, and when I'm not scared, I'm sad. I need out, and I'm ready now. I tell my parents goodbye, and they laugh like I made a joke, then go back to talking to each other. Do they even know me anymore? I walk up the door, ready to exit this nightmare HELL when I'm stopped. Someone put their hand on my shoulder. Not with much force, but the hand delivered this external feeling of interaction. Somebody just touched me. Nobody's talked to me for days. Nobody has acknowledged me for so long. I wasn't sure if people could even see me. I felt like a ghost. Somebody was putting their hand on my shoulder? Somebody was touching me? I couldn't place a thought; I was stunned. Somebody was there. Somebody was really there and they saw me.

"Where are you going, brother?" What a depressing voice... that brought me so much joy. It was confirmed after I spun around. It was the magnificent Lucy, who right now, is the first sister to have made my existence known to me. "So I am real," I thought. "Hey Lucy... I was going to go. I was planning on going somewhere else. I don't know where, but if you're planning on stopping me..." I trailed off to see if she would interrupt with concern. Instead, she finished my sentence for me. "Then I'm too late. I got it. I'm not going to stop you Lincoln, but I do feel like I should say bye." My emotional response was a crude mixture of relief and anger. Since my worries were calmed by a new conscious presence that stood before me, a new brain, all my relief allowed a new stream of suppressed frustration. From where, towards what, I don't know. But it built up and broke me down in tears. "Where have you been, Lucy? Everybody has been ignoring me! Are you mocking me? Are you in on it too? Nobody—NOBODY has been there for me. My friends, my own family—everyone is gone, Lucy. They won't talk to me. They won't reassure me that I'm not already dead. Where have you been? Where..."

I couldn't say another word. I could only cry out frustrated tears. Lucy stepped forward, and for the first time in months, she hugged me. I cried harder. Everything that bothered me faded away, and all the cacophonous noise of stress and worries and doubts and struggles finally quieted down. It was quiet and I heard nothing. All I could hear were my sobs. What am I feeling? I can't think... I just feel...

Happy?

I don't remember what happiness feels like. I don't remember what being loved feels like. Maybe this is it. I feel like crying even harder, but my eyes are tired and my body isn't scared anymore. The world slowly comes back, and I move away from Lucy to see her face again. "Thank you, Lucy..."

"I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too." Then she added, "Well I guess maybe I'll see you somewhere. How far are you going?" It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about. I was so swept up in the moment. "Oh, right. Uh, well..." Now I'm doubting my decision to leave. After all this suffering, I want to stay. I know I shouldn't. Was this a trick expertly performed by the house to keep me involved? Another way to snare me and shuffle me through millions of new torturous methods of controlling me? Or, was this moment organic? I hope it was real. Should I take the chance? What am I saying? Nothing makes me feel worse than just being here. Why would I consider it for a moment? I need to leave, but I can't look at Lucy and think about abandoning her. She may not have been there for me for months, but she was definitely there when it mattered the most. It was perfect (the perfect plan or the perfect trap?) Whatever it was... I don't care. I mean I do care. I don't know.

"Do you want me to leave?"
"It's not my decision. It's up to you. I don't know why you want to leave and I'm not asking you to tell me. I just wanted to say goodbye. I don't control you. Don't let anybody control you."

Don't let anybody control me? What about this house? Is the house a "body" that controls me? If I choose to stay, is that my control or the house's control over me? Lucy is still looking at me and she's not giving attention to anything else. I feel considered. I feel a layer of respect that I'd otherwise lack if I were with anybody else. "Lucy, I'm thinking maybe I'll visit Clyde. I have something to tell him." Lucy nods once, asking no questions, and then smiles as I walk down the front steps. "Bye, Lincoln. Oh, and I have something for you." I turn back to see her rustle a hand in her pocket, only to pull out a small black rock. "It's black tourmaline. It's a gemstone people use for meditation and protects you from 'negative energy'—whatever that is. My friend gave it to me but I'm not really into that stuff. Maybe it'll help you out, though." She flicked it from her thumb like a coin and I caught it in the air. "Take this in memory of me," she said in the solemn nature of a priest. She grinned, waved, and shut the door.

I have a sort of motivation now. I can look past how bad I feel on the inside (and outside) and focus on the goal I set in place. I want to talk to Clyde.