The History of the Phantom

The Two Personalities

As most of you readers know, the 'phantom' was known as the evil inside me. The darkness that I brought to humanity is what gave me the name. Before I knew it, I learned magic tricks where I could move items with my mind just like a ghost. However, it barely made a difference considering how invisible I was to the world. There has been plenty of people, more than anyone who could count, who firmly believed this hideous side of me that my anger took complete control of as the person who I am. The 'phantom' is definitely a part of me but only a part. You see if I didn't have my disfigured face, people would treat like a regular person who is crankier than usual. Unfortunately, my deformity screams the word 'demon' at them so they naturally assume I'm unstable when I'm having an off day.

There is another side of me that is very uncommon to the public eye. That side is called 'Erik'. 'Erik' is the sensibility, the passion, and the caring. I wish this was the only part of me. When I feel rage inside me stirring up my emotions like witchcraft, I am fearful of the 'phantom' myself. During those moments, everything good about 'Erik' vanishes into this pure bitter hatred. It's almost like a drug, except someone else is giving it to me when I least expect it. Just like an addict, they feel great when they're high. When I'm the 'phantom' the only thing I feel is anger and it makes me powerful. I'm no longer the depressed little boy that sulks late at night because of his face. When it wears off and I'm back to 'Erik', I remember the madness I had previously. Then it makes me sick to my stomach that I was ever that way. When you are stuck in the pit that is drug obsession, you are ashamed of yourself for ever doing that to you.

What truly formed this disgusting, horrifying part of me? It was the carnival. No matter how innocent you are when you are trapped inside a torturous environment, you are guaranteed to fall in the same path of those around you. In case if you haven't picked it up yet, the tall man is what birthed the 'phantom' inside me. Everything he was is now a part of me that people scream and run away from.

After I walked away from the crime scene, which was the two people burying the man I killed, I went straight to Gustave's house. I was back to 'Erik' by the time I arrived. Gustave was pretty stunned to see me by the door step when he opened it. Tears were coming out of my eyes from fear again.

"Hey, buddy. Are you alright?" He asked.

"N... N... No..." I stuttered. Telling your only friend that you just committed homicide is a lot harder than you think.

"You wanna come inside?" He asked me reassuringly.

"Yeah. Sure."

I went inside and sat on the couch in the living room. Gustave was in the kitchen pouring us two cups of tea. By the time he came out, he had little Christine in his arms along with the hot beverages. As he took his seat next to me, I couldn't help but look at the preciousness in his daughter. Whether she smiled or not, her adorable face brightened up your world no matter how dark it was.

"Ever since you left, Christine hasn't been smiling as much. I think she is really fond of you. Would you like to hold her?" Gustave asked me.

I stared at the innocence of the little girl. Christine was sucking on her thumb as she stretched her tiny limbs. Then I looked at my hands which were now shaking. I remembered how these specific hands held a sword which killed a man. The memory sprung tears in my eyes. I didn't want Christine to be held in my murderous arms.

"So how are you? I thought you wanted to go back," he said perplexed.

With the cold bitter guilt lurking in me, I needed something to make me feel warmer whether it was physically or mentally. With that being said, I held the tea as I let the heat from the sides of the cup seep into my skin. It comforted me more than you would expect. I stared at the dark liquid shake from my trembling hands as I tried to think of what to say to him.

"I-I did. I got in another fight with him." My voice was barely a whisper. At this point, I was no longer scared of the tall man; I was scared of myself. I was trying to wrap my head around what happened in the last few hours. Me getting tossed into the cage, being paralyzed for god knows how long, thinking I was about to die, killing the tall guy, and burying his body. It was all too much.

"What?! Where is he?! What did he do to you?!" Gustave whisper shouted.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"He's dead."

"He damn will be when I get back there. Fuck the restraining order."

He stood up but I grabbed his arm. I finally put down my cup and looked at him directly in the eyes.

"I killed him." My voice quivered.

Gustave sat back down on the couch. I expected him to shun me out in an instant, but instead he looked happy. Really happy.

"Why the hell are you in a good mood?" I asked.

"I'm glad that fucker is dead and done with. He found pleasure in beating up innocent children for money."

"That was me an hour and a half ago. Now I'm petrified. I know this is going to come back to me. I know I'm going to get punished for this."

"Hey, he was evil. I'm sure you will be fine."

I told him about how the bearded lady, the no armed guy, and I buried his body.

"But then," I continued," something came over me. I wasn't myself. I was the guy. I turned into this mad man. I completely betrayed the two after how they treated me. They could've taken my crime to the police. Instead they help me out. Yet I said awful things I can't take back."

The rest of the evening was me basically crying onto his shoulder. I went to bed in their house, feeling a little better than I did before.