The Devil in Me

I literally shudder when I think about it. Remember it. Feel it.  The other night I felt the devil pass through me and I believe he implanted a chip in me.  His dark shadowy presence falling into mine felt like when a very cold wind grabs you and pushes right through you. I’m thinking like in the streets of Chicago or New York in the dead of winter.  There’s no denying that feeling. There’s no protection from that kind of force.

It wasn’t so matter of fact the other night. I was terrified. I was pacing. I was breathless. I was disoriented. I was stammering that a chip had been placed inside me during this encounter. I was now a pawn in the devil’s game of hide and seek.  My husband had to physically shake me along with calling my name several times to bring me back to reality. His reality. He explained the devil did no such thing. This is a hallucination.  THIS is not real. He must have felt the need to say it again. I heard him. I truly did. But, I did not believe him. He did not feel the sheer presence of another object pass through flesh and bone the way I did.

My husband guided my breathing. He slowed me down. He slowed his words down so I would understand. He held me tight. He let me cry. He encouraged me to let it all out. I sobbed uncontrollably pressed up against him as tight as possible. I carried on about why evil is now apart of me.  I continued with I must have done something wrong in this lifetime. If only I knew the wrong, I would make it right.  He stroked my hair and said I’ve done nothing wrong. I am a good person.  This is just a bad dream, a very bad dream.  I love you. Our love can battle anything. Once I was done with the waterworks, he helped me get into bed and he went around to his side.  He laid on his back (not how he sleeps) so I could rest on his chest. He counseled me some more with calm, loving, reassuring words.  Tears began to flow again in pained wretches.  What was I going to do, I asked? He had no answers. He was silently scared. Scared of my behavior. Scared of the belief system that was building up.  He just held my hand that much tighter.

As we tried to drift asleep, I could swear I saw the chip glowing in my right index finger. I moved it around and it held its “light.” I froze.  What does this mean? He can watch my every move. He will be tracing me. He will be planning his attack and my demise. This is going to be it I thought. I stared at it for I don’t know how long before I fell asleep. In the morning, I was cautious. I moved gingerly when the alarm went off. I wasn’t sure if the chip was still there.  I wasn’t sure how my husband was feeling about the night’s events.  I honestly don’t remember if we talked about it. I don’t think so as he had to get ready for work.  I think he told me to try and reality check myself as much as possible.

I had the whole day to myself. I tried to watch television and drink coffee but I couldn’t handle sitting still. I had to be moving. I was agitated. I cleaned the house furiously. In the process of cleaning the bathroom I was down on my hands and knees mopping the floor when the door slammed closed.  Chants of You must die came from every corner. As I gave one more wipe, blood smeared on the floor. Blood was coming from my wrists. I began to cry. Once I got up the nerve to try, I pried the door open fairly easily.

My instinct was to get the fuck out of the house as this was a precursor to the devil’s arrival. I scurried around the house to change clothes and put on shoes. The need to vacate the premises was very high. I was scared he was already on his way. The fear in me was so strong, even if I had a gun it wouldn’t satisfy me. Out of the house, in public was the best place.

I practically ran down my street. I had no real plan other than escape. I ended up on a walking trail near the river that leads to a park. It was familiar. Plus, I thought there might be people around. Problem is I underestimated my paranoia.  There is a dirt trail that parts from the blacktop trail which I like to take. It eventually meets back up with the blacktop.  About ½ mile ahead to that meeting point a woman was just standing at the gate. I began to think she was waiting for me. I thought about turning around, however a man was just entering this trail from where I did. They both could be coming for me. It would be 2:1. I just stood in the middle of the trail for several minutes weighing my options. I thought I might have a better chance fighting the woman if need be. I kept my eye glued to her every minute as I edged closer and closer.  Just as I was about to reach the gate, she simply disappeared. Did I make this scenario up? Was she ever there?  All that mattered was getting to the park, so I marched on.

Approaching the park, I saw a man with a hooded sweatshirt, long beard and sunglasses sitting on a bench that faced the river.  You might miss him if you weren’t as hyper alert as I was. Immediately I guessed he was placed there by the devil. I walked slower and watched him out of the corner of my eye. No movement from the man.  That could be either good or bad. My gut had me move on.

I spotted a playground and decided I was going to swing. I imagined myself feeling free flying in the air. I used to love to swing as a kid. Seemed like the perfect antidote. The ratio of adults to kids was strong, which meant there was safety in numbers.  I sat in the black rubber saddle and started pumping my feet. The sun warming my face and the wind created by my own body was awakening.  I leaned back and felt that little rumble in my stomach.  I closed my eyes without thinking. I was finally comfortable. I was determined to swing the agitation away. The ritual of pumping my legs took my mind off the devil and his confidantes. I wondered if he was watching. Wishing he too could let go for just a minute. Freedom comes in all types: short, sweet, incremental or sustained. I was hoping for sustained, but accepted sweet increments.

As the paranoia and agitation eased, so did my desire to swing ever higher. I slowed down. I relaxed. I allowed the moment to be just as it was, an escape.  I ran from the devil, but in reality I really needed to escape my mind. My feet dragged the sand as I stopped my momentum. I sat feeling the rubber holding my body upright. I noticed my shoes stained with dirt. I gathered myself to head back down the trail home.  If I encountered anyone along the way, I planned to smile. After all, it was a beautiful day.


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