- THE MAN WHO DIED TWICE -
For Justin it was just another slow, lingering tormented fuelled day.
Every day, every event a constant source of worry and apprehension.
It hadn’t always been like this.
Everything was different now, but the strangest thing was that he could just not recall the day…The day it all changed.
It was the shrill tone of the alarm - the one on his mobile - that had roused him with an almighty slam of ear splitting nauseation. Turning angrily towards the sound and instinctively hitting snooze to thirty minutes, he suddenly became aware of a huge dirty fly buzzing repugnantly around his head. Flies were dirty, Justin hated flies - filthy, putrid things that feast on vomit and defile the very air that you breathe.
Twenty minutes later the fly was dead and Justin was alone again within his demons.
When he finally awoke some time later his first thought was to go and check the windows and doors for any sign of a break in.
Satisfied, he headed for the bathroom.
He caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, looked at himself solemnly then tapped his left cheek four times precisely with the palm of his right hand, then moved onto the toothbrush. After four minutes of vigorous brushing until his gums bled dry, he returned the toothbrush to its pristine clear glass of exactly four millilitres of mouthwash solution. He sighed, today was a day he was not looking forward to.
It was Friday and the next few days away with Frances had been planned many weeks ago, but he’d experienced panic attacks and intense feelings of despair from the very moment she had suggested the idea.
How was he going to hide it?
He didn’t want anyone to find out about his secret habit…about his daily rituals. She was due to arrive at eleven…a little over 2 hour’s time.
There was much to be done first.
After dressing he pulled on his jacket and stepped out of the house. Upon locking the door, he stood motionless in the open air, then turned back several times to check if it was locked by way of four gentle shoves. Satisfied he headed for the local grocery store.
Mr Raani the store owner was his ever usual happy self and greeted Justin with a smile and the obligatory ‘Morning, nice day today isn’t it?’ that awaited every customer...every day. He raised a nervous smile as he passed Mr Raani. He was just another gluttonous conglomerate who was more concerned with acquiring his money than his friendship.
It was a little later when he arrived home...sweating repulsively.
He’d endured the Grocery store, the Post office queue and the terrifying walk home past all the strangers and disease ridden public, but for now it was all over. For now he was safely home within his own cosy, secretive protective shell.
At times he wondered if all the tension, all the turmoil that lived in his head would ever last, would one day end. Then sometimes he would want more…More talk, more suggestions, more chaos. In a twisted kind of way the voices in his head seemed to taunt him, but they also seemed to soothe him, to caress and nurture his psyche.
Frances arrived at eleven thirty five..
A little late, but being on time was never one of her most saintly traits. The Lake District beckoned – a two hour leisurely drive away.
Justin feared his own mind.
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That's all for now my thrill followers...the next gore-laden part will follow soon.
As always let me know your thoughts and comments if you so wish, and thanks again for reading.
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All characters contained in these tales are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.