Fading Memories

A chilling realization washed over me: the scars were old, the message carved in a desperate bid for truth. I had been here before, trapped in this endless loop of confusion and deceit. It does not matter for how long. All that matters is that with each day, I gain more memories. Presumably, I had asked for a pen and paper in the past, and they either denied my access for cruelty or witnessed me trying to recall my memories. All I had left was my skin. I know asking for a pen now would trigger a treat from me to them. They know my path. They know my responses. I must recognize what they think I will do and differ my response to that of the unknowing lump of flesh they wish to remain captured.

Now, to pour my tainted tea away, I walked to the window and noticed Aliza talking with the neighbour as I placed my hand on the handle to open the window. Aliza quickly looked in my direction; she saw me. The pair waved cinematically in unison as if rehearsed. I put the mug to my mouth and pretended to take a gulp. The warm tea did touch my lip, but when I turned from the window, I quickly wiped it. My nerves were getting the better of me as I spilt some tea down my white shirt. I will pour the tea down the toilet; there is no chance of leaving a trace there.

The bathroom was only a short trip across the hall. I opened the door and crept out. As I got halfway to the bathroom door, Paul bellowed through my soul, “Oh, did you forget something?” I hesitated before saying, “Do we have any biscuits for my tea?” “Sure! Let me get some.” He waited for me to follow him down the stairs. He did not trust me to be alone. After getting my biscuits, Paul ‘escorted’ me back to my room. I placed my biscuits and tea on the side and closed the door while Paul’s contemptuous face forced a smirk.

I cannot go anywhere. I feel the walls closing in. My heart is racing. It visibly beats through my shirt. I begin to take short breaths, in and out, in and out. Then, I noticed a plant pot in the corner of the room and poured my tea there. This ordeal is hurting me internally. I can feel its strain spreading through my being.

As I lay, I understood what I needed to do.

Over the next two weeks, my mind became clearer as I portrayed the exact inept figure they were used to. I need clarity to find solutions. The solutions are there.

Today is the day. I will escape at any cost. Aliza has forced this upon me. Paul sat on the sofa in a contemplative position. He slowly looked at me. He was more relaxed than usual. We spoke about going outside today. I, indeed, had built some level of their trust. However, I must still tread carefully; let me test those levels. “Are you ready to go?” I asked. Paul responded, “Where?” “To meet Aliza, of course,” I announced. “Yes, that’s right, Aliza. You will remind me of the way. I, I, I…” Paul stuttered to the point of deep inner awkwardness, so I interrupted, “Do not worry, I know exactly where we are going. You drive, I’ll direct.”

On pointing to where we should park, a muddy turnoff from the country lanes nearby, Paul became increasingly hesitant as we left the car and walked deeper into the woods. I assured Paul we were scheduled to meet Aliza. As we reached the cabin… the damned cabin. Paul stopped dead. He turned to me with a nervous glare. “I remember,” I cracked my walking stick off his head with every ounce of strength, energy, and courage I could muster.

It must have been some shot. Paul did not move. He awoke now as bound as I. I had tied him to a chair and now sat patiently awaiting my explanation. I began, “Did you expect this day? No, of course not. Your arrogance is your weakness. You will stay here while I get Aliza.” I left the interrogation as I remembered my experience with this drug; memories are impossible to find.

“Leave her alone, you monster!” Paul yelled. I did, however, fear it may be too late for her, my beloved Aliza. As I drove back, I thought intently about how long I had been subjected to the ‘Devil’s Breath’ treatment, a drug so intense I felt guilt administering it on Paul and Aliza. Surely, switching my tea with theirs when possible and adding the Devil’s Breath to their food and drinks was justified. Or was I right to subject them to my pain? I am beyond caring if I am the moral victor. I was now in control.

I arrived home where Aliza lay. Do not judge yet. It wasn’t my fault! She came into my room this morning. She glanced over at the dead plant that I had poisoned inadvertently. I suspected she had pieced things together. I had to act.

I tentatively climbed upstairs towards my room, legs and heart heavy with the expectation of her bloody torso. A sickening image enhanced by the fact I had caused this. But what I saw, I was not prepared for. The body is gone. She was dead! How is this possible? She didn’t move after I lashed out. I frantically started looking for her, tearing through wardrobes under the beds. As I got downstairs, I saw her lying in the kitchen. I had locked both doors, and this is where she gave up. She still looked more dead than alive. But alive she was. I had to tie her up. I was pained to think this way, but I must. My plan now is a simple interrogation of Aliza and Paul. However, I know how they feel after the two weeks of the devil’s breath. Towards the end, I really upped the dose, too. I must wait a while and speak to them each day.

Today is the day. I find the truth.

I prepared myself mentally for the confrontation with Aliza. I knew who she was. Finally, for myself, I knew. But I did not know why my daughter Aliza poisoned my mind. As I entered the room, her eyes betrayed both fear and defiance. She was bound securely to the chair, her hands trembling slightly. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

“Aliza,” I began, my voice steady but cold. “We need to talk. Over the past seven days, your mind has been flushed of the intoxication. Tell me everything.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. I stepped closer, the air thick with tension. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in with each passing second. She said, “This is all your own doing. No, mine and your doing”

“What can you mean by this?” I blasted.

“You said you wanted to give me the world but had nothing to offer. We found a way you could give me a good life through a carer allowance, and we got to keep your home. You said at least we would have a roof over our heads and an income. You concocted the Devil's Breath yourself as a way to get through your pain. You have been in pain for a long time. I guess we were wrong pain must be released”

At that moment of silent reflection, Paul burst through the door, charging at me. He knocked me to the ground, landing on top of me, and began punching, yelling, “Keep me locked away when I tried to help! Nearly killing me!” Aliza began to cry. “Get off him!” She pulled at Paul to no avail. Her dad was going to be beaten to death in front of her eyes. The man who had sacrificed his mind and freedom to help his daughter. With these thoughts, Paul became the enemy. She punched and kicked him, knowing her dad could not take much more. She grabbed her father’s stick and repeatedly hit Paul until he did not move and dropped to the ground herself, exhausted. It’s over. The daddy-daughter bond is strongest.

Let us pray that I have dug a deep enough hole, not only in the garden but in the darkest corner of our minds that no body or ill thouhts can breath air.