Possessed

"So, did you said that you're... crazy or something, Mr....?"

"Nathaniel," I said. "Just Nathaniel."

"Alright, Nathaniel. I want to know, how come you concluded that you are.... crazy?"

I inhaled, "Look. I've seen things other people didn't see, I've heard sounds other people didn't hear, and I literally talk to... things that didn't there. Twice. If I'm not crazy, then what the hell am I?"

"Things?" the psychologist look interested. "What do you mean by things?"

I shook my head. "I shouldn't came here in the first place."

"No, wait, Nathaniel," the psychologist held my shoulder right before I stood up. "Don't go. I was just asking. If you don't want to answer, that's alright, but we probably couldn't figure out what condition you're actually in."

Condition, I sighed, yeah right. "I don't do drugs if that's what you mean by 'condition'."

"I don't say anything about drugs." He shrugged.

And now he's testing my patience. "I. Don't. Do. Drugs. And I don't have any 'condition'," I spit the word out, "I've told you, I am crazy. Now give me the cure, or therapy, or anything that could get this shit rid off of me."

He seem to realized the changes of my mood. "Sit down, Nathaniel," he calmly said.

"I don't wanna sit down! I want something that makes me normal again!"

He opened his mouth but I said again, "Do you have whiskey or something?"

"Whiskey?" he looked confused. "For what?"

"For me to drink, of course, you moron!"

"You haven't tell me your age but I can tell that you're underage. And as for you, I can only put you on the bipolar category. You're not crazy, Nathaniel. You just have some trouble on controlling your--"

Anything he wanted to say is a thing I probably will never heard, because the next thing I know was that my fist is already on the air, floating, when the psychologist spitted some pearls with red liquids and something pink on them. Second after I realized they're not pearls; they're his teeth with bloods and gums.

"Holy shit," I murmured. "Holy shit."

"Nathaniel," he said. Bloods stains his face. They're out from his lips, his nose, and even his cheek. I sees a ring with little beads on it on my ring finger. "Nathaniel."

As bloods drained from my face my feet walks straight to him. He inched backward with a hand trying to stop the bleeding from his nose and lips. "Wait, Nathaniel."

My hands grabbed his collar. "Nathaniel, control yourself."

How did he managed that voice to always sounds mild like that? However, I found myself dragging him into the walls and banging his head onto them, hardly. Once. Twice. Three times. I can't stop myself. I don't want to stop myself. It was like possessed by something that isn't me. He grunts. I rammed his stomach with my knee. Blood came out of his mouth. I threw him onto the wooden table, it breaks. "Nathaniel," he kept trying.

The I that isn't me heard him but somehow ignored him. I saw a little girl with brown hair. The same girl I've always seen. The same girl I talked to twice and no one sees her.

Kill him, she said, he doesn't believe in you. He doubted you. He doesn't deserve to be alive.

She sounds convincing. "But I can't kill him," I heard myself saying.

Oh, of course you can, she smiled at me, all you have to do is to break his neck. As easy as opening a can. He doesn't deserve your mercy, Nate.

"Nathaniel?" his voice is just a low grunt now. "Nathaniel, who are you talking to?"

Here, let me show you.

She walks straight into me and suddenly my hands moved. I kneel right in front of him and something on my face must've frightened him, because I saw terror filled his face. I grabbed his cheeks; right hand on right cheek and left hand on left cheek. When he finally realized what I was going to do, it's too late. With a loud crack, he died.

And I finally get back the control of my body.

But I guess it was too late.

Way much too late.