My Hands Twitch As I Try to Think of Something Worthwhile to Say. the Only Thing I Can
It’s Over
“The war is over!” my roommate Mary shouts as she walks through the front door. There’s a huge grin on her face as she pushes a loose curl back into her deep rust-colored bun.
My hands twitch as I try to think of something worthwhile to say. The only thing I can think of is the dead men scattered all throughout Europe in an attempt to stop Hitler. Yes, they did succeed, but it cost them their lives. My mind flashes to the bloodied bodies from both sides. Peace will never exist.
“Lucy?”
Mary’s voice carries over my thoughts, and my mind comes back to reality. I take a few deep breaths before speaking, counting all the way up to 33. It’s quiet as Mary waits for me to actually say something.
“That’s great!” I plaster a smile on my face and try to look happy even though the dead bodies are still scrolling through my mind. The images stick inside my brain. It’s like a book with the last 33 pages ripped out; it doesn’t end.
“Yeah, it really is,” she says. “I hope my brother gets home soon. I really miss him.”
“I bet it’ll be great to see him again.”
She nods, grabs her bag from the kitchen chair, and says, “Well, see you. I have to go.”
I tell her goodbye, stand up, and carefully push in the chair. I check to make sure it hasn’t scratched the wood and that everything on it still looks okay. After looking around the kitchen to make sure Mary didn’t move anything, I head toward the bathroom and start a bath.
The dead men won’t go away. I see individual faces and imagine my family fighting the war. Mother falling because she’s always been clumsy; Father refusing to pick her up again and making Brother do it instead. More faces; the deep red blood coating their green uniforms. Gunshots boom all around and men fall with almost every bang.
Mother is on the ground with a seeping wound covering her face, an ugly crimson stain. She doesn’t look the same; her beautiful pale skin is tinted with blue now and her eyes stare unblinkingly forward. How could someone have killed Mother? She was so wonderful. No. She can’t be dead.
The bath is full now, and I try to climb in. But my left leg doesn’t turn correctly so I climb back into it again. It doesn’t feel right when I sit down; something still feels incredibly wrong. I climb back out and get in again. The water seems to be tinted with red. Something isn’t right. Mother can’t be dead. I’m crying before I realize it, and I take 33 deep breaths to calm down.
“Lucy!”
There’s pounding on the door and my head jerks up from the tub’s rim. Great, I fell asleep. More pounding and shouting of my name as I call back to them. It sounds like Mother so I call her name. But it comes out as more of a sob; my voice cracks and shakes as I continue to repeat her name.
The bright lights above me burn into my eyes when I first open them. This is not the bath; and it’s too cold to be my apartment either. I don’t remember coming here. Something is not right. I try to get up to leave but my hands are locked down. Something is really not right; and I need to move. I need out. I don’t like being trapped here.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Johnson,” a deep voice tells me smoothly. “I’m sure you’re scared, but we have a way to fix you.”
“Fix me? I don’t need fixed!” I scream.
“For the past two weeks you’ve been losing sleep. Am I correct?” I feebly nod and he continues, “Your roommate says you redo things often and order the house to be an exact way.”
“I don’t need fixed,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
“It shouldn’t hurt too much,” he continues without stopping to hear what I said. “I’m just going to put this metal clip on your finger. After I flip the switch, the electricity will fix your mind and make you feel better. Sound good?”
I shake my head vigorously side to side; tears squeeze out from my tightly closed eyes.
“I want Mother. Bring her back from the war. Don’t leave her with the men.”
“It won’t hurt, Ms. Johnson. Please, just relax. You’ll feel better soon.”
My muscles grow tenser despite the doctor’s orders. And then that’s when it happens. I hear the metal switch click on and a million pin-pricks fill my skin. They boil beneath the surface, threatening to spill out and pull me apart. My body shakes and I can no longer control it. I want the pain to stop. Oh, I need the pain to stop. I need to be in control of my body, need to keep everything right. But this pain; oh god, this pain is too intense for me to take. Too many pin-pricks; my skin must be boiling and burning.
Just let it stop.