Hello. I suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, which is an anxiety disorder in which people have unwanted and repeated thoughts, feelings, ideas, or behaviors. In other words, my life is a a systematic pattern.
But yesterday, I experienced a flaw in my own system.
I awoke that morning in my lakeside home promptly at 6:45AM, as I do every morning. Before leaving my bedroom I made sure to touch the doorknob three times. I have to. I need to.
On my way down stairs, I made sure not to step on the second to last step. I never touch that step. I just can’t.
I made my usual breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and black coffee. I never eat anything else in the morning, just always those three.
Turning my iPad on, I made sure to check the local news headlines, like usual. But today, something was… Missing.
I couldn’t place my finger on it. Did I forget something? The strange feeling lingered with me all the way to my car. On my way out the front door I made certain to lock my door, then unlock it and lock it again.
Driving to work, I couldn’t help but feel like a part of me was missing. What did I miss? How could I possibly have missed it!
I hoped that the feeling would surpass while at work that day. It didn’t. It stayed with me for twelve whole hours. I left the office around 6:45PM to head back home.
About 25 minutes into my commute, I stopped for the red traffic light at the intersection of Marbury and Westway.
But as the light turned from red to green, I couldn’t help but feel that strange sensation again. The only other person near me was the man driving behind me. He blared his horn for me to get going, but instead of accelerating I just unrolled my window and motioned for him to go around me. He did.
I dreadfully sat there in my car, still stopped at the intersection. Something is seriously wrong. What am I missing here?
I made sure to touch everything in my car, hoping that would spark my memory. I touched the dashboard, the leather seats, the emergency brake, and even the roof. It did nothing for me.
My hands began to tremble as I slowly drove away. This isn’t right. I don’t like this.
Arriving home, I pulled my ’74 Mustang into the garage. I wash the car every weekday, never on weekends. I only wash the front of the car, and the back. Never the sides. No matter how dirty they get, I never wash the sides. I simply just can’t.
But something else seemed to be missing from my daily routine as I washed. No! Not again! First the news, then the intersection, now this?
Finishing up with the car, I jogged out to the backyard. Only jog, never walk, never run.
Opening up the tool shed, I felt yet another thing missing from my pattern! I screamed.
“This isn’t right! This isn’t right! This isn’t right!”
I stumbled out the shed and gazed out at the lake. It always seemed to calm me when my anxiety got out of control. But tonight, all I wanted to do was sleep. I needed to finish this day.
* * *
The next morning, I awoke at 6:45AM. Touched the doorknob three times. Made sure not to step on the second to last step on my way to the kitchen. I prepared my toast, scrambled eggs, and black coffee. I turned on the iPad. Browsed the local news.
…It’s still missing…
I became aggravated. What is it I could possibly be missing? I began to feel nauseous.
Hurrying out the door in a vicious rage, I quickly locked the door, unlocked it, and locked it again. I drove off to work.
I tend to get a lot of work done when I’m upset, strangely. So at least I felt some accomplishment when I left the office at 6:45PM.
I drove fast on my way home. Very fast.
What… am… I… missing….
I approached the red light at Marbury and Westway.
C’mon….Think….Think!
A man was walking in the middle of the intersection, on his way to the other side.
Why can’t I remember!?
The man’s head spun as he noticed my Mustang coming straight for him at 85 miles per hour.
I noticed him too. A wave of horror crossed over my face as I watched him dive to one side.
I swerved into the same direction. A loud clunk was made as I crushed the man underneath my vehicle. Oh God
Jumping out of my car, I hesitated on what to do. He lay there writhing in agony,making horrendous guttural wails.
I popped open the trunk to my Mustang, lifted the screaming man, and heaved him in. I drove.
Upon entering my garage, I made sure to wash the blood off the front and rear of the car. The sides were not necessary.
After dragging his broken body out to the backyard, I jogged to the shed. Inside were black garbage bags, cinder blocks, and a hacksaw.
After dismembering the man, I was able to fit both the remains and a cinder block into the bag.
Dropping him into the lake was all that was left to do.
* * *
The following morning, I made sure to wake at 6:45AM and touch my doorknob three times before skipping the second to last step on my way to the kitchen. While eating my toast, scrambled eggs, and black coffee, I browsed the local news on my iPad.
The top headline: Hit and Run Serial Killer Strikes Again.
I smiled.
Back to normal.
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