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The Abductor




Growing up, I had a band of best friends that would spend about every living moment with each other. Most of us weren’t very extroverted and had trouble making new friends outside that circle, but it didn’t matter since we had each other. Despite all our differences, we remained close through high school and subsequently college.

It all started when I was denied for a job I spent my whole life working towards. As if the universe can feel a man’s misery and can only add more darkness, shortly thereafter the disappearances started. First off, we didn’t hear back from Lucas, the beacon of calmness and reason in our group. We tried calling him but there was no answer, and finally we gave up. It might have been some misplaced prank, and we all expected Lucas to just suddenly surprise us again with his presence.

But the disappearances kept on going. One after one, the circle of friends kept shrinking. After there were only three of us left, we realized that this wasn’t some sort of silly joke and we started investigating.

As we gathered more evidence, we remembered more of what happened the weeks before. Suddenly, it was all crystal clear. Some middle aged man that, we suddenly realized, was around us a lot, well we remembered him talking to Lucas just before his disappearance. We eventually came to the conclusion that he was subtly trying to lure him away from us with his cunning and sneaky words.

After this realization we started trailing this man and checking what he did. When we found out he had access to a wide variety of drugs, we believed he might’ve drugged one of our other friends and took him away. This man was trying to abduct people from our group, for a reason we had no idea of. We were bursting with anger and agreed to confront him and, if he didn’t give in to our intimidation, we would get the police on our case. That was gonna be the first thing next morning.

Silence when I woke up. I was all alone in the place that I once shared with all my friends. My hands were trembling with fear, but slowly my rage got the better of me. No room for rational thinking anymore. I took a kitchen knife and stormed out towards the place where I knew the man worked. I ran past the lobby, almost tore the door to his office off the hinges and jumped at him with pure hatred in my mind and a deadly weapon in my hand. When the security guards pulled me off him he was barely recognizable, entrails and blood smeared across the room.

They keep me in a white padded room. They say I’m too dangerous to stay with the other inmates. Every once in a while the little door opens and I get my meal and sometimes a news paper. It’s my only connection left to the world I used to be a part of. I grab it with a longing for familiarity and start reading the headline.

Patient with multiple personality disorder stabs psychiatrist to death

—
Credits to: ComradVladimir

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